The Way of the Sorcerer: A 'The Wandering Inn' Fanfiction

“You know,” Hidenori said with both minor humour and annoyance, “there is a saying. ‘Just because you can, does not mean you should’."

He stood under a folding awning at the back of his ship; a light rain was upon the seas this morning. He, of course, was dry—the figure sitting cross-legged on a cushion against the side of the ship was also dry.

“That’s boring!” Ivory shouted back. “Practise makes perfect!”

That wasn’t the major lesson he had learned in the week since he had been on this cruise, but it was a generally true statement. The real lesson was one that he was aware of, but never fully had the opportunity to put into actual practice.

“You even told me I was right! Exercise my magic muscle!”

That was not to say he was developing galas muscle. His [Wind Umbrella] was whipping above him, scattering the light rain in every which direction and keeping him dry. This was his sweet spot—Nozumu had tipped a container of water over it at his behest, resulting in a wet mess.

Hidenori chuckled and went back inside. He was an entertaining addition to an otherwise uneventful journey.

This was the life. Ivory had always thought Harry Potter was an idiot—a muggle going to a magical school, and not being absolutely obsessed with everything?

Not Ivory. He was in a magical Renaissance. With Hidenori’s permission, he was practising all of his spells off the ship.

“The only issue is the magical sealife,” Ivory remembered Hidenori warn. “There are many dangerous creatures in the depths that may come up if they sense any magic. I give you permission, but you must be careful. Is that understood?”

There was no chance of that happening, with the calibre of spells that Ivory was capable of casting, but he didn’t need to know that.

Ivory stood up and beckoned Misoe over, who flew up excitedly into his arms.

“[Refresh Spell],” he looked up and saw and felt the miniature tempest resume. “Time for your favourite. Deep breath in 3, 2, 1…”

Misoe and Ivory both inhaled deeply, almost comically so, and held for a moment.

A flock of seabirds flying just above the water got the fright of their lives as they suddenly warmed up, and immediately dove into the water to escape getting cooked.

Jets of flame burst from Ivory’s open mouth, and Misoe’s soon after. Each was only a little over a metre in length, but there was a lot of it, moreso from Ivory’s since he could open his mouth wider.

He could only hold it for about three seconds—he was exhaling the fire, after all. He had taken several recovering breaths before Misoe finished hers.

“Aren’t you smart!" he said, panting. "If we keep this up, maybe you’ll be able to do it on your own. God help us when that day comes.”

Misoe looked up smugly and licked her lips. [Mirror Spell] was one of the few Skills he had obtained from his [Beast Tamer] class levelups, and was perhaps his favourite one so far. To think that [Breath of Fire] had such a short reign as favourite was proof that anything was possible.

It was ironic, in a way. The way forward as a spellcaster was to think outside the box, and not shackle one’s self to one’s own perceptions of what was, or should be possible. There were still rules he had to abide by—he could not cast [Tsunami] right off the bat; he began instead with [Move Water].

It was this he took advantage of. Build and learn the fundamentals in order to acclimatise yourself to more complex magic. [Move Water] had allowed him to better grasp the magical mechanics of hydromancy, which led him to learn [Water Spray] and soon after [Water Jet].

He did the same with his pyromancy. He already had a great head start with [Eerie Cinders], for all that it wasn’t straightforward pyromancy. He’d learnt [Spark] and [Hot Hands], which lead to [Fire Dart]. These new spells that he had cultivated had caused him to level up, earning him the curious spell, [Zont’s Flaming Pufferfish].

Then he had the bright idea to be a dragon. Why not try to breathe some fire? Turns out, it wasn’t actually that hard, but it wasn’t practical—but that didn’t matter to him!

The irony, here, was that he felt that he was playing the system. Take advantage of the mechanisms of magic, while also thinking outside the box. He had one foot in the box, one outside, and was laughing all the while.

_________________________________________

On day three, Ivory had visited Nozumu’s room to announce his new spell.

“What’s that you’re reading?” Ivory asked, pointing at the veritable tome in his lap. It didn’t look dissimilar to the gigantic bibles that were used for sermons in church.

Nozumu shifted uncomfortably. His beak opened and closed a few times before he responded.

“It’s… an almanac.”

Ivory craned his neck forward with a look on his face.

“No idea. Wozzat?”

“It, ah, is a document of predicted weather patterns, fishing tides and other natural events. It also shows the time that the sun sets and rises. There are many other things that I do not understand that pertain to my [Stargazer] class. It is magically updated at the beginning of each year, and also lists spells and Skills encountered by the academy of Dejima.”

“Wow. That’s incredible, actually. That’s going to be a cheat sheet for you! Spells, too? That—”

“I stole it."

Ivory, who until then was merrily pacing around the room after just waking up having learned [Slumber Mnemonic]—he'd gone immediately to Nozumu's room, as he did the day before, to excitedly relay—stopped.

"Oh… dear."

Nozumu's head was in his hands. Hands? Whatever. He was in a bad space. Before Ivory could reassure him—somehow—he was spewing an explanation.

"The day after you left I went to Heito to ask if he had anything that could help with my class and he looked guilty for you disappearing so he took me to the academy and he gave me the almanac and—" he took a big breath —"said I could borrow it for for help but I think it is a relic because the spells have gone back from more than a thousand years!”

He was panting after that eruption, no doubt also part hyperventilation. Ivory was speechless for a moment; this was probably a big deal that he had taken it. It surely wasn’t malicious, as he’d packed at the very last second and probably just threw in everything.

“Oh,” he replied, airily. “I wouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t on purpose, and the Matriarch would no doubt get him in trouble if he did anything to inconvenience me.”

The sheer matter-of-factness of such a statement made him stabilise a bit and look up at Ivory.

“Besides, it was probably sitting on a shelf somewhere. We’re going to put it to good use.” Nozumu had believed him—and Ivory almost believed it as well!

And that’s how Ivory had averted disaster, which gained him—and Nozumu, with considerably less guilt—access to the Dejimaean Almanac.

Now, back to the present. Ivory had made his way to the rec hall to find Nozumu, who was no doubt attempting to find meaning in today’s weather forecast.

“Strong winds today?”

Nozumu leant over the railing of the bunk bed and looked blankly at him.

“If you do th—”

A puff of air assailed Nozumu’s face; he frowned, pushing his feathers around in the same a Human might after having been similarly ganked.

“Very funny. Don’t go outside this afternoon.”

Ivory put a hand on his chest, looking distraught.

“Are you threatening me?”

Nozumu closed the book which, surprisingly, made no satisfying pomf.

“Strong winds.”

“Oh! Right.”

Ivory climbed up and sat beside him.

“Are you getting anything out of looking at that, or what? With how I figure it works in this world, gaining knowledge for your class should level you up, especially since you are low level. No, don’t give me that look—there’s no magic on Earth! We are in a similar boat!”

Nozumu’s Drathian composure started to slip.

“You are not normal.” he said, waving a hand. “You should not be levelling this fast. The [Mages] at the academy that undergo harsh training do not level even—I don’t even have a way to compare it. They level even faster than Wistram [Mages]! Who gets four levels in a week?!”

Ivory just sat there, stunned—where the hell did that all come from? It occurred, then, that Nozumu could be… jealous of him. No, that would be reductive. Envious? As if reading his mind, Nozumu continued.

“It’s not your fault, but it isn’t fair. You are a higher level in both of your classes after a month? I have been at the academy for seven years!" He put his head back a little too swiftly and banged his head on the wall.

"I need a break," he announced, shifting the mammoth of a book over to Ivory. "You will get more use out of it than me. I will see you at dinner."

Ivory bit his tongue as he descended and began walking out of the rec room. There was nothing he could say to rectify or add to this discussion—after all, he was right. It was unfair, and categorically so.

… On the bright side, he had unfettered access to the almanac.

No, that wasn't quite right—as that would imply that there were no barriers to entry.

Ivory slouched a bit upon seeing the page full of foreign characters; Nozumu had played translator for the spells he had received.

"Slow down. I'm not starting with 'z'; go alphabetically," Nozumu had said.

"That'd be… [Breath of Lightning], I think."

Nozumu flicked through the almanac; it was an onomatopoeic delight that could have been lifted directly from a speech bubble in a comic. There was no sign of use on any of the pages whatsoever, as if the tree it had been made from had simply decided to shapeshift into it.

"Table of contents. Spell school, no… enchantments, no… melee Skills, no… offensive, defensive, curses, no… all alphabetical. There," he announced, finding the appropriate filter for the almanac's contents. He opened the almanac at about the third of the way and then backtracked for several minutes before triumphantly poking the page with a talon.

“This will not be perfect, so bear with me.”

He cleared his throat and began reading.

[Breath of Lightning]. A spell in the imitative breath-type category. Documented first by [Bloodmage] Rikuran during the Dragonwars. One exhales lightning, in imitation of Lightning Dragons. Primarily used by Oldblood Drakes of the Walled Cities of said element, which is either inherently known, and can also be obtained through guided training.

[Breath of the Sea]. Documented first by [Abyssal Slayer] Eduna during the Creler Wars. An Isonade, with whom he was fighting aquatic Elder Crelers, used this spell alongside his Drowned followers. Against several Elder Crelers was the Dragonlord of Waves, Khetieve and several Isonade fighting. These immortals and their respective mortal followers used this spell to boil their nigh-impenetrable carapaces, allowing for the [Abyssal Slayers] to deal mortal blows.

Breath-type spells are ill-suited for non-Oldblood Drakes. Without the specialised biology of Dragon-kin, the spells are eclipsed in both functionality, application and efficiency by a myriad of adjacent spells. A [Noxious Mist], for example, performs better than [Venom Breath] in virtually every way. The efficacy of breath-type spells relies on one’s ability to inhale and exhale—indeed, there are multiple Skills to augment one’s lungs—[Lungs of the Whale], [Adamantite Lungs], [Unlimited Breath]. [Draconic Mastery: Breathe Mana] is the apex of such Skills, taught to adherents and slaves both of Void Dragons.

[Efficient Spellcasting]. Crutch Skill for magic classes. Allows for the use of spells, and Skills that utilise mana, to incorporate any leaked and inefficiently used mana back into the spell or Skill being cast. Results in less mana being spent by the magic user, and a marginally stronger spell. Commonly found in Drowned [Mages] by necessity.

[Magical Inspiration]. Skill for classes that utilise magic. Bestows upon the holder the capability to begin learning a spell or magical Skill of their field by witnessing said spell or Skill, or exceedingly rarely by knowing of its existence. By its nature, it is seldom encountered during times of strife, or in combat classes. Known examples include a [Magical Logger] learning [Elven Aforestation] and [Dryadic Regeneration].

[Conceptualise Magic]. Skill for magic classes. Allows the holder to cast magic and learn spells through sheer force of imagination. Common Skill for [Archmages] and other exceedingly high level magic users. Capstone Skill for [Sorcerers], [Witches], [Onmyouji] and [Wizards].

[Bond of Friendship]. [Beast Tamer] Skill. A Skill between the holder and animal(s) based on friendship. Skill does not generate friendship; an established familiar relationship is a prerequisite for gaining this Skill. The holder and animal(s) can sense each other's moods, and allows for reciprocal Skills to be gained.

[Phocine Regulation]. Skill for one involved with seals. Bestows upon the holder the temperature regulation of seals. The higher level the holder, the more extreme temperatures they can thrive in. Obtained primarily by [Fishermen] and [Beast Masters], and through the continued consumption of seal flesh.

[Fire Pufferfish]. Esoteric [Mage] spell. Documented first by [Ambassador] to the Isles of Minos, Akane. Conjures a pyromantic facsimile of a Daedaline Pufferfish. When detonated, hundreds of molten spines are shot in every direction…

"Nothing about a 'Zont', huh," Ivory thought. As far as mysteries went, this one was pretty up there—no downsides so far, so not too big of an issue.

What was an issue was this almanac. It responded, seemingly, only to Drathian; all Ivory could see were blank pages. Drat.

Ivory closed the great book and laid down—he was, after all, on a bed.

It was a pretty selfish—and thoughtless—move to be keen on being able to read the almanac when he should have gone with his friend. He didn’t just think this because it turned out that it was functionally useless without him… but it would be a lie to say it didn’t make him open his eyes to the reality of his actions. Just because he couldn’t ‘make the situation better’ didn’t mean that he should have done nothing.

Plus, they were going to be travelling together for the foreseeable future—these things needed to be ironed out swiftly.

He climbed down the lacquered steps of the bunk bed, having moved the giant almanac to rest against the ‘I am stopping you from rolling off the bed’ barrier. On the final step, when he could still reach it, he grabbed it with both hands and heaved the thing over the edge…

…And he went with it. The heavy motion of pulling the great thing was enough to destabilise him. In trying to regain composure, he fell flat on his ass, twisting his ankle as the almanac careened down on top of him.

“Mother fucker!” he groaned, trying not to be too loud. His sensibilities were active even here, when few would be able to understand him, would that there was anyone else present. He was most thankful that Misoe was still sleeping in his room.

After a few minutes of hobbling, he managed his way back to his room.

“Ergh, damn book—”

A sizable loaf landed unceremoniously on his head as he walked in. Thankfully, the door had been closed before, preventing most of his shrill shout from being heard by the entire ship.

“You are mental. Scared the absolute hell out of me. Could’ve used you as a cushion for my foot.”

Misoe half somersaulted off Ivory’s head, appearing upside down in front of him. She went through a rolodex of facial expressions—she frowned, giggled, smiled, and then hurled herself into her nest of towels and opened her mouth expectantly.

“Oops! Give me a sec.”

His foot now hurting a little bit less, but still enough that he felt the compulsion to hop despite holding the gigantic almanac. He shuffled over to the bed and carefully ducked down before falling back on the bed. The last thing he wanted was to break his spine—there was quite the drop.

“Okay,” he said, shifting the almanac off his chest and onto the floor. “C’mere. [Eerie Cinders].”

Five ghostly orbs of fire materialised and zigzagged over to Misoe’s gaping maw. Like a certain anthropomorphised starfish, she inhaled them all like an aquatic sinkhole and had the dignity to put her face into the towels to burp.

“You’re a weirdo, y’know that?”

“Blaaa.”

“Rude. Maybe a power nap to soothe my foot…” he said, and Misoe nestled herself between his arm and body.

Ivory drifted soundly to sleep, thanks to the hefty French Bulldogs that were jumping through frilly hula hoops.

___________________________

Knock knock knock. No response.

Knock knock knock knock knock, knock knock. Still nothing.

“Hello?” a voice spoke, functionally inaudible to the inhabitants of the room. “May I come in?”

Nozumu knocked a few more times to no avail. He doubted strongly that the door was locked, so he gently pulled on the metal indentation.

he peeked inside to see the almanac on the floor! That was—[Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff]. Doesn’t matter. Beside it was a spread eagle Ivory, and an animated Misoe floating towards him.

“Hello,” he whispered. She spun around mid air in response, smiling.

Nozumu picked up the almanac and placed it on the small desk on the other side of the room and began flicking through it, beginning his own little investigation into spells and Skills. Misoe perched on the edge of the table, happy for the—awake—company.