Chapter 52: [Level; 3], Homework, and Master-plan

  I was sitting at my workstation in the back of Alric’s shop, going over my new stat sheet. So, a few changes. There was a third [Skill]s folder and space for an additional [Title]s and [Spell]s. [Mini-map]’s active and passive ranges had increased by fifteen and one hundred meters, respectively. My vision filters now included an ingredient search option. Sweet, if it worked as implied.

  //Not much interpretation needed there, boy-o//

  I’ll play with that later.

  [Infuse parchment; common] will be a major time saver. I have to admit, streamlining that process made me want to salivate. More freedom for extracurriculars. So will mass producing [Fresh Breeze-Barrier, (prairie rose); common] for Vitor, that way I could finish paying him for his work—over Tess’s protests. While we are at it, let's shorten that mouthful to [Prairie Rose]. If Tess could do it--[spurt], for acorn's sake!--then so could I.

  The new ink I was leery of, that {Error} not sitting well with me. That is why I hadn’t placed it under the others on my [Quick-key].

  //And how are you going to make your [Prairie Rose] without it?//

  Crap. ‘Logic sucks.’

  I was saved from any other inconvenient thoughts by the arrival of my Master.

  “So Book, you have officially learned three scrolls and two inks.” Did my Master put a little more inflection on the word ‘official’?

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Which ink did you use for your new [barrier]? I don’t believe that I have taught you [strengthen]ing ink yet, have I? Did you get it from that old recipe book of mine?”

  “Uh,” actually, I hadn’t been smart enough to do that. Idiot. (//Idiot//). “No, Sir. I used a base [ink; good].” I should probably do more than a cursory search, next time.

  “And it worked? Interesting.”

  “Should it not have, Master?”

  //Ignorance is bliss//

  “Hmm. Depends.”

  Depends on what? Had I screwed up?

  //Need you ask?//

  ‘Quiet. If your ‘help’ exposed me…us…we could be in trouble.’

  “Well, I expect you to learn the correct version. I do not want any scrolls leaving my shop—with my name appended to them—that are not done in the proper manner, understood?”

  “Yes, Master” What else could I say? At least it kept decision paralysis at bay.

  “Fine. You have mastered two that I taught and succeeded in one of your choice, and ahead of schedule I might add.”

  Was that a compliment? I was positively giddy.

  “Now it is time to broaden your variety. I have a list of five different scrolls of varying difficulties, and I want you to research them—they are all in the book—and their appropriate inks. When you think that you have succeeded in [Scriven]ing each one, bring them to me. If I am satisfied with your work, then we will move on to the next step in your training.”

  Greeeeat, homework.

  “You will, of course, keep up with any orders I assign you.”

  “Of course, Master.” Homework and a full-time job.

  Alric held out a sheet of paper—not parchment, but actual paper—and I took it on reflex. Looking it over, I read the listed scrolls to myself.

  [Chill], [barrier]—this was crossed out—, [preserve], [strengthen], [weaken], and [purify]. The last one was hastily written, an obvious addition after the cross-out. What, no credit for the one I’d learned on my own?

  //Ha!//

  ‘*Grumble*’

  “Are these in order of difficulty, sir?” I asked my teacher.

  “That is up to you.”

  Huh? That doesn’t make sense…unless?

  //You figured it out on your own? Jeez, where you would be without me is a mystery//

  ‘Home on Earth?’

  Bitter? Nope. At least, not as much as I used to be.

  //Lobotomized on a steel slab//

  ‘Oh.’

  //Your cerebral fluid swirling down a drain//

  ‘OK!’

  “How long do I have?” I asked, inviting another non-answer.

  He gave me a flat look. Got it.

  “Feel free to use any materials you might need. Start with the, ahem, lower quality ingredients that seem to be gracing my shelves, as of late.”

  I winced.

  “Yes, Master. Thank you.”

  “It is only my duty, Book.”

  Are the subtle snides your duty?

  //Yes//

  ‘Not your duties.’

  “And mine to learn, sir.”

  Alric peered closely at my eyes, looking for any impertinence. Happy to say, there wouldn’t be any to find; I was serious.

  “Very good.”

  And with that, I was dismissed. Alric returned to the desk under the window, and I retreated to my closet in the back. Finding the [torchlight] scroll behind the glass shade of the lamp affixed to the wall in my personal space guttering, I snagged a new one from the overstock shelves. Feeling the resonance wafting off of it, I knew it was one of mine. Sweet. I removed the globe, carefully lifting the old scroll out. I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger and held it over my dustbin. ‘Dust’ is very apropos.

  I snapped my wrist to give it a shake, and the whole thing disintegrated into charcoal dust, settling in the bottom of the bin. So cool.

  I settled the new [torchlight] in place, replaced the globe, and gave it a smidge of [mana]. A low glow suffused the space, bright white like an incandescent bulb. Twenty watts; a smidge more, and forty watts. Perfect. It reminded me of home, the stark, white light. Mr. W. had told me once that it wasn’t his favorite version—all [torchlight]s differed based on the [Scrivener]— so I made sure to adjust my intent when I made the scrolls specifically for him. Magali loved mine, the steady, stark light made it easier for him to work with. Or so he said.

  //Blowing smoke up your ass//

  ‘Hey…probably, yep. Besides, that’s what friends are for.’

  //I would not know//

  ‘You got that right.’

  //*Harrumph*//

  ‘You sound like an octogenarian.’

  //Ba-humbug//

  ‘Do you need a butterscotch candy?’

  //Too spicy//

  Anyway. I should try for a daylight bulb.

  I pulled out Master Alric’s dog-eared recipe book and started flipping through its pages, making a mental note to check the index for appropriate inks.

  Meanwhile, in the recesses of my mind, a little imp was figuring out ways to corrupt Alric’s ‘pure’ recipes.

  It was too bad [barrier] was crossed off, but my Master would never let an oversight like that get by him. Oh well.

  ‘Do you think if I told him about [Prairie Rose], he would count it?’

  //You are the one that insists on staying under the radar//

  So that is a no.

  ‘Hey, Sia…?’

  //I don’t like the sound of this//

  ‘No, no, it’s good. You will like it. I was thinking, hoping, you could take a look at these recipes, maybe rank them for difficulty?’

  //Oh, Book. You don’t want me to cheat, do you?//

  The AI sounded positively gleeful, like a cartoon villain explaining his—her—evil master plan.

  ‘Only under the watchful eye of a master.’

  Butter up, buttercup.

  //he-he-he-ha-ha-ah-Ha-HA!//