Cold as Ice

Jigano tilted his head curiously, wondering what stake Loren had that led to such a firm correction, but no further explanation was forthcoming. The bard was curious, but at least the scholar was more inclined to conversation than Deimos was, and if he didn’t feel like expounding on his answer, the blighted lorekeeper wouldn’t press; not, at least, for the moment. Besides, there were other things to disagree on, and Jigano’s voice stayed unexpectedly mild as he spoke. ”And those you cared about didn’t see that you needed to step back, step away, to regain your perspective and energy. Did they look for you, your fellow Launceleyns?” he asked, curious though he suspected he knew the answer. Edy might have, though he wasn’t sure how close they had been. Zariah? Unlikely in the extreme. ”You could have chosen not to come back at all. To stay in hiding, or to simply walk away once the barrier fell, as far as the Greatwood would let you. There were a great many other things that you could have done… but you chose to return. Continue to choose to help, to try.” Words for himself as much as for Loren. He hadn’t been gone for as long as the scholar, but the parallels were impossible to deny.

They were in agreement about Long Night, and why they wanted to prepare for it, and in protecting those they cared for, and the ones those people cared for, out in an expanding web of connections and affection that spread beyond their immediate small circles and came to encompass all the Hollowed Grounds and beyond. If he had known the direction Loren’s thoughts had taken re: their new Queen, however, he would have had a lot more to say on the matter.

Perhaps it was for the best that he didn’t, for the attempt to shift the conversation took a darker turn that he intended. ”So you want to be a survivor?” he mused thoughtfully as he followed Loren to a quieter area and settled himself gratefully on the neighboring bed. He wondered idly if it was the same one he and Rory had slept on last Long Night, after the badly-burned-and-bitten farmer had been rescued by Rexanna and Vervain and brought here to recover. It had been a terrible time, full of nightmares and guilt and regret…

But also a night for truths, for revelations, and new beginnings. Sometimes you had to make your own light in the darkness.

”Thank you,” he murmured, sighing as he let the bag slide to the floor and looked ruefully down at his trembling hands. ”I am eager for this to pass, to say the least.” The inability to do fine work with his hands led to frustration, which the blight then amplified and fed upon, strengthening in his veins and turning frustration to anger and rage still. To say it was unpleasant was an understatement worthy of his old self.

”What was it that you did, back on Northhaven? Or were you one of those who came from Northwind?” Might as well start at the beginning, if he had an open invitation, and ‘profession’ was hopefully an innocuous enough topic to keep them from spiraling down too far into the shadows of their pasts.

loren

Sighing, Loren raised ran a hand through his hair. There were basically no simple questions about his past, as Jigano would probably find out quite quickly over the course of their conversation. ”They’re all dead or gone, so I can only go off what I remember and what Beatrix told me. And considering I got into a huge fight with them right before I...left, I doubt it. They saw it as a betrayal of everything the family stood for. And seeing as Edy told everyone I was in a sex cave, and everyone believed it, no, I don’t think they looked for me too hard. I don't know that anyone did.” Well, Remi had, but that was a whole other can of worms. Giving the other man a tired look, the summoner shrugged. ”If at first you don’t succeed and all that...but no. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. And I needed to make what amends I could.” Once he’d regained his sanity, there had never been a question of whether or not he would return. The only question was how, and he’d screwed that up royally.

Survivor was as good a word as any for what the summoner was. Indeed, it seemed to be all he was good at, staying alive while everyone around him left or died. ”Yes.” It was completely true. However, it wasn’t the whole truth. ”I am basically all my family has left.” Children and adoptees barely counted. ”So it is up to me to survive, and carry the family name, and to maybe, just maybe pass down a better legacy to the next generation than was handed to me.” His tone grew softer and darker as he kept speaking, until he was almost whispering.

The infirmary beds were nicer than the cot he usually slept on, and he fidgeted uncomfortably at the unexpected luxury. Still, it was nothing compared to the discomfort he felt at the conversation. ”No need to thank me. And it will pass. I know it might not seem that way all the time, or right now, but you are on the mend.” Loren wasn’t a doctor, but he was a healer, and he knew recovery was a long and hard process. But there was no doubt the blighted were getting better. At least the white-haired man didn’t need reassurance that he wasn’t to blame, that he was a good person. Or maybe the bard had needed that, just not from the Launceleyn.

Asking about a former profession might’ve been a safe topic for most people, but as with everything else with the Launceleyns, it was quite, quite fraught. ”I came from Northaven, yes, and Northwind before that. And in Northaven I was a farmer for approximately five years before I became the librarian there.” However, he paused, staring down at the ground briefly. ”I was also supposed to be a spy for the crown. My father was, and he trained all of us, his children, to do the same. But...I was weak and stupid, and no one ever really asked me to do anything, at least not until we were exposed as Launceleyns.” He’d learned, though, watching his father. Even without illusion magic, there were tricks and techniques he’d picked up. ”Were you always a bard?” Loren felt he’d more than earned a question after all the talking he’d been doing.

Never judge a book by its cover.

It was a sad tale, not unlike the one he had spun after his disastrous brush with kingship – and like his own, he suspected there was more to the story that Loren wasn’t ready to see, or simply didn’t know about. ”I don’t think very many people believed Edy,” was all he said, a quiet opinion that mattered little in the scheme of things. Given what he’d already seen of the earnest young scholar, it was extremely improbable that Loren would end up in such a place. Then again, this was Caido. Stranger things had happened.

”Again with the underestimation,” he said, wearily amused. He was beating his head against a brick wall, he knew, but like a fool he couldn’t seem to stop. ”There are plenty of people who wouldn’t see the ‘need’ for amends. That you do, that it’s not a ‘want’ but a ‘need’ for you, speaks better of your character than you’re willing to admit.” He raised a shaking hand in a little wave, lips creased in a ghost’s smile. ”But I’m the last person who has the right to try and convince someone else of that. It’s a lesson you’ll learn when you’re ready and not before. And it’s one you can relearn many times. I know.” It was always easier to see the good in others than himself, after all.

These Northwinders brought such baggage with them, every one. Jigano tilted his head, an avian affectation – or perhaps a canine one – as Loren waxed earnest in his familial duties. Ashetta had sounded similar, tied to her past. Chained to it. It was enough to make the bard very glad that Zariah had failed in her efforts to remake Caido in Northwind’s image. ”Why? he asked curiously. ”Why do you have to carry the family name? From what I’ve seen it’s a name steeped in pain and torture and betrayal. Your past may define you, Loren Launceleyn… but why do you let it control you?”  He flicked trembling fingers as if to cast away hot ashes. ”You’re in a new world. It is a new beginning. Why not choose a new name, and begin a new legacy, untainted by the hatred and darkness that haunts the Launceleyn inheritance?” Of course it couldn’t be so easy, but the question was still worth asking. If Loren was like Ashetta the habits of his old life were so ingrained that he’d never even considered – never been allowed to consider - leaving that viper’s-nest of a family behind for something new. Just posing the concept might give the other man something interesting to chew on in the days and nights to come.

Dr. Loren’s reassurances earned a faint snort, and the blighted bard bit back a tart reply of ‘don’t teach your grandfather to suck eggs.’ The reassurance was welcome, though, and he was feeling far better than he had even a short while ago as the blight receded in one of its sporadic ebbings, leaving him feeling momentarily clearer than he had in hours. Days, even. And at first the history of Loren’s professions was innocuous enough. A farmer to a librarian seemed an unlikely jump, but far from impossible. The spy business, however, earned a faint grimace as Jigano was again reminded of Ashetta and her wretched former profession. The grimace deepened at the self-flagellation and this time he didn’t bother to hide his scoff. ”Stupid? Weak? Who’s been filling your head with such nonsense? Let me guess… the other Launceleyns, was it? Gods least fortunate, you and Remi sing the same tune.” Not the most tactful comment, especially not from a bard, but his experience with such brainwashing involved the Technic League – a group whose strings had been pulled by a mad godling intent on ascending much like the Voice had and enslaving a world’s worth of minds in the bargain.

Jigano’s opinions on that sort of thing were quite firm.

The question he received in return, though, was mild enough that he drew a steadying breath, giving a small shake of his head in rueful memory. ”My father wanted me to be a smith like he was, and to take over his forge someday. I was never a strong child, though. Not physically, at least, and I had no patience for bending metal to my will. I was always more my mother’s son…” He trailed off reaching up to tug his braid forward reflexively and sighing at the lankness of the dull white strands that had lost their luster. ”I was an Oracle, like her. The hair and the eyes tended to give it away,” he added, a touch wryly. ”Though I was drawn to the Mysteries of Lore, while she was an Oracle of Life. I grew up a lorekeeper, and found my secondary calling as a bard only, oh, a little over ten years ago now, I suppose. Being a Lore Oracle was in my blood, but it wasn’t good for keeping a roof over my head.” He shrugged lightly, though at the time the decision had been far from easy. ”I had a talent for story and song, and I pick new instruments up quickly. And the bardic magics were… intuitive.” And lost beyond his reach forever when he’d fallen through the portal, a loss he’d spent a year coming to terms with.

loren

Jigano was dead wrong about at least one thing in this conversation. ”Enough did. Or they believed her when she told them I’d run off with someone.” Though Loren tried his best to keep his voice flat, he couldn’t prevent sorrow from creeping into his tone; Remi, at least had believed the summoner’s cousin and that was pretty much the only person whose opinion mattered here. Well, Loren had disabused the alchemist of that particular notion in a spectacularly disastrous way, and now they weren’t talking.

It was probably for the best.

The summoner wasn’t ready to learn that lesson, at least not yet: in his mind, he’d failed before and needed to do what little he could to make up for his past mistakes. It would be impossible to do so, at least not completely, so he just stubbornly forged ahead. ”Those people would be wrong.” That was pretty much the only response he was able to muster, because somewhere deep within the Launceleyn couldn’t entirely disagree with the bard.

The white-haired man was right, Loren didn’t have to keep his family name. But that wouldn’t change who he was. And there were other considerations. ”Because I’m not the only Launceleyn left. I’m just the last best hope we have to do good in the world, to help instead of harm.” He’d rather make a new legacy out of the ashes of his family than discard it entirely. Maybe that way Beatrix and Jace and Peter could avoid making the same mistakes he had. ”I don’t let it control me. But it is a part of me. And...if I don’t constantly remind myself of that, I’m afraid that I might...might succumb to the darkness in my blood.” Hesitating, he bit his lip, because there was still more to say. ”Besides, I fought and bled and went through hell because of my family. If I just...get rid of it, then I will be acknowledging that all the pain, all the torture, that it was all for naught.” And that might break him entirely.

Yeah, Jigano scoffing and then bringing up Remi did not help the Launceleyn’s mood. ”I was for a while.” Weak, at least, and he certainly felt like an idiot, for doing everything within his power to try and get his family to value him. He was still getting used to the fact that he was now one of the more powerful mages in the Hollowed Grounds, with access to spells no one else had; while he’d been the left hand of the family for an incredibly brief period in Northaven, that hadn’t quite sunk in and he still shied away from the wonder in people’s eyes when he summoned a beast of legend.

Luckily, there was quite a bit in the white-haired man’s statement to distract Loren. And it was a very welcome distraction indeed. He cared less about the bard’s decision to follow in his mother’s footsteps and more about what that actually meant. ”Alright, so a couple of follow-ups. First, what is an oracle?” Though the Launceleyn had heard of the prophets of old, and met masters of mysticism, it seemed there was something more to what Jigano was saying. ”Next, what are the mysteries of lore and what is a lorekeeper?” Loren knew about the guild in Caido, but again, it didn’t seem to be exactly the same thing as the bard was describing. ”Finally, what are the bardic magics.” Strangely enough, for the first time in this conversation, there was an eagerness in the summoner’s voice; he was always intrigued by the possibility of discussing new magics, especially ones he’d never heard of.

Never judge a book by its cover.

Jigano could only shrug at Loren’s insistence that everyone – or many people, at least – had believed Edy’s story. It seemed more likely that they hadn’t known what to think when such an earnest and seemingly responsible young man – at least in Jigano’s estimation so far – had disappeared without a word. Edy’s sordid little story wasn’t something they could disprove, so they had simply let it be because, really, who wanted to argue with the firecracker and get their tender bits scorched for the trouble? But he’d arrived after Loren’s disappearance and hadn’t gotten to know most of the Northhaveners until later still, so he could only guess at what they had and hadn’t believed.

Loren didn’t seem to have enough energy to argue with him either, but the stubborn statement proved Jigano’s point nicely, the bard thought, and simply hummed a quiet agreement with the scholar’s morality. Names were a far more fraught topic, though, and he had to bite his tongue against the snort of ‘last, best hopes.’ Hadn’t Loren just said he wasn’t the only one left? The children would grow, if they survived. Freeing them to a fresh legacy seemed kinder to him, but his family had never tried to chain him and enslave him the way the Launceleyns did to their offspring, so perhaps he simply had different priorities. ”Ah well. That’s one way to look at it,” the bard said obliquely, though he thought that charting a new course free of the torture of the past was making it worth it, rather than for naught. What better way to show that Loren had learned a new way to live, to be better than what had come before, then by repudiating the darkness and claiming a new light? But they were different men, with very different pasts, and he left it with a quiet: ”I just hope that you’re able to hold to that desire to ‘be a better Launceleyn’ when Zariah returns and demands that you fall back in line again.” No, he had not forgotten the shadow of the Queen who had turned that name to ashes in the minds of so many of the barrierfolk. She had, if nothing else, left a hell of an impression.

”Mmm. Physically weak, perhaps. Stupid? That is what I find hard to believe.” Being smart and being wise were two different things. Loren was bright, quick, and creative, as he’d proven with how he wielded his magic. He might not always chose the wisest way to wield that intelligence, but he was also young in the bard’s estimation, and wisdom was rarely something inborn.

And then it was Loren’s turn to grill him, and Jigano felt his lips twitch towards a smile as the scholar proved his estimation of the man’s intelligence correct yet again. ”Not the same thing that it on other worlds, I’ve been finding,” he answered easily to the first question. ”An Oracle is one who is born with a connection to the divine, and the magic that comes from it. It’s not chosen or learned. But the connection is also… unstable. Unprotected,” he admitted with a faint grimace. ”A priest or cleric might choose a god or pantheon to worship and be accepted by them, granted divine magic with no downside. An oracle can channel divine magic without being tied to a specific deity, but the price is often steep… all the more so for not having a choice in the matter.” He tugged his braid lightly again, his smile turning wry. ”We’re often visibly marked in some way, though not all the same. White hair and blue eyes tends to run in the Oracles of my family.” There were far worse ways to be marked. Really, he had been lucky in the side effects of his heritage.

”Mysteries are what we call the paths an Oracle is drawn towards,” he continued, amused at the small cascade of questions all in a row. ”Life or Lore, Fire or Nature, War or Dark Tapestry… they are not all nice paths,” he warned. ”And it’s a question for the philosophers whether one’s personality is shaped by their Mystery, or whether their soul chooses it at birth. Each Oracle’s path is unique, though. There are no schools, nor really teachers. We have to study and find faith in ourselves and our abilities as well as divine sources of inspiration. We often serve as mediators between the mortal and the divine in a more neutral way than clerics do.” He shrugged lightly, though there was a seriousness in his eyes as he remembered the promises he had made. ”A Lore Keeper is an Oracle of Lore who gains as much or more of their knowledge and power from tales, songs, and poems than from books. Ideally, knowledge that we gather is shared with those who it can help, but sometimes… some knowledge can be dangerous. A Lore Keeper spends their life saving knowledge not only to share, but also to hold in trust for the future if it is not yet time to let it be widely known.” And, oh, there was an arrogance in that assumption, and it was possible to be too cautious and to withhold too much or the wrong thing. Having divine magic wasn’t the same thing as having divine wisdom, after all.

”Bardic magics are spells that rely on voice or performance, of course!” He almost grinned, regretting keenly the lack of energy that kept him from his more flamboyant display of his past. Not that he had much but sleight of hand to call on now… his humor faded as he sighed and shook his head. ”Spells to calm emotions, to inspire feats of great strength in allies, to strike fear into enemies… or to protect the minds of my friends from enemy spells that seek to confuse or frighten them in turn. Spells, too, to turn sound into a physical weapon, or even to create miniature portals of my own.” His smile was a bitter thing as he looked away. ”Caido stripped those from me when I passed through the Voice’s portal, alas. And the magics of this world are very different from those I had once mastered.”

loren

Jigano’s shrug was meaningless to Loren. Perhaps it meant the white-haired man agreed; perhaps it meant he disagreed; or perhaps it simply meant that he was tired of the conversation and didn’t want to argue. The summoner certainly felt that way. It didn’t help when they continued speaking about the Launceleyns, and Loren’s past and present and future. He felt like he didn’t have much of a future, and that his past was his present, and it was a dark and sad and lonely present.

Yes, that was one way of looking at it, and even if the summoner acknowledged the others the bard proposed, Loren was set on his course. Maybe it was the wrong decision, but it was his, and he had precious few of those left to him these days. Granted, he couldn’t make progress on his secret, stupid, selfish dream until he knew everything was safe. And that included from Zariah. ”I’m still not convinced she’s coming back at all. But if she does, I’ll die before I bow to her will.” It came out softly, but completely matter-of-factly, and filled with a complete and genuine conviction: if his cousin came back and did not atone for his sins, the summoner would oppose her. She probably wouldn’t kill him, given how little of the family was left. And he could take whatever she chose to dish out at him.

Although Jigano was probably trying to cheer the Launceleyn up or be kind, it wasn’t going to work. If the bard found it hard to believe, well, that was his problem and not Loren’s. ”Magically and mentally weak, too.” Maybe not stupid, but useless, which was just as bad. And pretty much every independent action he’d taken since coming back had just reinforced the physical and mental weakness. But at least his magic was strong, which was ironic, because once upon a time that had been all he cared about. Well, life and his own piss-poor judgment had a funny way of kicking him in the teeth.

Normally the Launceleyn would’ve loved hearing about magic of any kind, even if it was magic he’d never experienced because it stemmed from a different world. However, the earlier conversation—and his own general malaise—had sapped any enjoyment he might’ve derived from the bard’s words. So the summoner remained silent through the other man’s explanation of his former abilities and how magic worked in the world he’d come from. ”I’m sorry for your loss.” Loren couldn’t imagine how terrible it would feel to lose such a core part of himself. And it sounded like Jigano felt similarly, and had actually experienced it.

Never judge a book by its cover.

"Edy seemed convinced," Jigano said soberly. "And given her power... I doubt she's been cooperative enough to get eaten by a banshee or trapped by a Wicker Woman." Loren's conviction was impressive however, and seemed utterly sincere. Jigano nodded slowly, acknowledging the vow though he didn't know the young scholar well enough to know whether he would keep it, or break under the pressure that Zariah could exert with her manipulations and lies.

Because it wouldn't be Loren she threatened. Oh no. It would be Remi, and anyone else the scholar seemed close to. Loren might be resolute enough to hold himself firm in the face of her dark magics, might have courage and more to face her in direct combat, but would he hold so firm if she pressed her fingers to Remi's throat and promised to drain the life from the alchemist if Loren didn't submit to her will again?

"I hope that you don't have to," the bard said quietly, and just as sincerely.

Again the scholar tried to turn all talk about himself into self-deprecation and insults, and this time Jigano lacked the strength to fight it. "Are you sure you don't have the blight as well?" he asked dryly, rather than trying to refute it again.

At least talk about his world and past brought a spark to his eyes and animated him for a time, but the reminder of what he had lost was a pill made freshly bitter by the blight in his blood. The other man's condolences were thin, colorless words and Jigano waved them off with a sigh. "As am I. But Caido has granted me other things in turn so..." He shrugged, swallowing back the bile of regret and forcing his frown from his face with an act of will as he looked back at the summoner. "What magic did you have in Northwind? Was it different than what you have now?"

loren

”Edy was also convinced that I’d run off with someone or that I was in a sex cave, so you’ll forgive me for not trusting her judgment. Unless she knew something we didn’t, I won’t believe Zariah isn’t gone for good until I see it with my own eyes.” Preferably with his glasses on: an illusion seemed more likely than anything else at this point. ”That doesn’t mean I won’t prepare for her return. I just won’t go looking for it.” As Jigano spoke his own conviction, Loren just shrugged. ”She won’t want to kill me. At the very least she’d want to keep me around to breed.” And while the summoner didn’t want to kill his cousin, even now—and still thought she might listen to reason, or at least to him—if she forced his hand, he didn’t know what he would do. Probably more than he thought he was capable of. That tended to be how it worked for him.

Haha very funny. That was a rhetorical question if Loren had ever heard one, because of course he didn’t have the blight and they both knew it. The Launceleyn didn’t even bother to respond. However, he did reply to the bard’s comment about Caido's gifts. "What kind of gifts?" It occurred to Loren that he knew pretty much nothing about Jigano. And it seemed that the white-haired man knew pretty much nothing about the Launceleyn. ”Mostly the same. I was primarily a conjuror, which meant I could always summon creatures. I used to have stronger creation magic, and I had a touch of healing, which is a lot stronger now. I have limited telekinesis now too.” It wasn’t impressive, compared to what Remi could do or the greatest Launceleyns were capable of, but Loren had come a long way from being the weak one.

At least magically: as he’d told the bard, the summoner was still weak in all the ways that counted.

Never judge a book by its cover.

Jigano was less certain that Edy had been 'convinced' of her story, so much as she had found it convenient and salacious enough to amuse her as she spread the rumor around. Given her annoyance at Remi's timidity, he suspected she'd done it as much to mess with the alchemist as anything else - and since Loren's lack of confidence in himself seemed a match for the manticore's, Jigano wouldn't have put it past her to have chosen the tale specifically to rub the (slightly) older Launceleyn the wrong way as well.

Given that she had also made Jigano king - very, very briefly - he also couldn't dispute Loren's distrust of her judgment. He'd learned not to count his enemies dead until they'd been disintegrated beyond even the effects of a Resurrection spell to bring back, however, and if Loren didn't believe she was coming back, the bard was less confident in the preparations he would go about making. Not when there were so many other disasters to distract them all. The mention of 'breeding', though, had him grimacing with distaste as he remembered her reasoning behind the 'men-only' draft and what she had tried to do to Rexanna.

But then again, it wasn't Loren Jigano was worried about if the Tyrant returned and decided to apply pressure on her family. Surely he know that better than the bard ever could though, so the lorekeeper just nodded agreement before the talk turned to the past rather than the future.

What kind of gifts? A small smile managed to win through the blight as the bard tried to remember what forms Loren had seen him in before. He was shy about transforming in front of others, and he had held the secret of his race close for several seasons before finally revealing it to others. It still felt uncomfortable to say it so baldly, and in truth it wasn't even the greatest gift he had received. "A home," he said quietly. "A... place to return to. A family, small and ragged though it might be. Hope and a future." Strange things for a blighted man to be saying, perhaps. Then again, perhaps not; the blight was receding, and what had once been assumed as a death sentence now seemed like it would eventually be a bad memory of a time they had survived more or less intact.

He listened curiously to Loren's list of schools of magic, nodding slowly as they fit with what he had learned of Caido's magic as well. "I've made a study of the different types of magic here," he offered impulsively. "And I've found the notes of previous Caido scholars on the subject. I could share it with you, if you'd like? It might give you a sense of how far your powers may continue to grow across the different schools." He had shared the information with only a few, lacking a school for magic users or any formal training programs, and being hunted by Zariah and then corrupted by the blight. Loren seemed like he might be able to use the knowledge to teach others, though, and he was a strong enough mage to make sense of it.

loren

Loren had a house, but not a home. His family was small and ragged as well, but what remained distrusted him (for good reason) and probably thought it would’ve been better for him not to return at all. As for hope and a future, well, all his dreams had crumbled into dust lately. Still, he knew that voicing any of that would just prompt further questions and sympathy from Jigano, and the Launceleyn didn’t want any of that. ”That sounds nice.” His tone was inscrutable: while it did indeed sound nice, it was also so far beyond him that he just felt empty and dull at the thought of it.

The offer from the bard to provide what information he knew about the magics of Caido was unexpected and yes, welcome. ”Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” Once upon a very brief time, not so long ago, the summoner had thought about opening up a school to teach magic or whatever else he could. While those dreams had faded with the rest, he still knew that educating himself could prove useful down the line. At the very least, it would help prepare him to face Zariah if she did indeed return.

Never judge a book by its cover.

'Nice.' Surviving the blight and learning to trust and let others care about him again after five years of self-imposed exile and guilt and suffering for atonement was 'nice.' Jigano managed to keep his expression neutral, but he felt that blight curling within his gut, trying to feed the frustration he felt at trying to talk to Loren, when the Launceleyn was so caught up in his 'oh woe is me' mindset that he seemed utterly oblivious to others around him. Even the questions that was asking came across as perfunctory when he showed such disinterest in the answers, and Jigano found himself sighing. No wonder the mage and Deimos got along so well. This was beginning to remind him of his first real talk with the big man from Helovia, and how difficult it had been to try and carry that conversation too. At least then he hadn't been shaking with weakness, skin cold and soul still fighting just to breathe some days.

His offer was a last-ditch attempt to find a bridge before the conversation collapsed under its own weight and the Launceleyn's brooding. He half-expected that to be snubbed as well, but the agreement and gratitude had him drawing a slow breath to try and calm the blightbeast that still lurked within, threatening to lash out at any imagined provocation. "What types of Caido magic do you already know about?" He asked instead, trying to find a baseline for what the Launceleyn was already familiar with to avoid repetition.

loren

Jigano had been the one who wanted conversation, not Loren, so he was barely paying attention to the effect his words were having on the other man. Indeed, if the bard had voiced his frustrations, the Launceleyn might’ve made a cursory apology, but chances were equally strong he might’ve just shrugged: while the white-haired man’s ordeal over the past year was rough, it wasn’t like the summoner had ever had an easy time with anything. Childhood of torture at the hands of his family was usually a pretty effective trump card.

The question caught Loren off guard and he frowned, running down the list. ”Summoning, healing, creation, telekinesis, transmutation, earth, life drain, disintegration, lightning, and fire. There’s also one that seems unique to the individual who possesses it. I think that’s it, but I may have missed a couple.” Seeing as he’d hung out with a lot of Abandoned, it wasn’t that surprising that he’d encountered so many disparate types of magic. Still, it just taught him how little he knew about Caido and its secrets, even now.

Never judge a book by its cover.

Loren seemed quite familiar with the different schools of magic on Caido, and Jigano nodded thoughtfully. He cast his mind back to the journal he had translated with the help of his magical spectacles, that held the different types of magic and compared them to what the other man had listed. "That's most of them," he agreed. "Air and water round out the elements, and illusions are also possible, though they seem less common." He tilted his head in acknowledgment of Loren's own specialties. "I'm sure you've felt your own magic go through different stages of mastery. There are only three that have been recorded so far for each type of magic. Once you've reached the third stage it seems unlikely that you'll grow any stronger in it."

Speaking of growing stronger, the bard slid from his seat and carefully stretched, testing his blight-blunted limits as he grimaced at his shaking hands. "But the unique magics interest me greatly. I've seen a sort of firework spell that's different from the more usual fire manipulation school. And Ronin's powers don't fit within any other frame of reference that I've found so far." He gave Loren a small shrug and a lopsided smile. "What about you? What have you seen that seems unusual or specific to a certain individual?" It would be interesting to pool their experience and expand the existing record, at the very least.

loren

Well, it seemed that the remaining magics were at least ones that Loren was familiar with. In fact, in the case of illusion magic, he was far more familiar with it than he cared to admit: once he’d arrived in Northaven, his family had primarily possessed illusion magic, which meant that had primarily been how they tortured him.

It hurt even worse than the physical magics.

”I’m familiar with air and water magic from Northaven, as well as illusion magic.” Still, seeing how the summoner’s abilities had shifted when he came to Caido, he figured it was worth seeing if that was the same for the other arcane arts. ”However, I’d be curious to know how they operated in this world.” He wasn’t going to make any assumptions, not when it came to magic.

The three stages was a new bit of information and the Launceleyn frowned as he processed it. ”Interesting. Why three? And is that true for all magics? Do they all become similarly powerful at different stages, or does one progress more quickly or slowly between stages?” Those questions weren’t all that important, though he was genuinely curious to know the answers. At the same time, he was trying to assess and categorize his own abilities in this new framework.

As for the unique magics, well, it seemed Jigano was as lost as Loren was. ”I’ve seen the fireworks as well. Ronin derives his magic directly from Safrin, as I understand it. I wouldn’t expect divine magic to work along the same rules as Abandoned, especially because ours is innate. As for Remi, well, I don’t know if he has unique abilities so much as he has more magic than anyone I’ve ever met, and so can combine it in unique ways.” Granted, that last point was pretty much the same as unique magics, but Loren hadn’t ever seen or heard of the alchemist demonstrating anything beyond incredibly powerful versions of the magic they knew about.

Never judge a book by its cover.