Fabrisse Book 2 (Chapter 15)

The moment they stepped into the forest, a quest popped up in Fabrisse’s vision as if that quest was region-locked.

[QUEST RECEIVED: Vermin Control: Nibberhares]

Objective: Capture or eliminate 5 nibberhares

Reward: + 250 EXP

• 1 STR
• 1 DEX

[SYSTEM NOTE: Do not underestimate a rodent’s bite radius, reproductive velocity, or ability to ruin footwear.]

Of course he had to accept that.

The group didn’t even bother forming a complex plan. Sven suggested they simply spread out and sweep in a rough semicircle to flush the nibberhares toward a choke point. Veliane added that if they startled the colony, the rodents would scatter in panic, so it was better to funnel them toward a shallow gully where they could be captured or dispatched cleanly.

For Fabrisse, it still felt strangely overengineered. This was supposed to be a beginner quest. Kaldrin had told him that first-years cut their teeth on it by simply whacking the things with sticks and hoping they didn’t trip over each other in the process. More sophisticated thaumaturge would never be anywhere near a nibberhare anyway; slaying one would only yield 5 Kohns in return, redeemable in the Synod, and between four people the amount earned was negligible.

But Veliane sketched sigils in the dirt with her boot, setting up soft-binding glyphs to corral movement. Sven shifted his grip on the short staff he’d brought along (for reasons that seemed excessive against rodents), twirling it once as though preparing to crack the skull of creatures ten times the size of a nibberhare.

Liene finally clapped her hands together with a bright smile. “Well, the point of the field excursion is for us to get to know each other as a party and get familiar with each other’s style! So let’s treat it as if we’re going on a hunt for, oh, I don’t know.” She put a hand on her chin. “A small pack of forest drakes. Something you can’t just swat and be done with.”

Which meant they’d definitely need a complex, and even more overly-engineered plan now.

Luckily for Fabrisse, the party settled quickly on a simple structure: two on lure duty, two on control.

“Fabri and I will do the luring, and you two can take the trap.” Liene spoke as if it had been pre-decided.

“Okay,” Veliane said at once, brushing the edge of her cloak back. She crouched to the soil and began marking circles with the tip of her boot, with Sven moving beside her.

Veliane’s boot traced precise arcs in the loam, her posture sharpened by concentration. At first glance the symbols looked like standard containment glyphs—something even a scribe-for-hire could set up with enough chalk and patience. But Fabrisse knew better. Normal glyphcraft relied on rote geometry: set the angles, balance the runic lattice, anchor it with chalk or ink, and let ambient aether drip through like water through a sluice gate.

Veliane’s marks, though, shimmered with a beige glow of aether, the same beige he saw from Lorvan’s calm-powered containment glyph. Lorvan had told Fabrisse that imprinting calm would produce stable, consistent containment fields with smooth edges that resist leakage or collapse compared to standard glyphs. The trap could remain for hours. Fabrisse had no way of confirming, for he hadn’t seen the glyphs from other disciplines.

Sven planted the butt of his staff in the dirt, drawing a rough curve in the loam with the tip. “We’ll set the traps along this perimeter,” he said, gesturing to give them the line. His tone was more practical than commanding. “So you two just focus on luring them in, and make sure you don’t stumble into the traps yourselves.”

“Let’s go!” Liene said, almost bouncing, and tugged Fabrisse by the sleeve. He stumbled after her as she led them deeper between the roots.

They crouched their way through the undergrowth, listening for rustling or claw-clicks. Liene’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “So, what do you have in mind?”

Fabrisse’s first thought was Tremblehold but dismissed it. Using that for luring felt ineffective, at the very least. He’d need to cast the spell so many times just to direct the hares in the right direction, and if he hit them right, the spell would slow the creatures down instead of pushing it to run towards traps. 

That made him think of another: Whirlweave, Rank II. But the new aetheric reaction equation was convoluted: he’d need to continually cast the spell while doing it quickly, plus mnemonic recitation. He’d burn out long before they flushed enough nibberhares into the trap.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Too many parts.

Then he remembered. Liene’s notebook had an alternative formula scrawled between doodles and cheerful annotations for this very spell, at this very rank.

She’d written: Sooo, how I do it is just casting continually, but with joy! That’s it. You know how easy it is to guide the wind when you’re actually having fun? It’s like the air wants to play along if you do. No need for quick hand motions or chanting.

I can feel joy now, he thought, but do I have enough emotional awareness to cast it on command now?

[Whrilweave—Rank II—Updated]

Alternative Aetheric Reaction Equation: 60% Joy Channeling + 40% Continual Shaping

Alternative Casting Requirement: SYN ≥ 9; EMO ≥ 15

I have 15! I don’t just have 15. I have 17!

The mere thought made blue sparks dance across his fingertips.

A twig snapped to their left. Liene’s eyes lit, and she pointed wordlessly. Just past the tangle of bracken, a nibberhare crouched, its ears twitching like antennae.

He raised his hand and let the wind slip loose, not from rote geometry but from that surge of satisfaction, a little giddy at proving himself capable. Blue-tinted air curled from his palm in a coaxing stream. The foliage rustled, parted, and the hare bolted straight out into the open, guided by the playful current.

Liene’s eyes lit up. “You’ve read my notes!”

The hare darted in the direction of Sven’s perimeter, exactly as intended. It was gone from his radius in a blink of an eye. His wind couldn’t pass the roughly three-meter threshold.

But Liene was already springing after it, igniting a quick flare of gold. “I’ve got it!” she sang out in a breathless whisper.

She released a small prism of light—bright, dazzling, like sunlight bouncing from water. The hare skidded at the sudden gleam. Dazzled, it turned sharply, darting exactly toward the shallow gully where Veliane’s glyphs were set.

“C’mon, Fabri, hurry!” Liene called over her shoulder, already chasing after the light-beguiled creature with delighted energy.

The undergrowth whipped against his legs as Fabrisse scrambled to follow.

Liene hardly needed him once the chase began. Every turn of her hand shaped the light, refracting it just where the nibberhare’s eyes would catch. It bounded, zigzagging madly, but each swerve only pushed it closer to the line Sven had marked. She was laughing under her breath, exhilarated, her gold flare dancing like a will-o’-wisp between the trees.

Fabrisse trailed behind, panting, but couldn’t help noticing: she wasn’t working against the hare’s instincts. The nibberhare burst into the shallow gully, paws thumping hard against the loam—

—and the ground snapped shut.

The air clenched as if the space itself remembered it was smaller than it looked. The hare let out a distorted squeal, cut short as translucent walls manifested around it.

The hare hurled itself against a side. The barrier didn’t flex or ripple.

“Perfect catch,” Liene whispered, grinning wide as she jogged up. “That’s one for Veist.” Veliane simply nodded.

Fabrisse’s breath caught, not at the hare, but at the way the trap’s edge held, beige and smooth and absolute, as Lorvan had described. That was super effective.

[Nibberhare Count: 1/5]

Sven smiled. “Lure one to my traps next. Mine’s nothing fancy; it’s mechanical, but it makes a cool sound when it clicks.”

“Okay!” Liene jogged back the direction she came from, grabbing Fabrisse by the wrist in the process. “You keep casting Whirlweave the moment you see movement, okay?”

Her grin was so bright and unguarded that Fabrisse felt the corners of his own mouth curve upward along with her.