Fabrisse Book 2 (Chapter 7)

The probe’s tip hovered over the first marked grain point.

Fabrisse steadied his breathing, adjusted the sub-zero matrix, and let the instrument’s imprinted aetheric resonance merge with the quartz’s own. The Eidralith flashed some results.

[Survey Point 1/3]  

Aetheric grain reading: 0.037 Hz deviation from baseline.  

Status: stable.

The Eidralith really is convenient in situations like this. He didn’t even have to read from his instruments, but he did so anyway to ensure accuracy.

He recorded it in neat script, then turned the quartz fractionally for point two.

[Survey Point 2/3]  

Aetheric grain reading: 0.041 Hz deviation.  

Note: anomaly threshold not reached.

So far, so normal.

He angled the probe toward the final point, grazing a milky vein that had always caught his eye.

[Survey Point 3/3]  

Aetheric grain reading: 0.000 Hz deviation.  

Flag: potential locked resonance.  

Fabrisse frowned. Locked resonance wasn’t something quartz did under temperature induction. At least, not unless it was shielding something inside.

I should do a lattice scan, he thought, right before the system flashed him something else.

[Optional Follow-up Recommended: Lattice Scan]  

His fingers moved before his mind caught up. He switched the probe to micron-lattice mapping mode, slowly tracing the surface. The instrument gave a soft chime when it hit a distortion.

Forty-three microns in, the lattice warped—just slightly, like a frozen eddy in a river of crystal. The interference bled faint harmonics into the surrounding grains in a pattern that should have dissipated within microseconds, yet clung stubbornly to the structure as if anchored.

This is great; this is awesome. If only Min allows me to conduct this sort of analysis in class. I know all the steps.

Second-order aetheric bleed; this wasn’t from the coldfield nor his probe.

One was pure and mineral-clean, a tone shaped by geological time and pressure.

The other . . . the other had edges, tiny fluctuations that didn’t belong to crystal growth or elemental flow. They were too irregular.

He’d seen similar interference in attuned artifacts before, where the resonance had been warped by long-term emotional bleed from a handler. Grief and joy, fear and longing—human states left faint but permanent impressions in the aetheric structure. He didn’t know which emotion it was, for there were other tests needed using tools he hadn’t yet learned how to use. But the emotions were there.

Is this object soulbound? Likely.

If only he could cast Aetheric Grain Analysis on these fluctuations now.

And if the mineral stratification, the density-to-resonance ratio, and the stubborn refusal to so much as microfracture under coldfield were all added to the tally . . . well.

The PRAXIS note was almost smug now:

[Survey Complete: Extended Parameters]  

Conclusion: behaves like Legendary-tier quartz or above.  

Proof Level: insufficient.  

Margin of error: ±18.7%

It calculated the margin of error for me too? But based on which metrics?

SYSTEM NOTE: Sufficient for bragging rights. Insufficient for peer-reviewed papers.

Thanks . . .

But is this item really a Legendary-tier one? Those are so rare; we’re talking one in a million rare. But this was an item presented to him by Severa Montreal. If anyone had the capability to discover something of that calibre without so much as yawning, it was her.

He almost wanted to take it home with him, and would have done so had he not have principles. 

[New Sidequest Completed: “Shards Beneath the Ice”]

Completion Time: 1 hour, 46 minutes

Reward:

+65% Understanding toward unlocking Aetheric Grain Analysis (Rank I)

+3 Stone Thaumaturgy Mastery Points

Bragging rights (local)

[Research Completed: +25 EXP]

[Progress to Level 7: 3584/4550]

1 hour, 46 minutes? Most field calibrators he’d read about took twice that time just to finish the survey, never mind the follow-up lattice scans and harmonic tests. If Min Hajin ever saw that timestamp, he might even nod in quiet approval.

“Montreal. Look!” He turned, ready to lay out every precise measurement and improbable anomaly for Severa Montreal—

She was asleep.

Standing.

Her head tipped forward a fraction, her breathing slow and steady. The folds of her robe swayed with each breath, but otherwise she was motionless.

He stared, unsure whether to be impressed or deeply concerned. He hadn’t even known people could sleep like that.

“Uh . . . Montreal?” He called again, to not answer.

Maybe she’s exhausted. That’s what happens when you don’t eat dinner.

Instinct told him to wake her—this was the perfect moment to hand over his findings, basking in the rare satisfaction of being absolutely correct.

Then another, stronger instinct reminded him that Severa Montreal was not known for her gentle morning disposition . . . or her gentle disposition at any other time of day, really. He preferred her like this. Silent, but the kind of silent that didn’t involve glaring daggers across the room.

But she’d have to be awake sooner or later.

With careful steps, he closed the distance. She’d gone slack—head tipped forward, shoulders loose, like her bones had taken a temporary leave of absence. The only way she could still be upright was by coaxing the air into holding her there, subtle as a cat pretending it hadn’t been asleep all day.

[Intuitive Understanding Gained: +1 INT]

How does gaining knowledge about how someone sleep raises your intuition? How does this work, exactly?

[COROLLARY: Structural analysis of improbable sleeping postures may improve recognition of concealed magical supports.]

“Montreal. Are you awake?” He called out.

Her eyes snapped open. In less than a heartbeat she was perfectly poised again—chin lifted, back straight, expression politely blank—as if she’d been that way all along.

“Of course. I’ve been awake all along,” she said.

Right. At least she’s not yelling at me. Best keep it that way. “. . . I’ve finished the analysis.”

“What did you find out?”

“The quartz sample’s reaction under sub-zero induction yielded no phase shift, but the surface lattice shows a localized resonance warping at forty-three microns. There’s also harmonic bleed—probably second-order aetheric interference—”

She cut in. “In words that aren’t an alchemy textbook.”

He paused, then said, “There’s an imprint inside. I can’t tell whether it’s positive or negative, or if it’s worth prying open. I don’t have the means or the knowledge to find out. Also, the quartz is already soulbound.”

“To whom?”

“I don’t know. But now that the imprint’s been uncovered, whoever it’s bound to will feel the effect the moment they handle it.” He paused. This was the important moment, and he was eager to see her reaction. “I’m not 100% certain. But this item might be a Legendary-tier quartz.” His voice grew small at the end.

“What?” Her eyes widened, then narrowed, then widened again with the demand. “Prove it.”

That was a decent reaction, but not enough excitement. 6 out of 10.

“I can’t—at least not aetherically,” he admitted, shifting his weight. “I don’t have the skills or the equipment for that kind of reading.” He hesitated, then gestured to the notes laid out on the workbench. “But based on mineral stratification, the density-to-resonance ratio, and the crystalline response under sub-zero aetheric dampening—”

She cut in once more, “In plain terms, Kestovar.”

He exhaled. It was harder to describe to someone who’d little knowledge of minerals than he’d thought. “It behaves like a legendary-tier quartz would, based on every indirect indicator I could test without risking damage. The structure is too stable for common variants, and it resisted all thermal and elemental stimulus without a trace of microfracture. Those qualities . . . well, they narrow the possibilities down to maybe five known legendary types.”

She leaned in over the table, scanning his neat diagrams and meticulous measurements. If she can’t understand measurements, at least she can read the conclusions! This is impressive work. She can’t deny it.

Still, she tapped the page with one manicured nail. “You said might. That means you’re not sure. And if you’re not sure, Kestovar, this could all just be an elaborate waste of both our time.” Her tone was even, but each word pressed on the uncertainty like a thumb on a bruise.

Okay, three out of ten now.

He stiffened, shoulders drawing in. “I told you, without the right testing—”

“Yes. Without the right testing, it’s nothing more than a theory. A good theory, perhaps, but still one you’d be laughed out of a guildhall for staking your reputation on.”

The faint crease between his brows deepened. He should’ve known better than expecting praise from Severa Montreal. Still, she wasn’t wrong, and that troubled her more than he cared to admit.

“Thank you for your troubles,” she said. At least she was nice enough, and hadn’t made any unnecessarily scathing comment.

“I don’t need your thanks,” Kestovar replied. “But please deliver your side of the deal.” Maybe he should’ve asked her to honor her side of the deal and finish teaching him the skill first, but this seemed like an urgent matter to her.

“I keep my words,” she said at last. “There is nothing to worry about. Note down your schedule in a glyph, and I’ll be in contact.”

He did as told, and the second he finished scribbling on the glyph, Severa had already opened the door.

A butler stood at the far end of the corridor, posture so precise it might have been drawn with a ruler. The silent efficiency of the whole exchange left no room for lingering.

Fabrisse glanced back at the quartz one last time, the itch of curiosity gnawing at him. If he could bring it home, he’d have weeks’ worth of tests to run, notes to compile, theories to challenge. But his time here was clearly over.

He stepped out into the hall.