Fabrisse Book 2 (Chapter 4)

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Fabrisse stepped onto the packed-sand floor of the training ring, scanning the other end for a spot as far as possible from Severa Montreal. Even at this distance, he recognized the way she carried herself: precise, controlled, a predator in repose. 

Maybe if he just carried on doing his thing in silence, she’d leave him be. Nine out of ten times, it worked.

He carried the glass bottle of water carefully, uncorked it, and let a few droplets fall onto the sand. Slipping on his Thaumaturge’s Throwmitts, he watched the water ripple slowly.

Fabrisse settled on the far side of the ring, careful to keep his distance. He raised the glass bottle slightly, watching the water inside as it lay still. He pinched his fingers, recalling the delicate water pattern underneath the surface of the bottle.

He aligned his breathing with the pulse of the water, synchronizing his intent with the natural oscillations beneath. Slowly, he wove his mental thread through the ripple, connecting his aetheric energy to the pattern like tuning a fragile instrument. Then he chanted:

“See, wait, speak.”

[Spell Cast: Ripplecall (Rank I)]

The water responded almost immediately, concentric circles blossoming in harmony with his will. The ripple vanished a couple seconds later.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as the water’s ripples held longer than before. Not perfect, but progress.

[Mastery Training: Ripplecall (Rank I)—Progress to Rank II: 2%]

Fabrisse’s faint smile faltered, replaced by a slight frown. He lowered the bottle and glanced around the empty ring, then muttered under his breath, “Why am I even doing Ripplecall?”

His fingers tapped the glass. Just because I happen to be carrying a water bottle, I get pigeonholed into casting water thaumaturgy spells?

He sighed. There isn’t any wind today. Obvious, since it’s an indoor training field. That’s good for fire and air control—less interference.

He turned around to scan the space for the stillest patch of air. His gaze caught on Severa a few steps away, cradling a quartz in her hands.

Hold on. A quartz?

Fabrisse’s eyes narrowed as he studied the quartz cradled in Severa’s hands from across the ring. Why would she be holding a stone like that here? He couldn’t say. It didn’t fit her usual demeanor to carry something so delicate.

The moment his gaze settled on the quartz, his doubts melted away, replaced by a familiar fascination.

Even from this distance, he could make out the stone’s faint translucence—hints of icy blue veins threading through a milky base. The facets caught the dim light in sharp glints, angles so precise they looked almost too perfect to be natural.

It’s definitely a quartz; no doubt there. He thought, But that pale, almost glacial hue . . . no common quartz I know matches it. Not rose quartz, nor smoky quartz. Maybe something akin to those deep-mountain glacier quartz formations—like those rare blue quartz variants found only beneath the ice sheets in the Northern Mounts?

“Do you have business with me?” Came a voice, probably from Severa.

“No,” he answered without thinking. This quartz must have formed under extreme cold, deep glaciers or permafrost layers. That’s why it’s so rare here. The climate’s all wrong for natural formation.

She started to slip the stone back into her robe, but then he added, almost absentmindedly, “That stone might release its imprint under sub-zero conditions.”

“I beg your pardon?” she frowned, turning back fully now.

His gaze remained fixed on the quartz. “It is exceedingly rare,” he said.

“Oh? Is that so?” Severa said as her frown turned into an intrigued furrow of her brows. “Rare in what sense? That I happen to have it, or that you know something useful?” Her words lodged somewhere between incredulity and reluctant intrigue.

“Both,” Kestovar replied. “It’s a glacial imprint quartz. It holds a resonance until the right thermal threshold releases it.”

“Does it actually have a name?” Severa asked.

“I don’t know. I know it’s a quartz, but this type is so rare I don’t know if anyone has classified it.”

“You supposedly spend all your time looking at quartz to not be able to name them.” 

Fabrisse’s lips twitched. Do you know how much it goes into classifying a quartz? You have to start with precise measurements of refractive indices—sometimes down to the thousandth decimal—then map lattice irregularities through internal diffraction or spectrographic analysis. Not to mention identifying any trace aetheric saturations that might skew physical properties. And that’s before even touching on growth conditions, trace element content, or microfracture patterns. Plus, many rare types don’t even have formal taxonomy because the process requires collaboration between geologists, thaumaturges, and historians—and it can take years to confirm if a specimen is truly unique or just a regional variation. It’s not something you just slap a name on because it ‘looks cool.’

“I can still determine its refractive index, map its lattice irregularities, and test for residual aetheric saturation without knowing its formal designation,” he finally responded. “Classification is just nomenclature.”

“Though I suppose you don’t have time,” Severa remarked.

Kestovar glanced toward the glass bottle at his side, the liquid inside catching what little light remained. Then he winced.

Ah. I must get back to my studies. No time to waste debating nomenclature when there are practical calibrations to finalize.

“Why are you even learning water thaumaturgy?” Severa asked, tipping her chin toward the bottle. “Isn’t the Fire Final Test next month?”

He hesitated. “Well . . .” His eyes dropped briefly. “I have a water bottle.”

She stared at him for a second. She must have thought that answer was ridiculous. It sounded ridiculous even to him.

She said, “I know of this one spell that would not disappoint the examiners, if you’re willing to stop wasting your time thinking about water thaumaturgy and focus on something actually relevant.”

It was his turn to stare at her. Severa? Helping? This is just going to be like last time she tries to correct my air casting all over again. She’ll just find every chance possible to belittle me and make the experience as uncomfortable as possible for minimal gain.

He held the stare for several seconds before muttering, “What’s in it for you?”

“Ah. You are sharp today, Kestovar,” Severa said, allowing herself the faintest curl of a smile. “Of course, I’m offering for you to help me crack the stone’s hidden imprint. I could do it myself, naturally, but it’s far more efficient to let someone who already knows their . . .  thing handle it.”

Since when is she interested in rocks? That particular one might be most interesting, but practically, most rocks are . . . just rocks. Many thaumaturges can’t extract enough aetheric resonance from them to ever justify wasting time on them.

Kestovar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You must know a few geologists who would surely know a thing or two,” he said.

“I suppose I could extend the opportunity to you,” she said lightly, as though granting him permission to reach for the last tart on the tray. “Helping a fellow student does reflect well on my record. And if your work is thorough, I might even mention you to someone who is in need of this type of work.”

Fabrisse’s eyes narrowed slightly as he listened. Despite the familiar edge in Severa’s voice, the offer intrigued him. Helping her with the quartz he was interested in and getting help to pass his Fire Thaumaturgy test? It was almost . . . too good to be true.

Why does she have to phrase her sentences for maximum annoyance—

Quest Received: “Fire and Stone Accord”

Objective: Secure Severa Montreal’s aid to pass the Fire Thaumaturgy Final Unit.

Reward: +400 EXP, +3 FOR, +3 EMO, +3 STR, +3 Mastery Points (Fire Affinity registered upon passing).

[SYSTEM NOTE: Rewards scale with difficulty of quest. Proceed with caution.]

Would you like to accept the quest?

[Yes] [No] [Remind Me Later]

This isn’t even a sidequest. It’s a main quest. And why would I gain EMO and STR from getting her help?

Fabrisse stared at the quest window, then at Severa, who was watching him expectantly with those bloody eyes of hers as she tilted her head.

I don’t want to be near her. But this is too good to pass up . . . 

He accepted. Then he turned to Severa, “I’ll do it. But only if you meet my condition.”

“Oh?” Severa arched an eyebrow. “And what condition could possibly be worth your geological expertise?”

“You not only have to teach me a new spell,” he said evenly, “you also have to help me pass my Fire Thaumaturgy test.”