9. Benjin

nine

Benjin

Benjin stirred the bubbling flask with a thin glass rod. Faint wisps of runeflame flickered across the rod, seeping from Benjin's fingers down into the potion.

"Good, good," Dexil said, watching keenly. "Remember the pattern I showed you. If you don't stir in the proper configuration, the ingredients won't combine correctly."

Benjin nodded, ignoring the sweat prickling his brow while he tried to recall the precise steps the Grand Magus had demonstrated. It had made a shape like a dragon's fang—he recalled that much. But was it supposed to be two or three turns at the fang's tip before he reversed direction?

His runeflame flared. The flask hissed, steam rising from it thanks to the heating enchantment Dexil had taught him.

"Careful now!" Dexil said. "Keep your flow of magic at the same rate or else the potion might backfire. Consistency, my boy—that's the key when it comes to alchemy."

Benjin gritted his teeth. That was easy for Dexil to say. He'd received a proper education at the Arcanum and spent years honing his craft. Benjin had only a two-week crash course in basic alchemy to draw upon.

Goddess' mercy, he still didn't even know why he was here. What had made the Grand Magus choose him over all those far more qualified applicants from across the kingdom?

The flask holding the potion shivered, the liquid within turning a bright crimson. His eyes widening, Benjin had barely a second's warning to throw himself to the side before the glass shattered in an eruption of wild magic. Flashes of multicolored light and heat seared the air above him.

Once the dusty haze and fizzling sparks had cleared, he lowered his arms from where he'd covered his head and glanced up from the floor. Dexil was studying him with a reproving frown. One of his necklaces glowed with an activated ward. The barrier of force it had conjured to shield him flickered and faded as he stepped forward and easily hauled Benjin to his feet.

"What's the first rule of magic, lad?"

Benjin bowed his head. "Never lose your concentration."

"That's right." Dexil glanced about his workshop. His violet gaze lingered on the scarred table where the potion had been and the fragments of scattered glass left by the destroyed flask. "Nothing a simple Restoration or two won't fix. Why don't you take a break while I tidy up?"

Nodding, Benjin trudged to the nearest chair and sank into it. Now that he wasn't channeling runeflame, he could feel the full weight of his exhaustion. Dexil might be remarkably patient with Benjin's many failures, but that didn't make him any less demanding of a taskmaster. Between the Grand Magus' grueling lessons and Benjin's actual duties running errands and aiding him with his work, the past two weeks had left little time for rest or relaxation.

He couldn't help but feel out of place. The occasional frowns and pointed looks he received made it clear that a lowborn like him didn't belong in the palace. Even some of the guards and servants treated him as an oddity risen above his station.

Still, he knew he couldn't let their prejudice deter him. No matter what anyone else thought, he wouldn't have traded his apprenticeship for anything. His wages alone were enough incentive to do whatever it took to keep his position in the palace. The first bag of coins he'd sent home to his mother had been more than he could've made in a year working in Revesole.

Money aside, his mind also thrilled at every scrap of new knowledge he acquired. It turned out it was far easier to learn magic when you had an actual teacher to supplement stolen peeks at books and poor attempts to replicate other mages' spells.

So much of mastering runeflame came down to precision—to memorizing the proper sigils and practicing the required hand gestures until you could conjure the desired effect via instinct alone. Perhaps someday, Benjin would be capable of more than mere parlor tricks…or brew a potion that didn't explode in his face.

Benjin watched Dexil activate a small charm to animate a broom so that it began sweeping the glass shards into a neat pile. The Grand Magus then moved to the table and sprinkled dark brown powder over its surface. He focused his runeflame into the dust until it began to glow, the scarred wood gradually regaining its former luster.

"I'm sorry, sir," Benjin said, wishing he could help. "I'll do better next time—I swear."

"Of course you will, lad." Dexil spared him a brief smile before returning his attention to the table. "These things take practice and extensive study. You're already far more proficient at alchemy than you were when you first arrived. Still, there's always room for improvement."

A bemused snort came from over by the door. "Clearly."

Benjin's gaze shot over to the doorway to see Prince Haldric standing there. His back was ramrod straight, his placid expression somehow still managing to drip cool condescension. Their eyes briefly met, the prince's gaze seeming to measure him and find him unworthy.

Scowling, Benjin looked away. He hadn't spoken to the prince since that run-in by the king's bedside, but Benjin had glimpsed him prowling the halls often these past two weeks, radiating haughty disdain. How he could be the son of someone as gracious and kind as King Roland, Benjin would never understand.

"Ah, Prince Haldric," Dexil said from over by the table. "My apologies—our lesson today slipped my mind. Benjin and I had a bit of a mishap."

"So I see."

Benjin answered Haldric's quirked eyebrow with a glare. This time, he refused to break eye contact until Haldric blinked and turned away.

The prince strode toward the table, holding up a hand shimmering with azure bands of runeflame. "I can help if you wish," he said, sounding almost eager for the first time since Benjin had met him.

Dexil waved him away. "No need, Your Highness. I have it handled. Although, I'm afraid we'll need to reschedule your lesson. Once I finish this potion for Lady Samilla, I still need to attend to the wards for the Provincial Council's Summit next month."

A faint frown flickered over Haldric's lips before he smoothed it away. "Of course. Another time, then. I have my own preparations I should make for the Summit anyway."

The prince turned to depart, Benjin glad to be rid of him, when Dexil called out, "One moment, Your Highness! Just because I'm too busy for our regular lessons is no excuse to slack on your studies. Perhaps we can find another arrangement."

The Grand Magus glanced at Benjin, who tensed. He had an unpleasant feeling that he wasn't going to like what Dexil suggested next.

Sure enough, the mage said cheerfully, "As you yourself pointed out, my apprentice requires more practice. Why don't the two of you train together?"

Benjin leaped to his feet, scrambling for any excuse to get out of it. The last thing he wanted was to spend time alone with the arrogant prince. "What about the wards, master? And your potion. I should be here in case you require my assistance."

His face flushed at Haldric's incredulous snort.

Dexil, however, fixed him with a kind smile. "Thank you, Benjin, but I'll manage. You need to learn to walk before you can run."

"Perhaps he'd accomplish more practicing the fundamentals on his own," Haldric said. His gaze lingered on the scarred tabletop Dexil was still in the process of mending. "To avoid any…unnecessary distractions."

Dexil shook his head, dashing Benjin's fleeting hope. "Benjin will learn much quicker—and more safely—with supervision. And it never hurts to refresh your own memory of the basics. What better way to bolster your mastery than to convey your learned wisdom to another?"

His face back to an emotionless mask, Haldric inclined his head. "Very well. If that is what you believe best."

Benjin's stomach sank as he glanced between the two of them. Seeing no good way out of it without further disappointing his master, he said, "If the prince is willing, then so am I." After all, how hard could it be to tolerate a spoiled noble's presence for a single afternoon?

"Excellent." Dexil focused back on the table, his runeflame flaring brighter as he added another coating of powder to the tabletop. "In that case, why don't the two of you go find an unused chamber to practice in? You can start by reviewing the fundamental runes and memorizing their common variants. I'll check in with you later this week, Prince Haldric. As for you, Benjin, I expect you back here this evening. There are a few deliveries I need you to make, as well as some fresh ingredients to sort."

Muttering his assent, Benjin trudged after the prince's stiff back. He snuck a quick glance at Dexil as they exited the chamber and swore he caught a pleased smile on the Grand Magus' face. Perhaps Dexil found it amusing to pair them up when they so obviously disliked one another.

Benjin followed Haldric down the hall, doing his best to keep track of where they were within the palace. He'd gotten better at navigating since he'd arrived but still struggled once he left the main thoroughfares.

Eventually, they came to a small sitting room in a quiet part of the palace. Intricate wooden carvings—at least by Ilthabardian standards—paneled the walls, depicting the rolling plains that made up most of the country.

Benjin settled into a cushioned seat, watching warily as the prince shut the door and stood before it, crossing his arms.

"So, what has the Grand Magus already shown you?" Haldric asked. "I need to know how simple to make this lesson. I don't want to be here all day."

Benjin bristled at the prince's dismissive tone. "I'm not a child. You don't need to dumb things down for me."

Haldric tightened his jaw. After a tense moment, he expelled a breath. In that instant, his tired face appeared almost human. Benjin found himself admiring the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the firm contours of his well-defined jawline. Of course, then the prince had to go and ruin it by speaking.

"Look, I realize we got off on the wrong foot and things haven't exactly improved since. But despite what you might think, I bear you no ill will. I simply wish to get through this tedious exercise so that I can attend to more important duties."

More important duties . As if Benjin needed more evidence that Haldric viewed Benjin as beneath him.

"Whatever. Get on with it, then."

Haldric's full lips twisted into a frown. "Very well."

He strode over to the far wall and waved a hand at it in a complex gesture. Azure runeflame flowed from his fingers, conjuring a black slate. More flicks of his fingers etched silver words atop it.

"In the early days of Allaria, the first humans living in the Mortal Realm drew lifeflame from the natural world around them and soulflame from within their own bodies and minds. Then, came the discovery of the Shroud adjacent to our reality. Aspiring mages learned to tap into its power, harnessing its runeflame to alter the fundamental order of the world."

Annoyance flared in Benjin. "I've heard all this before—most everyone has. Then, greedy mages pushed too far and accidentally opened a rift in the Shroud to the Void."

"Indeed. Thus, did they discover voidflame, a twisted echo of runeflame's order. Their folly broke the world asunder and left the uninhabitable Netherwaste as a testament to their hubris. Many were tempted by the power promised by voidflame." He fixed Benjin with a hard look. "Don't be one of them."

Benjin scowled. "I'm perfectly in control of myself. If anyone here is at risk of succumbing to hubris, it's you."

Ignoring his jab, Haldric nodded. "Good. Make sure it stays that way. Control is important for wielding any magic, but especially for runeflame. Even tiny errors can dramatically alter how a spell behaves."

Turning back to the board, Haldric added the last two sources of magic to it: dawnflame and duskflame. "When the Void first invaded the Mortal Realm, the strongest wielders of lifeflame, soulflame, and runeflame came together to fight it. Thus, did they fuse their magic and create the Immortal Realm on the edge of the Shroud to protect us. There, souls pledged to the Dawn and Dusk Councils fight an eternal war against the aberrations from the Void that seek to unravel existence."

"The Celestials and Infernals," Benjin said. "Good and evil."

Haldric rolled his eyes, lowering his hand. "That's just superstition. Duskflame often receives a negative connotation because of its association with Nalax and less savory magic like necromancy. But it is merely a tool, no different from any other. Both dawnflame and duskflame accomplish the same goal—protecting us from the Void."

Benjin raised an eyebrow. "By that logic, isn't voidflame just another tool?"

Haldric adamantly shook his head. "Voidflame is far, far too unstable. Only the insane or foolhardy would ever dare use it."

Benjin opened his mouth to retort—not so much because he disagreed but because he enjoyed pushing Haldric's buttons—but the prince cut him off.

"All of that is mere background. What matters to us is the Shroud and the runeflame which comes from it."

The board listing the six sources of magic flickered out of existence. Haldric strode back toward Benjin, holding up a hand ablaze with blue fire. "Runeflame requires strict teaching and dedication if you want to be a true mage and not some back-alley sorcerer peddling cheap tricks. It's all about learning to recognize and produce patterns."

Performing a complex gesture, Haldric conjured a small, floating orb of light. Benjin recognized the basics of the spell—he'd attempted a similar cantrip during his exam with Dexil. Haldric's, however, blazed far brighter.

The prince sent the orb floating toward Benjin. Benjin stretched out a hand for it. Right as his fingertips grazed it, the orb puffed out of existence. His lips quirking slightly, Haldric made another hand motion that levitated a book off a nearby table and plopped it into Benjin's lap.

Benjin couldn't help but begrudgingly admire the speed and deftness of the prince's technique. Even such simple magic required precision and skill to pull off so adroitly.

"There are seven fundamental disciplines of arcane magic," Haldric said. A small rock appeared in his palm. "Conjuration—creating or summoning an object or creature."

The rock lifted from his palm, floating in midair much like the orb of light or the levitating book. "Evocation—manipulating raw force."

A shimmering sheen of magic briefly enveloped the rock. It faded to reveal a glass globe had taken its place. "Alteration—transforming one thing into another."

Hefting the glass orb, Haldric suddenly hurled it at Benjin. Benjin shouted in alarm, flailing in his chair to shift out of the way. A barrier of force appeared in front of Benjin just in time to deflect the projectile. It ricocheted off the shield and shattered against the floor.

"What in the name of the Goddess?" Benjin hissed, on edge for another attack. His own runeflame crackled at the ready.

Again, the corner of Haldric's mouth ticked up in the barest hint of a grin. "Protection—warding against physical or magical harm."

He appeared unfazed by Benjin glowering at him. A sudden wave of happiness washed over Benjin. Warmth flooded him, and he fixed Haldric with a broad grin. How had it taken him this long to notice how beautifully the prince's emerald eyes sparkled? He yearned to stroke his fingers through Haldric's raven black hair.

The strange euphoria vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving Benjin blinking in confusion. His cheeks heated when he realized his previous vein of thought.

"Compulsion," Haldric explained, appearing amused by Benjin's discomfort. "Making someone think, do, or feel something."

Sorry , a voice whispered in Benjin's mind. He jerked his head around, searching for the voice's source before narrowing his gaze on Haldric. Divination, the voice said. Though Haldric's lips didn't move, the intent concentration on his face and the runeflame flickering over his fingers made Benjin certain the voice came from him. Understanding, predicting, or communicating something .

Turning away from Benjin, Haldric gestured at the pieces of the shattered orb scattered across the floor. In a shuddering wave of glass, they flowed back together until the glass orb sat there, whole and unbroken.

"Restoration." Haldric leaned down to pick up the orb. "Returning an object or creature to its natural state by healing or mending it."

The orb winked out of existence. Haldric leaned back in his seat, his shoulders slumping. It was only then that Benjin realized how much that brief demonstration must've taken out of the prince, swiftly draining his inner reserve of runeflame.

Despite his exhaustion, however, Haldric seemed fully into his lesson now. The shift in him between now and when they'd started was striking. Gone was the arrogant prince with his cold demeanor and emotionless mask. In his place was a young man: excited, eager…and undeniably handsome.

"And there you have it," Haldric said. "The seven basic runeflame disciplines. There are more advanced schools, of course, as well as specialties within each. But those seven cover the vast majority of spells. While a true master of the arcane would learn to harness each in equal measure, most mages find they have an affinity for one or two and choose to focus on those."

Benjin recalled what Dexil had told him that first day about his unusual gift for Evocation. So far, that and Conjuration had definitely come to him more naturally than other types of spells.

"What about alchemy?" he asked, thinking of his work with Dexil. "Where does that fall?"

Haldric's emerald eyes sparkled as he leaned forward. "Good question. Alchemy is a particular means of channeling and focusing runeflame. While hand gestures are the most basic way to shape runeflame, others learn to impart their magic via scrolls, potions, enchanted items, or even music."

He met Benjin's gaze and hesitated, his expression turning uncertain. As if suddenly remembering where he was, some of his good humor faded. He straightened his back and cleared his throat. "But that's enough of an overview. For now, we'll start with a few basic runes. While runeflame possesses greater versatility than any other type of magic, it comes at the cost of precision. Even a minor mistake can cause a spell to fizzle or react unpredictably, and experienced mages might spend years mastering a single advanced technique. I'll show you how to construct each rune while you do your best to copy it exactly."

A quick search of the room turned up some ink and parchment. Haldric sketched the glowing outline of a rune in the air with his finger, then had Benjin write it over and over again until satisfied he'd gotten it right.

It was the sort of tedious grunt work Benjin was coming to expect from practicing magic. As they continued, however, he found himself getting more and more invested into the exercise. There was something oddly soothing about the repetition, and each time he recognized a rune as a component of a spell he already knew, his jolt of triumph made all the previous effort seem worth it.

Even the prince gradually relaxed again. They didn't talk much, but Benjin could see his tension ebbing, his green eyes flashing with excitement each time Benjin succeeded. It made his presence almost tolerable.

Haldric etched a fresh rune in the air, and Benjin recognized it at once as a component of his basic levitation Evocation. Since he already had some familiarity with the rune, he tried to modify it so that the affected object slowly rotated in midair instead of holding in place.

The book he'd targeted shot upward on a gust of runeflame. Instead of spinning as Benjin had intended, however, the poor tome began to rip itself apart. Torn scraps of pages fluttered about the chamber like paper rain.

A flash of runeflame from Haldric canceled out Benjin's fizzled spell and settled the storm of pages. The prince fixed Benjin with a glare. "Goddess' mercy, are you trying to kill us? I told you to copy the runes precisely!"

"It was an accident! I was just trying to—"

"It doesn't matter what you were trying to do. You are untrained and unskilled. If you're not careful, your lack of discipline could get you or someone else killed!" Haldric's voice was a low growl, his jaw clenched tight. "An inexperienced novice like you has no place practicing runeflame at all, let alone as Dexil's apprentice!"

The prince's harsh words echoed Benjin's own whispered insecurities. His face flushed as he abruptly rose and stormed toward the door. "This lesson is over."

"Fine by me. I have better things to do than coddle a fool."

Benjin slammed the door behind him and stalked down the corridor, his mind brewing with furious thoughts of the prince. It was only when he neared his room near those of the other palace servants that shame began to outweigh his ire.

The prince was right—in retrospect, what Benjin had done was incredibly foolish. But that didn't give Haldric the right to respond to Benjin's mistake with such obvious disdain, nor to judge him so severely for it. Who was Haldric to decide who was and wasn't worthy of runeflame?

It was a stark reminder that, no matter the occasional cracks in the prince's cold fa?ade, he remained every bit the arrogant noble who'd first deemed Benjin utterly beneath his notice.