Alchemical Magic: The Alchemist, #2

By Stacey Keystone

Dana Bedwen became a dark mage despite her wishes. Now she has to catch up on her more advanced peers. But with the help of her Grandpa, a great light mage, who is also her Master, and a Major Craen, a dark mage who became her second Master, she will persevere.

In her last, fifth year of University, she has to finish the courses to double major in her dream career of Alchemy and the magic foisted upon her. She'll also deal with relationship trouble with her boyfriend, who previously spied on her, and with her peers, who aren't too happy to find a female mage among them. And on top of that, she'll have to balance her studies with the internship at a promising startup, where she will learn to integrate her talents in Alchemy and magic.

Book two of the Alchemist series, which will take you through Dana's personal growth story, as she accepts her destiny and matures to become the great woman she's destined to be. Without forgetting alchemy, of course.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stacey Keystone
• Release date: Oct 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781839880087

Book preview

Part I

1

The sun was shining through the narrow slit between the curtains. The days started early in the summer here in Ashford, so I didn't have to switch on the gas lamp whenever I woke in the early hours of dawn. Which is good, because the gas isn't always scrubbed properly by the alchemists, and sometimes releases a whiff of rotten eggs.

A smell nasty enough to wake up Jack.

I'm an early bird by habit; growing in Crow Hill, where days last for just four hours during winter makes you value sunlight. Which is why I woke up early today, leaving Jack asleep in my bedroom, covered by a thin blanket, as he rolled around the bed, looking for me. He protested when I slid out of his tight embrace, mumbling something incoherent. I caressed his itchy cheek and kissed his forehead, which calmed him down, and he hugged a pillow tightly.

After washing up and dressing, I sat in the living room of the apartment grandpa assigned to me in his enormous mansion, facing the bay windows behind my desk and the park behind them, trying to get a bit of reading done for today's classes.

I took a sip of the bitter, sweet tea I just made. While the apartment grandpa assigned to me didn't have a kitchen, I had an ethanol burner I used to boil some water. A breeze rustled the curtains. I had left the window open through the night, to get fresh air. It could get a bit too warm for my taste during the day; Ashford climate is given to extremes.

I heard swearing from outside. It was Major Craen, shouting and swearing from the top of his lungs. The cat peed in his boots again. I smiled. The cat, a black rescue I brought from the dumpster, called Stinker, had the habit of peeing in the Major's shoes. Serves him right.

My slippers were dry and smelled of the lavender I stuffed in my cupboard. The cat repellant Stinker didn't like was odorless.

Sometimes Alchemy is a lot more useful than dark magic. Especially if you want to affect living beings.

While I initially brought the cat to the house to annoy grandpa, that didn't work, because grandpa, being a powerful light mage, could get on with the cat. Despite the cat being black (not a single white hair; it took me an eternity to find one among all the cats in the dumpster), and thus, supposedly, according to legend, able to communicate with ghosts and spirits, Stinker didn't seem too keen on that. But she took as a personal mission to expel Major Craen from our home, as soon as it seemed he was staying. I approved of that.

The Major was a dark mage, and he didn't know any spell less lethal than fire magic to get rid of a cat. And we made it quite clear that he had to use non-lethal and non-crippling ways to deal with Stinker. Or Mia, as Grandpa insisted on calling her, pointing out she was a female cat, after all. That was a meaningless detail, considering the fierce attitude of Stinker. She was a street cat, tough, used to fighting and scrounging for food. I liked her but wanted her to stay away from my slippers. She accepted the bribes in the form of mutton roast bits (it's one of the cheapest meats, since it stinks, but stinker doesn't mind).

The Major, who specialized in battle magic, didn't know how to deal with a cat peacefully, so he engaged in shouting matches with her, throwing shoes at it, and generally behaving like the typical male dark arall. I wonder when he'll come at the obvious solution: bribery.

I heard a loud thump noise. The Major threw his slipper at the cat.

I don't think he'll ever learn.

Is he still fighting with the cat? Jack's voice said from behind. He sneaked up on me, like he occasionally did, and gave me a back hug.

I'd gotten used to this by now and didn't spill my tea. It seemed to me like Jack's objective was to make me get used to having him around. Despite dating for half a year by now, and our relationship being serious, I am still a dark arall. And having people so close to me physically, especially when they're out of sight, makes me twitchy. Although less so with Jack.

Yes, I said, taking another sip out of the cup and leaving it on the table, pushing it to the middle. Sometimes things got a bit too rowdy in the mornings Jack stayed, and the crockery suffered. He is stubborn. I hoped he'd leave the house by now.

Jack snorted.

The Major? Leave free lodging and delicious food because of a cat?

It was supposed to be temporary, I complained. He wasn't supposed to stay for so long.

Dana, Jack said, don't be coy. The free food and board are good incentives, but the main reason he moved to Ashford from Ecton is you.

He had a point. The Major came from Ecton, Kalmar's capital city, where his career was on the rise (as far as I understand, that is), to investigate the death of his friend, in which I'd been involved as a witness.

He harassed me for a while because I was covering up the circumstances of his friends' death to hide my illegal Initiation. He also became my Master Mage, despite me already having a Master (grandpa). True, Grandpa is a light mage and I'm a dark one, and he can only teach me the most basic things, but it's not like I needed that many skills to get a mages' seal. I needed to be certified not dangerous to others to get the basic seal. And for the rest, I've got the university classes.

That's right, I'm apprenticed to two Master Mages, one dark, one light, the light one being my grandpa.

I successfully covered up my illegal Initiation by pretending I had my real magical Initiation a week earlier, and I only burned the alchemy lab because of a magical outburst (there was a bomb I had to get rid of, and I couldn't think of anything better than using magic I wasn't supposed to be able to use; I know, I know).

But then I still had to face a Magical Tribunal. They examined whether I should have my magic blocked, a terrible fate for any magician (people just fade out without their magic). But if they knew that I went through a spontaneous, illegal Initiation, that would automatically mean my magic would be blocked.

The Magical Tribunal decided, no doubt encouraged by Major Craen, that grandpa's insufficient knowledge on how to train a dark mage, with him being light and all that, caused my magical outburst. That's how I ended up with a second Master assigned, a highly unusual and bothersome situation.

And I live with both of them. Grandpa invited the Major to stay for some time, and now the Major seems to have made a home out of our home.

And having to study Practical and Applied Magic (that's the euphemism for dark magic they like to use nowadays), or PAAM, at university. That's in addition to the Alchemy degree I came to Ashford for. Having to double Major in those two subjects meant I had to study for an extra year (or cram all the extra credits into the time I had left), adding to the debt I had with the Floyd scholarship fund.

I didn't want to since my passion has always been Alchemy, but the attackers who put a bomb in that Alchemy lab didn't leave me a choice.

Thankfully, we caught all the important people in the sect. Or at least all the people in Ashford. From what I've heard, nobody outside Ashford has been arrested yet.

The swearing outside intensified. I think Stinker may have scratched the Major. What does he expect, getting close to a street cat?

Grandpa went out to convince the Major to stop shouting and come inside for breakfast. That must mean breakfast was ready. I shook off my stupor.

You're right, I told Jack. But it doesn't make it any less annoying. I didn't ask him for this.

I know you didn't, Jack said. But he thinks you should be eternally grateful to him. For taking you as his apprentice.

Yeah, I think if it were up to him, we would still have a medieval system of apprenticeship. Thankfully, we don't, and grandpa is on my side. The only time he gets to order me around is when he teaches. Which may be the reason he insists on teaching me so much. So he can torture me, I reflected glumly.

The Major made me go through punishing training sessions and trained me in creating shield magic by throwing tiny sparkling rays towards me (and, let me tell you, they stung).

I've moved quite a bit since the initial fireball generation, but there are still so many things I had to learn. And, hopefully, I would start today, at the introductory class of the summer semester.

But first, I would have to eat breakfast.

Let's go, I told Jack. Now that they've calmed down a bit, we need to make sure we go down before the Major eats everything and leaves us with all the veggies.

Breakfast was the usual fare: a bacon-veggie egg scramble (Bettie, the housekeeper, was trying to fool me into eating rabbit food) and toast for the Major, Jack, and me, and oatmeal for Grandpa and Uncle Billie.

Or Billie, as I called him, since I could never think of this child in a man's body as my uncle. His mind, destroyed by grandpa's enemies (and mine, too), was simple, although his body was as strong as an adult man's. This is why no nanny could handle him, and grandpa finally hired the retired police sergeant the Major recommended.

I remember how, at first, the Major was squeamish about Billie, his gaze always avoiding him. Dark mages hate weakness. And seeing what light magic did to Billie, knowing that a sufficiently powerful light mage could do that to him, too…

The Major avoided talking and looking at Billie for weeks, until one day, he witnessed Billie nervously breaking furniture around him in a fit of anxiety. I think the powerless rage he saw must have clicked with something inside him, because he became more understanding of him.

Basically, that meant he stopped avoiding him and started ignoring him.

That's quite a lot, considering the only thing dark arall hate more than a challenge to their authority is weakness.

The Major, who was reading the newspaper under Grandpa's disapproving gaze, started searching for coffee with his hand, too engrossed in whatever he was reading. Grandpa pushed the cup of coffee into his hand, and the Major took a sip out of it, placing it back onto the saucer.

Those two are becoming too cozy with each other. Like a married couple or something.

Which wasn't good for me, since the more they were on the same page, the more time they had to train me, with great gusto and passion, splitting among themselves every free hour I had during the day, instead of scheming against each other. Which made the dates with Jack almost impossible.

Sure, we compensated by having Jack stay with me on many nights, but it wasn't the same as a proper date.

After we finished the meal, everybody ran away, to their respective occupation. The Major, to his secret spy job, whatever he did there; Grandpa, to the university, where he taught; Jack, to the police station, where he worked, and Billie, to the nursery, to play with trains and have some lessons with his tutor (his mind was improving; he was able to learn things now, no longer forgetting everything he learned).

I kissed Jack on the way out, as the Major swore and pushed us aside, running out in haste.

There are advantages to living so close to university, I observed. Then I gave Jack another kiss.

I know you miss each other and everything, grandpa said, but may I remind you, Dana, that your class starts in ten minutes? You don't want to be late on your first day, wouldn't you? And you, Detective Taylor, have to go to work.

See? Those two geezers are conspiring to destroy all remnants of privacy and personal life I have left.

See you tomorrow, Jack said. I can't come today.

That's OK, I said, See you tomorrow.

And he left, going toward the police station, as I turned towards the PAAM College. It was time for another class in magic today.

2

Professor Alarch wasn't a battlemage.

I thought most dark mages were battlemages. I know, I know; somebody has to do all those safety spells we use in alchemy labs, right? But I kinda thought they use low-level mages for that.

And that the strongest dark mages are all battle mages. Professor Alarch was an artifactor, who produced different safety devices for banks and buildings.

But he fulfilled the stereotype of the battlemage to a t. He was broad-shouldered, tall, his black hair cut in a crew cut (do all the army guys go to the same barber?), and he walked with the confidence of a general.

I wondered what he was doing as a Professor. He could probably make more money in the private industry (I heard he owned a patent to a protective artifact that is used in most banks).

But meanwhile, he was walking among us, between the desks separated by a yard (for safety reasons). The acrid smoke of the cheaper gas burners and the lack of fresh air due to the absence of windows made his dark figure, surrounded in shadows, seem more menacing, especially when he leaned over somebody, covering their only source of light.

The room, filled with twenty students (that's the max for magical classes for safety reasons), had reinforced concrete walls three feet wide, and metallic doors that, if sealed, could prevent the flow of oxygen into the class (they take fire safety very seriously here).

I felt a bit suffocated, despite the ventilating system working fine (I checked; the vents are standard, and there's good air flow). Even the security of the alchemy buildings, infamous for being strict, wasn't comparable to what we had here.

Which made you wonder why all that security was needed.

Mr. Gwylan! Professor Alarch's booming voice shouted as the cane came hard on the table, with a thumping noise that would have startled me if I wasn't so used to it by now (five hours of him, and I'm getting the hang of it). Stop that right now!

Maybe Professor Alarch enjoyed torturing newbies.

As Sidney Gwylan, my guilty classmate, hurriedly dissolved the magic spell he was creating (I don't think he understood what he did wrong, the poor guy), Professor Alarch started explaining to all of us what poor Sidney did wrong.

It turns out poor Sidney almost blew all of us to smithereens.

Which wouldn't be such a rare thing, actually; one out of twenty mages die before they receive their seal.

Hence, the security precautions.

Alchemy was much less lethal.

Makes you question the intelligence of everybody in the room (except me, that is; I didn't volunteer for this). But then, their stupidity (or courage, as they like to call it), can be excused by their male chromosome.

I'm the only female in this class. In Professor Alarch's opinion, that meant I shouldn't be here at all.

Whatever. I'm not one to obey authority.

Besides, it's not like I have a choice. If I could undo my Initiation, I wouldn't be here in the first place.

So I returned to the task at hand, creating a protective artifact by making the silver-mercury amalgam pattern drawn on the piece of rock in front of me absorb the magical spell I was creating. Which was going better than it was for poor Sidney (I wasn't exploding anything), but not that much better.

My visualization skills were good, as I could see down to the smallest thread of magic (after lots of training with grandpa, that is; the last few months hadn't gone in vain).

But the fact that I could see the magic didn't mean I could use it.

Or control it. Anything more complex than pumping a shitload of magic into some simple form (a shield, a fireball, or a ray of magic) was beyond my capabilities.

And this exercise was about making something more sophisticated than a fireball. Of course, the preparations that were done before, where I drew the amalgam on the rock, helped.

The shape of the image itself, and the ratio of silver to mercury, if done well, help with the creation of the artifact. And that first part was the easiest for me: as an alchemist, I'd prepared hundreds of such blanks for dark mages. This is why when Professor Alarch examined mine, he grunted, saying nothing (I think that's high praise coming from him; he lambasted every other student).

But the second part, where actual magic was involved… Well, it wasn't going very well. Thankfully, it wasn't going very well for my classmates, either.

Bedwen! I heard the Professors' yell in my ear. I immediately dissolved what I was doing, standing up to face him.

One trick when talking to a dark mage: never let them have any advantage you can deny them. Including the advantage of being physically above a person.

Yes, sir? I asked, at the same eye level as he was.

Who is your Master? he asked, holding my gaze, his body language confrontational. Leaning in, his face barely inches away from mine, his hands in front of his chest, his feet separated; a fighting stance.

Major Craen, sir, I said, careful not to be too confrontational, but yielding no physical ground. He was more senior than I was, after all. Mervin Craen. And Professor David Bedwen.

I've heard you have a light mage as a Master, Professor Alarch said, but you have another Master, too? That is highly unusual.

Yes, sir, I replied. The Magical Tribunal decided it would be for the best, sir.

So you already got in trouble, eh? he asked, with a smirk. That's about what I'd expect from a woman.

With respect.

No, actually, I feel no respect at all.

Sir, I'm your student. Not a woman. Just a mage.

You look like a woman to me, he said, staring at my breasts in a way that would get anybody but a senior dark mage slapped. I breathed, centering myself.

There are limits to what I'm willing to tolerate.

Would you like to test it, sir? I asked. By the end of the year, say — at the arena?

That's right, I'm challenging a Professor to a duel.

Why at the end of the year? he asked.

Because I still need to learn how to kick your ass, sir. Respectfully, I said, and heard a bunch of snickers around me.

Professor Alarch looked around, and the snickers quieted. Although I could see everybody was paying attention.

That's right, Miss Bedwen. You still need to learn, and it's good that you remember it. As for the duel — come back at me when you have a mages' seal. I don't accept challenges from apprentices.

Well, at least he called me Miss.

I'll remember that, sir, I said. It wasn't a threat. I just told him I wouldn't tolerate such treatment. And then I gave him an out, a chance to retreat gracefully (it's never a good idea to corner somebody stronger than you). Could you tell me what I was doing wrong, sir?

Ah, yes, Miss Bedwen, he said, his body language no longer menacing, his eyes firmly at my eye level. He took the out. You were making the loop on the left, he pointed at the blackboard where he'd drawn the design we were supposed to use, too big.

Thank you, sir, I said, sitting into the chair, not looking at him anymore.

He left, going to harass another student.

By the end of the class, I hadn't been able to do anything. Thankfully, none of my classmates were, either. Professor Alarch looked around the class and sighed.

I've never seen such a talentless bunch of newbies, he said.

I'm sure he says that to every class he gets.

Take your blanks home and practice the magic with your Master. Bring them by next week. Just remember; don't do this alone, he said, looking around.

And he left, leaving us in the class. My classmates circled around, to share opinions and gossip.

Easy for him to say, Sidney said. Practice with the Master. I only ever see my Master once per month.

Me, too, the guy next to me said. Most Masters don't like teaching too much.

There were many groans in the class, all in the same vein.

And what about you, Dana? Sidney asked. I've heard you have two Masters — do you get more attention?

Everybody else stared at me with curiosity.

I was on delicate ground here. I'm the only woman here, an alchemist, and an apprentice with two Masters. I was already too much of an outsider. The rest of the students had been politely ignoring me as is.

Having two Masters just means each of them thinks the other should do the work, I said, so I see them half of what you guys see yours.

Yes, I lied unashamedly. So what? I'm a dark arall. I'm not one of those light weirdos that have scruples about lying. Lying is good. Lying greases the wheels of social interactions and prevents the use of fists. Isn't it better to lie than to have to punch a guy for being too obnoxious?

Yeah, that would be typical, Sidney said, with a bright smile. You're alright for a girl. Do you want to come for a beer?

I considered it. I was supposed to have a class with Grandpa tonight, another Control and Visualization training.

But the geezers had already encroached on my life enough. Hell, even the dates with Jack happened under their control.

I had to rebel. Besides, I needed to meet dark mages. I couldn't afford to be an outsider.

Dark mages have no friends, but they sure as hell have outcasts.

Sure, I said, a beer sounds great.

I left a note for Grandpa in his university office, so he'd know I was going out tonight. I knew there would be hell to pay later, but whatever.

I needed to let my hair down. The last time I'd gone for drinks had been three months ago when I got attacked after having drinks in the pub with my friend Joe.

And killed a guy in self-defense. Although his body was never found.

I sometimes think I hallucinated the whole incident, but the blood on my knife was too real. The police still haven't returned me the knives, the cheap bastards. The knives will be in evidence limbo for eternity.

Pity. They were good knives.

But I had new ones. One in my belt, like the previous one, and another in my boot. Plus a new pair of steel-reinforced gloves (these, unlike the ones the police kept, with studs).

A girl needs to be prepared.

---

I had to be careful with the guys.

Female and male dark arall don't mix. I remember, as a child in Caerland, the boys, stronger and bigger, would pick on us. But then we girls learned to gang up on the boys, whereas the dark boys never had the ability.

Dark females are more convivial than dark males. I've got no idea how the men manage to work in groups in the army but let me tell you; dark boys are absolutely unable to yield to a peer leader even if their lives depend on it.

I guess they get wiser with time. Girls learn to band to fight common enemies very early, and just stop picking fights with each other. When you are weaker than other magicals and you know they'll gang up on you if you get too obnoxious using your strength frequently, you learn how to deal with issues by escalating in different ways.

But, after I left Caerland, and started studying at University, other dark arall disappeared from my life. They left me alone, and I ignored them, making my life among the ordinary people (if we can call alchemists ordinary, that is).

The mages mostly kept to themselves, and in any case, dark magical men had learned their lesson by adulthood: don't pick on girls, or they'll gang up on you and humiliate you.

But now, I couldn't ignore them anymore. I couldn't let them ignore me either. I had to make a place for myself in magical society.

3

When I joined them in the pub, I was surprised by how decent the place was.

The Black Bull Inn was one of those places in Ashford I avoided because it was known for being a place where dark arall met. And, since I wasn't interested in pissing contests, I'd been avoiding my fellow magical people, and never stepped foot there.

My fellow alchemists also avoided this place. Most people don't want their drunken slurs to get them in fights, and dark magicals are known for being sensitive. And loving a fight.

I expected this to be a run-down place with broken furniture and dirty, small windows. But it was way nicer than that.

The furniture here was solid; the tables were made with two-inch thick oak boards, and the chairs were simple and solid in their construction, with no upholstering. The big windows were segmented, and I could see they were made of the more expensive and less fragile alchemical glass (it has a special glint I can notice).

Everything here seemed to be made more durable than any ordinary pub. And I could notice the faint, acrid smell of fire retardant, evaporated because of the evening heat. Of course, the only reason I can smell it is that I'm very good at identifying substances by smell.

I saw them sitting around a big table, all nineteen of my classmates.

I nodded at them, ordered myself a pint of what looked like decent ale, and headed towards them while going around the smaller tables.

I had to be very delicate here; the pub was full of dark mages.

Why did they come and socialize with each other? Most of our kind are insufferable pricks. Why would they want to spend time with people like that? I guess it's one of those things about men I don't understand.

When I reached the table, I placed the beer tankard of the table and sat on the chair they left for me, between Sidney and a guy named Axton.

Hi Sid, Ax, I said, taking off my fedora (a hat is very useful both in winter and summer when you spend your days walking outside) and placing it on the table. What's up?

Hi Dana, Sid said, slapping me on the shoulder. We were wondering if you'd come. We've never seen you around here. I thought you avoided this place.

Right. They did notice I'd been avoiding dark arall.

I just had my own group, that's all, I said. I'm studying alchemy, and I wasn't planning on going through Initiation until recently.

"Yeah, we've heard of you. The only dark arall in the Alchemy Department. It's said the ninnies from the yard have been trying to kick you out," he said, with something that sounded like glee.

At me being almost kicked out, or at the failure of the yard, I'm not entirely sure. Maybe it's both.

The yard, or IAIRD, the Interpersonal and Intercultural Relations Department, is the light magic department. Of course, nobody can pronounce IAIRD, so it gets pronounced as 'yard'.

Yeah, I said, taking a sip of the tankard. Especially Professor Derwen. He spent my entire first year trying to provoke me into fights. It was really hard to keep myself from punching that guy, but I managed. I just reported him for harassment several times.

Of course, I and Professor Derwen made peace this year, but that is information I better not share. Having a light mage as my Master is bad enough. If they think that I have too many light acquaintances, they pounce on me.

Well, anything that keeps the yard unhappy is good, Ax said, slapping my back so strongly it would create a bruise.

I couldn't leave it like that, so I also slapped him, pretending to stay friendly.

Anytime, I said. Can't let those flower boys win.

That's another term to insult light mages.

Isn't you Master a flower boy? Sid asked. I sensed that there was an attack there, that they were trying to say something.

He's also my grandfather, I said, putting the beer aside, balancing on my feet, ready to stand and fight. So careful there.

Apparently, they hadn't heard that information. We had a big party that introduced me to most of Grandpa's social circle, just a week ago (it even appeared in the society pages of some national newspapers). But then, mages are too insular. And it's strange to imagine a dark arall (especially a male one) that reads the society pages.

How come? Steve Bustach, who was sitting in front of me, asked. He changed the angle he was sitting at, mirroring my pose. All of them did.

My mother was born without magic, I said, ready to punch anybody who insulted me, and then she married my father and run away to Caerland. I grew up there, and just met my grandpa this year, when he moved to Ashford from Ecton.

They stared at me intently, absorbing this new information.

You don't look at all like him, Sid said. I've seen Professor Bedwen. There's no similarity between you.

I get that a lot, I said. What can I say? I'm more similar to my father, who's Yllamese. It's probably hard to see the similarity because I'm biracial.

Yeah, I'm darker-skinned than most Kalmari, and my facial features are different in subtle ways. But it all gets overshadowed by the me being dark arall, with the characteristic black, uniformly colored hair, and dark, almost black eyes.

Magical polarity trumps race.

So a prominent light mage's daughter run off with a darkie? An immigrant one? Why haven't I heard this story? Ax asked.

I stared at him. My father wasn't a darkie; he was an ordinary person from Yllam. But did I want to raise this?

It seemed like they had their story, a story that would allow them to enjoy some schadenfreude at my Grandpa's expense. And with no awkward questions being raised, like how come I was born dark if my father isn't (I've got no idea; my brothers are all light arall, like Grandpa). So I did what I always did when it's convenient: I smiled and I lied.

Because everybody thought my mother was dead, I replied, relaxing my stance and taking a sip of the strong, hoppy beer. Since they were all mirroring me, they also relaxed, also drinking from their tankards. Dark arall read body language and mirror it almost instinctively, so being aware of it makes you control the situation. Remember, there was a famous train robbery twenty-five years ago? Well, everybody thought my mother died then. But she survived, and lived in Caerland, without bothering the authorities.

That seemed to explain things to them.

So, is it true? That they don't check your documentation in Caerland, Sid asked.

Nah, that's a myth. They do. And if you committed a crime, they'll kick you out. But other than that, the feds don't know who lives there. It's not their business. That's why mother was left alone. She committed no crimes, I explained. Then I looked around. Is there nobody else who's from Caerland here?

Everybody around the table shook their head.

No, there are a few guys from Caerland in our department, Sid said, but they got Initiated earlier. We're the last bunch to go through Initiation in our class year.

I nodded. Initiations were staggered for magicals. With practical classes with a max cap of twenty students, you couldn't have the entire intake Initiated at once. So they staggered them across the four years, teaching theory to those who weren't yet Initiated. Usually, those left for last, for the end of the fourth year, were the weakest of the intake, and I was now one of them. Which is part of the reason Professor Alarch is so frustrated with us. That and his general assholiness, that is.

Weak dark arall stay in Caerland. There's no good reason to go study and get a huge debt to then earn much less than the stronger dark mages can.

They usually don't even bother with the whole Initiation thing, just living their life without using magic. There's little point in studying magic when you're weak.

Finding out I was weak at puberty (when the magic expresses itself) was one of the reasons I pursued Alchemy, a