Arcanist In Another World-Chapter 79: Master

Valens halted with one hand about to knock on the entrance. He wanted to learn and ask every question that came to mind, to seek knowledge about the arcane and how the Magi of this world approached magic, to understand the intricacies of the System and the secrets behind the spells, and to pry into their world with an open mind.

He just wasn’t sure if he should keep to himself while doing it. Even in the Empire, a Resonant Healer’s approach to magic differed from that of the common Magi. Mastery over the songs of the world granted him the ability to hear and manipulate the frequencies while common Mages had to rely on spell formulae and conductive tools to even begin spellcasting.

Once he got a clear idea of the spell he was working with, Valens could just bend the frequencies to fit that particular formula to conjure the effect in the outside world. It wasn’t as fast as the spells the System registered as skills, and it demanded a clear understanding of the spell, but laboring over the preparation and handling all the complications that could arise from human error wasn’t something he had to deal with.

In this world, however, the System acted as a register, an outer mind that could hold the spell formulae and present them in pristine clarity should the Mage ever seek them in his mind. In a way, this saving function handled the preparation phase for the Mage, but that didn’t change the fact that to make a Skill out of a Spell, a Mage had to first learn how to do it from scratch.

I’ll keep my cards close to my chest for a start, then.

Taking a breath, Valens reached and knocked on the door. Faint pulses of mana wavered across the entrance. Gears shifted unseen to the naked eye, grinding and rattling as the golden star carved atop the door’s surface shed its golden lights with each pulse. It wasn’t long before the entrance went completely dark, looking like a simple slab of stone save for the pocket grown outward from the middle of the star, which took the shape of a hand.

Interesting. So not anyone can enter the Tower without first proving they’re a Mage, is it?

Valens placed his hand on that part, face perfectly still, and released a wave of mana inside the stone as he was demanded.

The door groaned loudly open, revealing the antechamber inside busy with warm lights. Fixed on the walls were antique chandeliers each fitted with bead-like manastones, casting long, dancing shadows upon the marbled ground, inviting alluringly the visitors to a cozy stroll across the entrance.

Valens obliged, taking a step in. The door closed gently after him even as a wave of mana settled around his shoulders. Not ambient mana, no, this was mana distilled and released from a number of manastones hidden inside the walls, pouring from the little holes about the walls like tiny fountains made just for the Magi to welcome them to the Guild.

With a flick of his fingers, Valens could use this mana at his will. Command it with such ease that it wouldn’t take a single second, but it wasn’t the sudden welcoming of this invisible shroud that got to him.

No, it was something else.

It reminded him of home.

That was where he left his past. His Master and his old study, lingering in the air the same smell that welcomed him in the Magi Guild. The marbled ground, and the lights across the walls, the invisible shroud of precious source ever-present in the air, waiting, almost beckoning him to be used. His friends that he left in the Empire, numerous of them with their faces bleak in his memory.

Just around the corner there would be the statues of the old Resonant Healers waiting for him. Masters of a time long past, Master Eldras used to say, their legacies buried under the ground. If Valens let him speak, he would go on with one of his usual speeches about the dawn of their day. He would tell him about the feats the Ancient Magi shouldered back in the day. He would speak of the changes they brought to the world, be it good or bad.

But as Valens strolled around this painfully familiar hall, the nostalgia slowly tore itself out of his thoughts, replaced by a distant hum of sorrow lingering in the depths of his mind.

There was a man sat behind a mighty desk a few paces ahead, already scrutinizing his face as if he labored to put a name on him.

Valens forced a smile upon his lips as he walked over to the desk.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the man said. He wore his moustache rich and long over his lips. He was dressed in a fancy suit whose sleeve buttons caught the chandelier lights. He wasn’t old, but the facial hair and the way he carried himself made him appear older than his middle age.

“I’ve just set foot in Belgrave, and have decided to pay a visit to the Magi Guild,” Valens said. “I’m afraid I’m not aware of the protocols of the guild, but I wish to be a part of it.”

“A part of it, you say?” The man rose from his chair, taking another look at Valens as if he saw a new item to appraise. His face soured quite quickly when his eyes latched onto the poor fabric of Valens’s suit, then down at his trousers and shoes. He didn’t look half as convinced about Valens’s appearance when he poured himself back over the chair.

“Why?”

Valens raised his chin. He got the tone of the place now. He understood it well enough to adjust his approach. “Why? Do you ask me the reasons of my arrival, Sir, as a fellow member of the arcane? Or do you suppose there has to be another reason for fellow Magi like us than the sheer face of this Tower to venture inside its depths? Isn’t that face an invitation to a sanctuary in this city of thousands for the disciples of arcane? If not, then I have to admit I’d be terribly disappointed for keeping my hopes up.”

The man squirmed over his chair and turned, giving another look at Valens. “So you wish to become a member of the Guild?” he boomed, his voice louder this time. “Then I must warn you that not everyone can join the distinguished circle of Resni’s Guild by the simple virtue of their classes. If it’s knowledge you seek and the wisdom of our esteemed members, then knowledge you shall provide of your skills and abilities for us to even begin considering adding you to the waiting list.”

There was a certain way to his speech, a sharp tone that jabbed at Valens’s face. It was as though this man who mantled the duty of acting the doorman of the Tower had already seen what Valens had to offer, evaluated him in his mind, and didn’t like even a bit of it before he passed judgment, which was, as it appeared, that Valens wasn’t worthy of becoming a part of their club.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Waiting list?” Valens arched an eyebrow, acting the clueless rather than asking the obvious. He knew better than to try to convince people with his words when he could simply show them his skills.

This waiting list, though, was something he hadn’t expected.

I don’t want to wait in a line. That’s absurd.

“Indeed,” the man nodded proudly. “We have a long evaluation process to make sure each member qualifies for our strict conditions.” He eyed him with one biting glance. “Or what, did you suppose we’re one of those barbaric Guilds arranging raids and treasure hunts out in the Broken Lands in search of adding value behind our name by the despicable act of hoarding coin and killing with mindless discrimination? That we’re senseless brutes gathered for the singular purpose of gaining might while ignoring the rich mysteries of the arcane in its endless depths?”

“This evaluation…” Valens stifled a sigh as he continued, “I presume it’s a matter of displaying one’s skills, isn’t it?”

“Precisely!” The man wore a haughty grin on his face, chest swelling as he nodded. “We don’t put weight in one’s level or the class, as those are trifling qualifications for a man who treads the depths of the arcane. We do, however, pay attention to one’s skills, and more importantly, one’s mastery over the spells. We have members from all the Five Schools of Magical Thought in our ranks, and not counting the promising talents of the young generation, all of our members have at least an Adept mastery over one of their spells!”

An Adept mastery over one of their spells? And he looks so proud when he says it. Is it that big of a matter to have an Adept skill? If so, then that makes me…

Of all the 10 skills he registered to the System, he was a Master at more than half of them. He did have an Adept skill, namely the Inferno, but that was because he hadn’t had the time to go over his spells during the mad journey he’d experienced in his month.

I have some clues I can work on when it comes to that. It shouldn’t take too long for me to become a Master of Inferno as well.

“I suggest you take refuge in one of the simple Guilds in the capital lest you want your dreams crushed by reality,” the man continued, scarcely aware of Valens’s thoughts and identity. “They should welcome a young, uneducated man like you with open arms. You can make a name for yourself with their aid, even grow to be Proficient in some of your skills if you can survive the Broken Lands. But if I were you, I would leave the study of intricate spellwork and its mysteries to the bright geniuses… of the Haven’s Reach.”

What was that stop? You paused there. You were going to say bright geniuses ‘like me’, right? But why is there a pompous doorman in this guild? He didn’t even ask me to see my Class or do anything. He just assumed I’m an ignorant fool bothering him as if he has more important matters to attend.

Taking a look at the antechamber of the tower, Valens wasn’t sure what other matters there could be for a doorman dressed in a fancy suit. He couldn’t see his Class or Level thanks to the golden ring he wore, but something told him that the man was more adept at the art of words than the practice of pure magic.

“Then I—”

Valens was about to show him a little trick to skip this waiting list when the doors of the Tower opened loudly, and a man walked in.

Now, that is a Magus.

He wore a long-sleeved robe with its tails swept round the floor behind him, adorned with intricately laced rims that shone a golden hue much similar to that of the star Valens saw atop the entrance. He carried himself with grace and confidence, and a touch of arrogance fitting of his age, but nothing in his face could’ve announced his presence more than the long cane he clasped in his right hand.

Is that a staff?

It thumped at each step of the Magus, and as he neared the table of the doorman, he gave a curious look over Valens in the way a zookeeper might give a new animal that had been brought in his absence.

“Master Archibald,” the doorman sprang to his feet, and shooting an urging glance to Valens, bowed his head vehemently. “W-We didn’t expect you to—”

“There was a sign,” Master Archibald said in a rasping voice. He stifled a cough before he continued on, “The stars have whispered the promise of a fateful meeting in the late afternoon today, and I have come to see to it.”

Oh? I didn’t like the sound of that cough.

“Oh, then pray tell the details. I shall help you to the best of my ability,” the doorman bowed further, his eyes spitting venom at Valens as if the simple act of keeping his head high against this Master was an unforgivable sin.

“The details were murky. That’s why I mentioned the word ‘fateful,’ since the divination was awfully unclear this time,” Master Archibald said, face grimacing as he labored another breath that rattled the cage of his chest. “This bloody cough… Those Priests are no good, all of them busy spreading their god’s word rather than doing what’s right of them. I’m afraid I have to venture off into the Caligian lands to get this body checked by those Healers.”

He wiped his mouth with a kerchief he pulled from his robe, then turned and glanced at the doorman. “But do tell me, Sebastian, were there any new guests to our Guild today? Other than this… young man?”

Sebastian’s eyes strayed to Valens, paused on him in consideration. Then, after what seemed like a small quarrel of thoughts that happened inside his mind, he seemed to have refused the possibility that the strange meeting might have to do with this ignorant, poor Mage that barged into the Tower, and settled for a quick shake of his head.

“I’m afraid there hasn’t been such a visit, Master Archibald. And this young man isn’t someone worthy of your attention. If I may add, however, Adept Merrick has arrived early in the morning. Perhaps that meeting has to do with—”

“Merrick?” Master Archibald frowned. “You think a mere Adept like Merrick would deserve my presence on a mere weekday? I have more important matters to attend than that of a budding Mage who thinks too highly of himself.”

“Ah,” Sebastian stooped under green eyes that bore down on him. “My apologies, Master Archibald. Surely the—”

“If there hasn’t been anyone else, then I shall wait in the Chamber of Masters. It’s often the case with divinations that certain delays might occur. Divining the exact moment… can be tricky.”

“Why, of course, Master!” Sebastian said, rubbing his hands with a sly grin on his face. “Before you go, however, is there anything you can tell me about the person you’re expecting? A gentleman, or a lady? What of the age of this person? Anything, as I’ve said, so as not to bother you without first making sure it is the right person.”

“No details,” Master Archibald said sourly. “I couldn’t see anything. Just for a fact I know there will come a man or a woman through that door, and he or she wouldn’t be of an ordinary origin. When that happens, send them to the Chamber of Masters. I will be waiting there.”

“An extraordinary person, then,” Sebastian nodded. “Understood, Master Archibald. I will personally see to it.”

“Good,” Master Archibald said. He was about to walk off from the lane by the table, toward the spiraling staircase barely visible from where Valens stood, too sure of himself that Valens couldn’t even be in the same conversation with the person he saw through his divinations.

Am I that… unremarkable? Like another face in the crowd, not worthy of a second glance from this so-called Master?

That left a bitter taste in Valens’s mouth, and it got worse still when he swallowed it. As he did that, Master Archibald had already gone halfway through the hall.

“Off with you,” the doorman wiped the fawning expression off his face now that the Master was gone. “We have important members to attend. Master Archibald is one of our esteemed Masters who oversees the evaluation of the new members. I can add you to the waiting list, but don’t bring your hopes up. You won’t get in.“

“Oversees the new members, you’ve said?” Valens said, which promptly shut Sebastian and earned him a surprised glance from the man. “Isn’t that a coincidence? Might as well skip the whole thing, eh?”

“What—”

“Master Archibald!” Valens called out to the Master as Sebastian flinched back from him like a scared mouse. The old man, instead, paused and gave him a look over the shoulder. “What do you say we take a look at that pair of useless lungs? And while at it, we can talk about my initiation to the Magi Guild, eh?”

The old man squinted his eyes at him. Sebastian, at the side, looked horrified. Valens, though, walked past the doorman and neared the old Master. He offered a slight bow to the man. “After all, it’d be a shame to let fate knock and have no one clever enough to open the door, right?”

......