Fallen Mage Regressor

An orange bob of hair entered through the door. Her scarf, the same color, trailed behind her, kicked up by an invisible breeze.

She stopped and whispered under her breath.

"Eternus protect and guide me in this coming deal," she murmured.

Mal stood up. And the chair scooted with a loud screech underneath him.

She turned and looked at him, and her eyes widened in recognition.

"Wait a minute, I've seen you before!" She stepped back toward the door. "What are you doing here?!”

Mal did his best not to make any sudden moves. Hemp reached out toward her hip, where a single knife lay sheathed and attached to her belt.

"Tell me where I've seen you before, or I'll cut you like a pig!"

The fence looked back and forth between Mal and Hemp. "If you're going to come to blows, I'd prefer you do so outside of my shop. This place has a reputation to maintain."

"There'll be no fighting today," Mal said.

Hemp's fingers wrapped around her knife. "Damned straight. Because you're going to tell me everything that I want to know—" Her eyes widened. "I didn't swear. I didn't say damn. Crap, I did it again. I mean—look, the point is that you need to tell me what's going on, or I'm going to stab you!"

Mal held back the urge to chuckle. She'd been much the same way in the first timeline. She was capable of intense violence, but profanity was somehow beyond the pale for her.

She always did tell me that the best way to sell a lie is to mix in a little bit of the truth, he thought. I guess there's nothing for it, then.

"It's pretty simple," he said. "You stole something from me. A book."

She hissed and unsheathed her knife. The blade pointed at Mal, a scant few feet away from him and his vital organs.

"What, you want it back?" she said. "Sorry, but I'm not letting it go without a fight!"

"I think you're very mistaken," Mal kept his tone as level as he could. "I'm not here to take it back—well, it would be nice if you did give it back to me, but I'm actually here for a very different reason."

"What kind of reason?" she snorted. "This had better be good."

"It's all quite simple, really," Mal said. "I've been looking to hire somebody. An expert in the art of liberating my opponents of what belongs to them."

I need a guarantee, Mal thought. Some way for her to think that she has leverage over me, and an excuse for the two of us to continue seeing each other.

"How about this?" Mal said. "You still have the book. If I really need the book that badly, then your life is guaranteed as long as it's still in your possession. In the meantime, you can work with me and I'll pay you a fair wage."

Her eyes widened at the mention of money.

Jackpot.

"I do kind of already have you at a disadvantage, don't I?" she said.

She brought her knife down and stroked her chin with her other hand. Her eyes went back and forth as she seemed to mull the thing over in her head. Finally, she slipped the knife back into her sheath.

"Very well then."

She grinned.

"How about you tell me a little bit more about this job?"

Before they'd been allowed to begin their business, the fence had coughed and politely asked that he and Hemp exchange their goods. Mal didn't think it was a good idea to start a fight over nothing, so he sat back down and waited for them to get done.

It was amazing how much jewelry Hemp was able to store in her clothes. She'd kept on reaching into her pockets and pulling out more and more jewelry. A few weapons, even one wand. Granted, wands weren't really in vogue anymore and it looked pretty crappy, but the fact that she'd gotten one over on a wizard—and presumably a fully mature wizard, since they were the only ones who used wands anymore—was incredibly impressive.

The whole time this had been happening, Mal had been working on the perfect job for her.

See, he hadn't been lying. He did actually need an expert in infiltration and information gathering. There was an individual who had a spell that Mal wanted to get his hands on. He wouldn't be able to use it for himself, but Philo would most likely get a lot of mileage out of it.

On top of that, this person most likely had information related to Lusia's condition.

“So, fancy pants, what can I do for you?”

She pulled up a chair and sat down in it with a bit of a fancy flourish. She leaned back into it and brought one foot onto the edge, her spine bent forward like some sort of lazy alley cat.

“There's a member of the church,” Mal said. “A scholar. He's been working on a spell. One that could turn the user into a living weapon.”

At the mention of the church, she hissed. “Bunch of thieving scum-sucking maggots. I'd do the job for free if you weren't offering to pay.”

“Oh, is that so—?”

“You're still paying me.”

Mal resisted the urge to chuckle.

“What kind of spell is it?” she asked. “And how exactly will I know what to steal?”

“When we get to that part, you're probably gonna have to bring me along. For now, I just want you to gather information about him. Find out where he goes. Who he meets with. Every little detail about his personal life—then report it all to me.”

She hummed. “Sounds easy enough.”

“It is, and I promise I'll pay you fairly—”

“Wait, but who is it?” she asked.

“A man by the name of Theologue Cornelias.”

Her entire body tensed like a coiled spring.

“Cornelias?” Her eyes locked onto him, pointed like daggers at his head. “You're absolutely certain?”

Mal gave a slow nod. “Yes. I'm certain.”

She looked away and stared at the wall. Her leg bounced against the floor in a few rapid motions before it came to a stop.

“Fine.” She looked back at him. “But I want a down payment.”

In the back, the fence chuckled. “You give her a down payment, and you're never going to see the girl again—”

Mal flipped her a single gold coin. She snatched it out of the air, then ran her thumb across the surface.

The fence raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and returned his attention to the items Hemp had given him.

She very slowly and very deliberately tucked the coin into a small pocket on the inside of her pants. There was an unidentifiable look on her face. She stood up and walked over to the door.

“I'll think about it,” she said.

She stepped out and the door shut behind her.

The fence chortled.

“Like I said, boy, you'll never see her again. Especially now that you've gone and given her the full payment before she's even done a thing!”

Mal looked at the door, then stood up and brushed himself off. “I think you'll find that everything is working entirely according to my design.”

Mal was speedrunning things by quite a bit of time. They weren't supposed to work together for several years. But Mal believed that if he did things right this time—if he treated her the way that she had wanted, if he became a friend—then he would secure her loyalty forever.

It's all for the greater good, he thought. She'll thank me when it's all over.

A small part of him wondered why he cared whether she'd thank him or not. He shook his head and pushed away all of the confusing emotions that this encounter had boiled up inside of him.

By the time Mal made it back to the campus, it had long since turned night. The keepers of the wall gave him a funny look as he came in, but nodded when he gave his identity. They'd also forced him to show his key card, but that had been the end of it.

He stumbled back into his room, then slept like a log.

When he stepped outside and into the common room, he tripped over a chair and nearly hit his nose on the floor. A bucket of paint rattled from the impact.

“Oh, ape. You're finally awake.”

Mal bent his head over in the direction of the noise. Philo was seated atop a chair in the corner of the room, surrounded by two more buckets of paint.

“Philo was going to go for his run, but he realized that he would be needed here.”

“What's all this racket?” Rolam stepped into the common room and yawned. “There's nothing honorable about waking up your allies in the middle of the night.”

Philo scoffed. “It's already morning, elf.”

Rolam turned and glared at Philo. “I don't care what you freaks of nature say, anytime before sunrise is still night.”

Nima poked his head out of his door. “What's happening?” he said. “Are we going to do something?”

Mal stepped over to the window and tried to peer through it. Unfortunately, there was far too much garbage and gunk for him to actually see anything. Nonetheless, he could still tell based off of the complete lack of ambient light, that they probably had plenty of time before classes today.

He turned back around.

“We're going to at least get this place cleared out and walkable,” Mal said. “After that, it's time we then get started on that training stuff we talked about in the clinic.”

"Wait, we're actually going to do that?" Rolam said. "I thought we were just saying things and then we weren't going to follow through."

Philo gave Rolam an odd look. “Philo doesn't understand elf logic.”

Rolam groaned and ran his hands down his face. "I suppose the honorable thing to do would be to do as I've already committed."

Mal clapped his hands and the two went quiet.

"As I said," Mal said, "let's start by making it so we can at least walk around."

Once they'd finished, they headed out to a spot behind the dormitory.

"We're going to be working in pairs," Mal said. "We'll switch between partners as I deem necessary. Is that understood?"

Rolam put his hands on his hips. "I assume that I'll be partnered with you, Malfrasius—"

"Wrong, you're partnered with Philo."

Both of their faces dropped like stones in a river.

Philo pointed at Rolam. "With him? The elf?"

Rolam's mouth opened and shut a few times. "How exactly is this supposed to help?"

"Philo knows magic and magical theory in and out," Mal said, "which is exactly what you need, given your horrendous spellcasting ability."

"And what exactly is Philo supposed to gain from this arrangement?" Philo asked.

"You're going to spar in between study sessions. He's going to try to kick your teeth in, and you're going to be forced not to hesitate during combat."

They opened their mouths to respond, and Mal shook his head and cut them off.

"You want to get better? This is what it'll take. I would rather you learn these essential skills here rather than dying in the middle of a battlefield. Last night proved it—the life of a wizard is dangerous. There's no time for petty grudges or wasting time."

The field went silent.

Rolam twisted his head toward Philo. "I suppose we have no choice."

"Indeed. Let's get this over with."

The two then started arguing in lower tones about who would go first in the teaching role. Philo wanted to start with spell theory, Rolam wanted to start with sparring.

Mal had already invested enough energy dealing with those two, so he ignored them.

"Mal, am I to assume that we're to be partnered?" Nima asked.

Mal turned to face him and paused.

Unlike Philo and Rolam, there were no obvious issues that needed to be addressed. Nima was generally weak across the board except for his illusion magic.

"Yes," Mal said. "And I'm hoping that you can teach me a little bit of your illusion magic techniques."

Nima sucked in a breath and glanced off to the side.

"Unfortunately, my talent is hereditary. I'm afraid it's not something that's really teachable."

Hereditary magic. It was rare, but it did happen. Mal had been under the assumption that Nima simply had a talent for the subject—he had no idea that it was hereditary instead.

"I can see why you don't spread it around," Mal said.

Nima chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. "Many have a stigma against it—it's a little bit too mystical for their taste, and it goes against a lot of the fundamental assumptions behind wizardry. The idea of magic that can't be learned or studied, but is instead passed down from generation to generation? It smacks of witchcraft."

Mal had learned enough witchcraft to know that this was baloney, but the average wizard, of course, didn't have that kind of knowledge.

"Very well," Mal said. "For now, let's just go ahead and go over some spell theory."

The next hour passed by quickly.

This was a lie. It passed by exceptionally slowly. Every single time that Mal and Nima made some progress in reviewing their notes, Philo would go flying into the air from a particularly strong kick to the jaw and land directly in between the two of them. Either that, or Rolam would screech at the top of his lungs about how unclear Philo's instructions were.

It wasn't particularly conducive toward learning, Mal had to admit. Eventually, he clapped his hands and call for a break—much to the relief of Nima, who let out a sigh as soon as Mal said so.

So now, Mal was leaning against the exterior wall of the dormitory and breathing deeply, trying to calm down.

"Master."

Mal's eyes snapped open. Lusia was holding out a towel in front of his face. He took it from her and rubbed it across his cheeks. The sweat absorbed into the towel and he let out a sigh from the pleasant sensation.

"Thanks for that." He handed the towel back to her. "You're a little bit early today."

"I'm a little bit late, in fact. I had been intending to arrive earlier, but duties with the other maids prevented me from arriving."

"You know that you don't have to show up for these."

"I do. My role is to support you whenever and wherever possible. If you're choosing to push yourself in this manner, then I must be there to support you every step of the way."

She discussed this with a dry, flat tone and all the emotion of a blade of grass. If Mal didn't know any better, he would assume that she was talking about lawn care or something equally exciting.

"Thank you, Lusia. Your loyalty is appreciated," he said.

I'm going to fix her core, he reminded himself. I still don't know why she wants magic—but I don't particularly care. If she wants to be a wizard, then she'll be a wizard. If a dark lord couldn't even do that much, then what was the point?

He chuckled to himself. Not that he was much of a dark lord anymore.

"Master? I don't believe I said anything that could be construed to be humorous. Clarify."

"Nothing, Lusia. Just an internal thought. Don't pay it any mind."

The sun's rays peaked down over the wall and hit his forehead. They'd been training for longer than he thought.

He stood to his feet. "Before we get back to it, I wanted to talk with everyone."

The group all stopped what they were doing and glanced over to him.

"Philo." He turned his gaze on the subject of his speech. "You're not doing anything wrong. You're just getting impatient. The only way you build up the kind of non-hesitation we're looking for is through experience. The only way to get that experience is the long and hard route. Yes, you're struggling now—but in months and in years you'll be in a much better place off."

Philo crossed his arms and grunted. "Philo does not find that very comforting."

"I'm not here to comfort you, I'm here to tell you the truth."

He turned and looked at Rolam.

"As for you," he said. "You're making the same mistake he is. You're letting your emotions go out of control. This is a long game. Repairing the gaps in your knowledge is going to be frustrating and difficult, but you can't let it get to you. Falling into a frustrated state of mind will only make things harder. It's not conducive to learning. Take your time with the subject and don't punish yourself for not immediately getting it."

Rolam glared at the ground and chewed his bottom lip. "Fine," he said. "But you need to tell Philo to stop jumping ahead!"

"It's not Philo's fault that the elf is so stupid."

Children.

Literal children.

Mal glared at Philo with every speck of built-up frustration that this training session had caused.

Philo's eyes shot wide open and he startled back before he caught himself with his clawed hands.

Okay. A bit of an overreaction, but whatever.

"Mal, what about me?"

Nima tilted his head and looked directly at Mal.

"Yeah, I mean, just keep doing what you're doing."

Nima chuckled and sighed. "I don't know if I should be disappointed or glad that I didn't get a full speech."

Mal raised his voice. "Break time's over. Let's get back to it."

And then after that, he thought, it'll be my first day back in class. Hopefully, I won't get into any more trouble or attract any more attention.

Yeah, that's not happening.

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