Chapter 39: The Spell Wager
The training grounds of the Crafter Estate buzzed with energy as soldiers ran drills in precise formations, blades flashing in unison under the pale morning sun. Yet a noticeable pause rippled through the crowd as a lone figure hurried across the stone walkway--hair ruffled, boots half-laced, and shirt worn clearly in haste.
"Young Master Arc, you are late."
Liya Wispwood's voice rang out sharp and clear across the grounds like a whip crack. She stood beneath the shade of an ivory-barked tree, her arms folded, an eyebrow arched in visible disapproval. The light caught the silver embroidery of her Uniform -- a Uniform that denoted her rank not only as a Master Mage, but also as a formal battlefield tactician, A Commander commissioned under the Crafter Banner. Her eyes, always calm, now shimmered with that particular brand of teacherly disappointment.
Arc winced mid-step.
"Sorry about that, Master Liya," he said, approaching with his head slightly bowed. "I… kinda overslept. I was working on a spell last night. Had an idea, started building on it, and, well… I might have forgotten to rest."
He chuckled as he ended his sorry excuse. His words tumbled fast and slurred, equal parts embarrassment and sleep deprivation. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he recalled what he'd told her just yesterday when his Master asked him not to be late for the training:
"... I won't..."
Liya didn't miss a beat. "I see. So that's what 'not being late' looks like?"
Somewhere behind her, the soldiers had subtly slowed their sparring routines. A few stopped, nudging each other and gesturing toward Arc like a rare spectacle had begun. One person leaned in and whispered to another, and suddenly, a loud voice came from the training crowd, "Five silver on Commander Wispwood, making him run laps till dusk."
Liya glared towards the sound, visibly displeased by insubordination. Although most soldiers had not broken discipline and were busy training, those who had broken discipline returned to their stations after seeing her silent, angry grin. She exhaled slowly as she turned. "So. You were working on a spell, were you?" Her tone held disbelief, though not outright dismissal. She had heard tales--some whispered, others muttered with awe--about Arc Crafter and his peculiar Nature. The boy was erratic, perhaps, but undeniably gifted.
Still, she couldn't let this pass unchallenged.
"Very well," she said at last. "If what you claim is true, then show me."
Arc blinked. "You mean right now?"
"Yes. Exactly Right Now. You'll demonstrate your magical ability in a short sparring session, or perhaps that was just an excuse you came up on your way here," she remarked.
"No, I was working on my Magic..." Arc tried to rebut and reinforce his claim.
"Very well, we will see soon enough." She turned slightly. "Mica dear, please come forward."
The young apprentice stepped forward from behind Liya, eager and already in training robes, her expression unreadable.
"You and Mica will have a controlled duel," Liya continued. "No melee. No hand-to-hand strikes unless your spell directly requires it. You are to use only your magical abilities. I've already seen what you're capable of in close combat. She recalled witnessing the last portions of the Duel Arc, and Mica fought. This time, I want to see your spellwork."
Arc's expression darkened slightly. The memory of his last bout with Mica wasn't fond, especially not how it ended. Mica looked momentarily flustered, her shoulders stiff as she glanced at the ground.
"Minimal damage," Liya added. "No fireballs in people's faces or Earth spikes tearing the ground. We're not rebuilding the field again." She commanded with a slightly unpleasant grin o her face after recalling the damage assessment done to the training field after the goblin attack, amongst other building structures along the eastern wall, as the training grounds were placed right close to the eastern walls guarding the base's eastern front, they suffered heavy damage during the goblin attack.
Showing signs of sleep deprivation and drowsiness, Arc raised a brow. "So… how do we know who wins?"
Liya smirked and withdrew two simple-looking amulets, identical in shape--flat, circular, and dull silver, with no markings save for a faint indent in the centre -- from her pocket.
"You'll wear these around your neck," she said, handing one to each of her pupils. "The goal is simple. Retrieve your opponent's amulet while protecting your own using mana arts. The first one to do so wins." The two Pupils were too busy giving a rival stare at another to fully grasp the nuances of the rules of engagement.
As the two students reached their positions, Liya raised a hand, projecting her voice across the grounds. "Alright, listen closely, clear the centre, and take your position! Training is paused. You're about to witness a live demonstration of controlled magical sparring."
Excited murmurs spread as veterans and trainees began to fill the outer stand. Some began placing bets in hushed yet hurried tones, others watched with wide eyes as they all began to clear the grounds. Few even jotted notes onto parchment, especially those who had never seen an active Spell-based duel.
Arc exhaled slowly as he fastened the amulet around his neck and glanced toward Mica, who had already assumed a ready stance. Mana stirred faintly in the air around her--controlled, deliberate, like a dancer rehearsing a routine in silence.
He cracked his knuckles and held his palms out, fingers splayed as Liya stepped away from them, approaching the Wooden railing.
The field lay quiet--eerily so--save for the faint rustle of wind brushing across the training ground's wide stone tiles covered with wet and dry sand. At its centre, Arc and Mica stood opposite each other, tension thick between them. Both wore their assigned amulets, slung loosely around their necks like unassuming pendants. Their expressions were focused, unreadable.
Surrounding them, soldiers, both veteran and trainee, had already gathered along the edges of the perimeter, taking their positions, now transforming the whole training field into an impromptu arena. The makeshift standing platforms were already filled, and a low current of murmurs passed between the observers. Friendly rivalries stirred, and wagers began forming almost instinctively.
"Ten silver on Mica," muttered Aric, folding his arms and giving a firm nod as he leaned against the Wooden railing. He was one of the senior veterans among the soldiers. She's disciplined. Precise. The boy's just raw talent with no training."
Across from him, Eamon chuckled as he flipped a silver coin between his fingers. "Raw talent, you say. That's exactly what you want when facing the unexpected. I place my bet on the Crafter Brat. Besides, I heard a rumour that the two had fought yesterday and Arc was the one who came on top."
"I've heard about that, too. But as far as I know, he was armed with a blade," Aric retorted. "This is not the same battlefield now, is it? Also, I've heard that the boy lacks talent in magic," Aric added, shrugging. "A sword or not, he still beat her. Care to wager?" Eamon asked Aric, their expressions buzzing with rivalry as they bickered about who would emerge victorious.
Their exchange caught the attention of others nearby, and soon, the banter spread like wildfire. More soldiers joined the friendly argument, forming informal betting pools. Copper and silver clinked between palms, hands raised to signal their chosen fighter. Despite the casual atmosphere, everyone knew how rare it was to witness a sanctioned duel between two mages--especially one that Commander Liya herself presided over.
Leaning against the wooden post of the arena's borders, her back and elbows grazing the wooden railing, Liya Wispwood allowed a faint smile as she listened to the murmurs beside her. She placed one leg on the lower wooden railing while the other was firmly placed on the ground, her uniform catching a breeze as she turned slightly to address the duo.
"You two make fair points," she said, loud enough to carry to the nearby debating soldiers. "Mica is well-trained, the best I have personally seen so far. She is at the top of her class for elemental spells, particularly excelling in Wind attribute spells, her speciality just like Mine. Her mana output is stable and refined."
Aric raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a self-assured grin. "See?"
"But…" Liya continued, tilting her head toward Arc's side of the field, "Arc is unpredictable. And last time, with nothing more than a blade and poor footing, he still managed to bring Mica to a standstill. You'd be wise not to discount someone just because they don't register high on the standard arcane potential scale."
Eamon beamed. "Told you."
"That said," she added, "today they fight without weapons. No melee. Only magic. The playing field has changed, and neither do they have an excuse. Specially Arc."
That comment sent a ripple of silence across the listening crowd around her, followed quickly by a quiet rustle as soldiers reassessed their bets. A few coins were returned, some quietly re-staked elsewhere. The odds, once skewed in favour of Mica, now evened out in uncertainty.
That reminds me, why does everyone, including veteran soldiers, carry coins? It's not like you can buy anything around here; no one lives in this area. No, wait, don't tell me...
As she realised the answer to her question, Eamon and Aric turned their heads toward her and spoke with big, smiling grins, "Heh... heh... What else, Commander Liya? What else? But to grab first dibs on the exotic trade goods that pass through the checkpoints during the 'Arcana Vael Festival'?"
"Wouldn't that go against the rules?" Liya, still flustered, inquired with a slightly angry grin.
"Ah, don't worry, Commander. We ran that request by the General way back when..." He accepted our terms, provided each soldier could only carry what they could manage alone. We also conducted the transaction under the watch of high-ranking officers--meaning us and others of the same rank," the duo pointed to themselves, thinking their strategy was clever.
"Is that so? And when was this exactly?" Liya chimed in, asking for more details to ensure their story checks out.
Eamon recalled as he asked, "Remember last year, the General helped us bust a huge undead infestation near the Ogre Caves."
"Yes, I do. How could I forget that? We suffered significant losses. That's why the general personally intervened to help minimise the casualties. It happened right after the passes were shut and the mana density was returning to its usual peak. I don't remember all the details, as I was not in charge of the situation, but the case was indirectly related to smuggling goods across the borders. Perhaps that's why he allowed you all to proceed with this," Liya said.
"We aren't sure if that was the main reason, but when we approached the general to request the concession, he hesitated at first. However, he eventually permitted us after agreeing to the terms, perhaps as a reward for completing the assigned mission," Aric replied.
"It's not an unheard-of practice. Even before we got permission from the General, some soldiers engaged in this act without authorisation."
"Ha... ha..." Liya chuckled. "You all don't understand, do you? The General used you to ensure no one smuggled illegal goods or exploited the traders. By permitting you to engage in trade, he is lowering the security risk and placing greater responsibility on the captains and knight commanders."
The smiles on their faces turned cold for a moment but quickly returned. "Ah, who cares? The opportunity to trade with the merchants is a significant win. Given that we don't get to celebrate the festival back home, this is a fair bargain. This way, we at least get a leg up on the guys stationed back at the capital."
"The General can be thoughtful like that sometimes," Liya remarked.
"Yes, he can. Initially, he requested we keep it a secret until it was too late. I think he intended to play a little prank on all of you--the commanders, that is." Eamon chimed as he caressed his chin with his right hand, as he went into deep thought. "Man, thinking about getting my first dibs on the cheap goods, and we are getting first dibs, meaning we get to haggle the price down even more, and they will willingly do it to reduce their carrying load and transport risk," Eamon said.
"It looks like I am talking to someone quite experienced in this business," Liya remarked.
"Ops busted," Aric spoke out. The trio's attention quickly shifted as Mica and Arc were ready to begin their sparring match.
Back on the field, Arc adjusted his stance. He exhaled through his nose and tapped the amulet with one finger.
Arc looked down at the amulet. It didn't radiate magic -- at least, not any that could be detected through regular means. A trick, perhaps? Merely a test? Lightweight… but bound with something. Arcane thread? Maybe it reacts to force? He filed the thought away.
Mica mirrored his motion across from him, her hands glowing faintly with energy already coursing beneath her skin.
Cheers rose behind them as the last bets were placed and the crowd settled into quiet anticipation.
Liya raised a hand high into the air.
"All right," she said calmly. "No more wagers. No outside interference. No lethal force. This duel will be conducted under Magus Academy regulations--first to claim the opponent's amulet, or force them to yield, wins."
A gust of wind blew across the field, ruffling their clothes like the breath of the duel itself.
Then, Liya's voice cut the silence like a blade:
"Begin!" Liya declared.
And with that, the duel commenced in an instant.
To be Continued.
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