Portent Protection (1)

Professor Rhetrick entered the classroom, rather than Gieller, precisely on time.

 As he moved to the front of the room, his sharp gaze locked briefly onto Riniock, his expression unreadable. A moment later, his eyes shifted across the room to Urael, seated on the far side, before he finally addressed the class.

 'Good afternoon, everyone,' he said, settling onto a tall chair. With a wave of his hand, a chalkboard floated into position beside him, guided effortlessly by telekinesis.

 'Are we not supposed to have Professor Gieller?' someone asked.

 'No. Following recent events,' he continued, evading the question, his tone measured, 'and the clear dangers that acolytes – yes, all of you – might face if you were to step into the world as you are now, the arch-maegi has instructed me to expedite my end-of-term subject. We'll begin it immediately.'

 'Professor, what is this subject about?' a student asked.

 Professor Rhetrick leaned back, crossing one leg over the other as he laced his fingers together. 'Up until now, when faced with incoming projectiles, how have you, as acolytes, responded?' His sharp gaze scanned the room before settling on Riniock. 'Mr. Riniock, given your recent impressive performance in the arena, perhaps you can enlighten us.'

 Riniock straightened slightly in his seat, noticing the sarcasm in his tone. 'Mostly, I dodged or countered spells with my own when the timing felt right.'

 'Exactly,' Rhetrick replied, nodding. 'This is typical of most novice maegis. But let me make something clear: you cannot spend your careers dodging spells like monkeys swinging through trees.'

 He paused, his words interrupted by movement. An acolyte had risen from his seat and was striding towards the door.

 'And where, precisely, do you think you're going?' Rhetrick's voice turned sharp, cutting through the room.

 Siegmun halted mid-step, turning back with an air of mild confusion. 'Out, professor. I've already taken Charms with you before.'

 'And does that make you too mighty to attend it again?' Rhetrick's tone dripped with disdain.

 'No, professor,' Siegmun replied carefully. 'I'm only here for Professor Gieller's lesson.'

 'Then I suggest you sit back down,' Rhetrick said coldly, his attention already shifting back to the class. 'You might as well earn yourself some extra credit.'

 Siegmun hesitated for a moment, the professor's dismissal leaving him uncertain. After a brief pause, he turned on his heel and rejoined Karia at their desk, his expression unreadable.

 Rhetrick rose from his seat, grabbing a metallic ball from his desk. 'As I was saying, most of you still rely solely on dodging,' he said, tossing the ball at a nearby student, proving his point on the spot. 'True maegi, however, master the art of casting wards.'

 He picked up a piece of chalk and began drawing a spell circle on the board, the intricate symbols and arcane letters forming an elaborate design. The process took nearly ten minutes as Rhetrick carefully expanded the circle to ensure it was large enough for everyone in the classroom to see.

 Once finished, he tossed the chalk aside. 'All of you, inscribe this into your arcane tomes just as I've taught you. You,' he pointed directly at Riniock, 'can use your own method. Let's see who finishes first.'

 The acolytes sprang into action, pulling out their tomes and preparing their inks for the painstaking process of inscription. Siegmun, meanwhile, sat at his desk, quietly reviewing his own notes on ward inscriptions.

 Rhetrick paced the classroom, inspecting their progress.

 His sharp eyes scrutinised each attempt, but it was clear that Riniock's work stood out, his precision and speed surpassing the rest.

 'First one to complete the inscription flawlessly,' Rhetrick announced, 'will get to practice directly with me.' His words carried an air of challenge, spurring the students to work even faster.

 Despite the professor's encouragement, Riniock once again outshone his peers. In a record fifteen minutes, he completed his inscription.

 'Professor, I've finished,' he announced with respect. 'How should I proceed?'

 Rhetrick scanned the room, his gaze sweeping over the struggling students. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face as he acknowledged the stark contrast in progress.

 'Bring it here,' he said, his tone tinged with irritation.

 Riniock approached, tome in hand, and presented it to the professor. Rhetrick examined the work closely, his sharp eyes scanning every line and symbol.

 'Well,' he admitted begrudgingly, 'it seems you've proven your skill once again, Mr. Riniock. Follow me to demonstrate the ward spell.'

 He strode to the centre of the classroom, a flick of his hand sending the blackboard gliding away to clear space. 'You will cast a spell at me, and I'll protect myself using the ward I just taught you.'

 'Understood, Professor,' Riniock replied, positioning himself with a calm, focused demeanour.

 The rest of the acolytes – Siegmun included – abandoned their own work for the moment, their eyes locked on the scene. The room was steeped in anticipation as they waited to witness the exchange.

 Rhetrick stood motionless, his hands clasped behind his back, his confidence unwavering.

 'Let's see one of your famed air blades,' he commanded.

 Riniock seized the opportunity, unleashing his fastest air blade – a result of relentless training and precision. The spell tore through the classroom air, its velocity a testament to his effort, aiming to catch his professor unprepared.

 Just before impact, an immaculate, shimmering barrier materialised around Rhetrick, a luminous blend of white and blue. The air blade disintegrated on contact, dissipating like water against a solid wall.

 'Observe,' Rhetrick said, his arm barely lifting, fingers extended in a calculated formation. Before his palm, a glowing replica of the spell circle hovered in midair. 'I didn't even have to move. When casting a ward, there are two crucial components to remember: the spell circle and the cost. Who can explain their significance?'

 Riniock, having witnessed the spell firsthand, was quick to respond. 'The spell circle acts as a signature, a guide that aligns your body's intent with your mind's command.'

 'Good explanation,' Rhetrick acknowledged, though he added, 'but your phrasing could use refinement. And the cost?'

 Siegmun raised his hand, taking the opportunity to contribute.

 'Yes, Mr. Siegmun?' Rhetrick gestured, allowing him to speak, though his approval was measured – this acolyte had taken the lesson before.

 'Wards are resource-intensive spells,' Siegmun explained. 'They require a constant odh expenditure to maintain. Additionally, absorbing the impact of an attack further drains your reserves.'

 'Correct,' Rhetrick affirmed, his praise muted. 'I could keep this ward active all day while deflecting your weak spells without significant depletion. However, you don't have that luxury. Wards are invaluable but costly, so managing your odh consumption is critical.'

 The acolytes diligently scribbled notes in their tomes, capturing every detail of Rhetrick's explanation.

 'Now,' Rhetrick declared, shifting his focus, 'let's see Mr. Riniock cast the ward himself. Are you ready?'

 Riniock stepped forward, his stance confident. 'Ready, Professor.'