The Wandering Mage

"...There's not much I can help you with, in that case." He doesn't really have the time or energy to give him any sort of emergency go-over, so this is what they're stuck with. Oh, actually: "Don't pull on the drawstring if you aren't loosening an arrow, as a note. That pressure needs to go somewhere, and it'll wreck the entire frame if you do. Other than that, you may just need to intuit the rest."

That last bit isn't very good advice, and he knows it, but he's not suited to being a teacher in the slightest. Which makes his own position a bit precarious, but that's something he'll figure out once he's got Erk out of the door.

Though... maybe he's not suited for teaching magic. The bow, however, Erk can imagine would be a good thing for him to teach.

Never mind the growing pile of ungraded theoretical exams that await him on his desk. Actually...with how much mages love to pore over tomes, maybe grading is Erk's idea of fun. They might even strike a deal later.

Ah, but he's letting himself get distracted.

“More importantly, though, check this out.” He slaps the map with the back of his free hand. “You hear about those magic hot springs? Well, guess who just found a map that leads right to them.” 

He'd planned to make the trek alone, but traveling with a familiar face should ease the boredom of the road...and help get him back on route if he gets lost.

Shrugging the strap of his travel pack up his shoulder, Hector nods toward the library doors.

He gets the feeling that no matter what he does or says, he'll be dragged along on this expedition either way. Lord Hector could be forceful like that. He might as well be dragged along on his own free will then, given he won't be able to argue.

"But fine, I will accompany you. I make no promises that I will get in the hot spring though." He squirms at the idea of undressing in front of Lord Hector of all people. Though it would be uncomfortable no matter who he was with. Even Serra.

There was an arithmetic class yesterday (numbers come pretty easily to her, and they're easier to read for now than words), and history this morning (she had her textbook open in front of her, but listened intently to the seminar without looking at it). This afternoon, though, the real fun is going to begin.

Magic class, magic class, magic class!!

Hopefully all of her classmates are friendly. Or at least most of them. Even one would be nice. She thinks she's heard the Black Eagles have several professors who teach magic. Will they be young or old? Silly, or serious? As long as they teach her things, they could really be anything.

Nino is getting the hang of her daily route through the monastery, so she's no longer a teeny bit late to most classes - instead, she's right on time. She gazes in wonder at all the students here - maybe a dozen of them - wondering how much magic they already know, which spirits they communicate with, and --

Woah!

The young man who settles himself behind the lectern at the head of the room is none other than Erk. Nino has to hold her hands over her mouth and kick her feet under her desk to keep from calling out to him, or jumping up to hug him (she's almost sure he'd hate that, anyway). So many friends are in Garreg Mach! Erk looks a little...older somehow, too. She wants to ask about everything he's been up to!!

But she'll hold her tongue. She doesn't want to cause a scene; that's nothing like what her family taught her.

He would call this lecture entirely unremarkable, just like the others. He is slowly improving at being able to talk and give seminars in front large groups of people.

Or it would have been unremarkable, had he not noticed a certain someone just after class ended. He tilts his head to the side, observing her in curiosity. Is he different to her? At what point in time does she come from? How does she know him?

But he doesn't know what type of person this little noble is. He may be the type of boy who is the latter type. The kind who liked to waste their energy with pointless activities.

After all these years of waiting for him, of chasing him, of longing for him, she hopes she's his for much, much longer than just one night.

She prays, as the two of them spill from the carriage and into the blissful, beautiful ball that she's been dreaming of (since, really, she was so small and young) that one day, he'll find it in him to promise himself to her forever.

But baby steps. She's alright with taking those with him. As long as he'll let her stay right here... that's what's important.

Admittedly, Chrom was intrigued by the way in which this youth kept to himself – Erk wasn’t one for fraternization, that much was obvious; even among the other oddities within the Black Eagles, Chrom didn’t see much of this one. It was reasonable then, of course, to want to drag him along for an excursion of his own. Of course, it still was a bit rude of Chrom to make such a decision; after all, dragging someone out to do something that they didn’t want to wasn’t the best thing that a man could do…

But Chrom truly did want someone to come along with him for fortune telling. It just happened to work out that his chosen proxy was the recluse amongst the Black Eagles professors. 

He did, however, laugh when Erk seemed to (almost defensively) determine that fortune telling wouldn’t be needed in the way of his love life. “Aha, ‘her’! So you do have a woman at your side, Erk? This might be the most you’ve divulged about yourself in my time at the Academy.” It was a small victory, after all it meant that he was learning something from his fellow professor. “As for that repayment…”

Now really would be the best time for them to make their appearance. Chrom was a swordsman at the end of the day, tomes and the like were far removed from his wheelhouse- though that answer might be of an annoyance more than anything. “I’m sure there are unique tomes somewhere in House Ylisse… I could see about getting some secured for you. But, that means you have to see this through to the very end.”

Is what he manages to spit out through his embarrassment. He didn't divulge things about himself to his fellow professors because there was no point. They weren't friends, and he had no reason to want to talk to them. Therefore, he didn't tell them anything about himself. Simple as that. He didn't exactly appreciate that sanctity between them being broken.

Still, he does light up a little at the mention of unique tomes, embarrassing himself further by his interest in them. He didn't want to be here, and showing interest in what he would get if he remained meant that he would have to stay. He shouldn't have said anything at all about repayment even being possible. He could have been home by now.

"Do you want to dance? The White Heron Cup is coming up soon... I don't know if you know this, but I got lessons from Ninian. If you follow my lead, we have, like, a real chance." Purple eyes glimmer beneath pure black eye shadow in excitement.

She's stunning tonight, almost too much for him to bear. He was so used to her in white and lighter colors that he had nearly fainted when he had first seen her outfit for tonight. He was composed now, but she still looked beautiful.

“Have you seen this before then?” He asked “I’ve heard rumours but dismissed them. I assumed I didn’t meet the criteria for the condition to affect me”

There was no space for love while his ghosts remained unfulfilled in their desire for retribution. Once that was complete he could look to the future as such frivolous things as love.

Erk drops his gaze towards the flowers coming from this man as more of them spill out of him, clearing his own throat as the same threatens to happen to him.

After all, she’d been chasing him for so long...

It’s that exact moment that the carriage lurches to a stop, bringing their two faces extremely close — she half-scrabbles away, heart racing — and then the doors open, and they’re being welcomed to a new land.

And what a beautiful land it is. A gorgeous ballroom, large doors open and letting in night breath, the ocean waves lapping in the distance a gentle song, people milling about outside under small glass lanterns, talking and laughing to one another... Serra’s heart swells, and she takes Erk’s hand.

But she is his. And he is hers. No matter what else happens tonight they have each other.

Bold of him to say that, maybe, but that’s only how he thinks of it — If you’re going to be a hindrance with a secondary weapon, you might as well just use the primary one. Feels like common sense, does it not?

…Easier said than done, maybe. The sword is, at its core, a weapon of war. To fully convey the meaning of a given sword is an impossible task, Karel would suppose, but all swords are weapons designed expressly for the purpose of taking human life — To deny that is simply futile. Wielding a sword takes a degree of intentionality that the bow does not; perhaps this is where he has always struggled...?

Karel isn’t given the time to contemplate it — Something appears in the corner of his eyes, just barely visible, and his hands move of their own volition. He fumbles on getting the arrow in the correct position, scarcely remembering the correct draw right as the arrow is loosened—

—Right into the animal's throat, where it almost certainly dies immediately.

"...Oh. Hm." Where in the world did that come from? He's always been mediocre at best with the bow, hasn't he...?

—Anyway. It looks like a bird, certainly, but Karel isn't sure if it's the bird they've been set out to look for. Might as well check in.

He stares at the bird, blinking at it awkwardly. Was he meant to be able to keep up with that? He's not sure that he could hit anything even if he did manage to get the arrow notched properly. He's not capable. He's not good enough.

Mark hadn't expected to see any familiar names on the list of faculty, so he was both surprised and elated to discover that he did, in fact, recognize some of them. Had he been the closest friend of Erk's? No, certainly not, but he couldn't expect to have been as close to him as Serra or Priscilla or Nino. They were all much closer to Erk in age anyway. Erk had listened to and respected Mark's orders, but that was about as far as things had gone. Still, they knew one another, which was enough for Mark.

As much as he wished to say he wasted no time in finding an excuse to see Erk, that was not the truth. Mark did waste a good bit of time. He was happy to reunite with an old friend, of course, but he didn't like to approach social situations without a plan. Well, he didn't like to approach any situation without a plan, but socializing was an important distinction here because of how nerve-wracking he found it to be. It would be embarrassing indeed to run up to Erk in public only for Erk to be unwilling to speak. Mark needed a good excuse to greet the mage first.

Thankfully, he had found one that Mark found at least somewhat compelling: magic. From what he understood, the people of Fódlan had a rather different approach to magecraft than those of Elibe. He'd seen a fair few people casting spells sans the aid of a tome or staff in his time here already. That was enough to be remarkable to him on its own. Even though Mark himself had little talent for magic, he understood its practice well enough to discuss it. If anyone would be more of an authority, it was Erk. With spellbooks in hand, Mark made his way to the office that bore Erk's name on the placard, politely knocking before entering.

"So it really is you," Mark chirped cheerfully, beaming at the mage from behind the stack of heavy tomes he held. "I hadn't actually expected to run into anyone familiar here. It's nice to know I'm not completely isolated from everyone I knew, though! ...Um, that sounded sadder than I meant it to. A-anyway, are you busy? I wanted to know if you'd any insight into how people practice magic here, because it seems rather different than back home."

At least this company is welcome. He would never turn down an old friend, especially one he feels as though he hasn't seen in a long long while. The massive stack of books suits him, even if they are not what Erk would expect to see Mark carrying. They must only be tomes because of what he was asking him, it was appropriate to bring them to a conversation about magic.

He gestures for his tactician to set them down, and to take a seat. As he does so, he quickly shoves some stray papers into a drawer in an attempt to look more put together than he actually was.

Valter would like to imagine himself as quite the clever individual. Certainly, he possessed a deal of raw strength, and his skill has long been his focus whenever he set himself to train; but his record was not what it was because he could fight. (Not solely, at least.) He was able to prove himself because he was smart; because he was clever, above all else.

As such, fun as it is to do combat with the thieves of the ocean, he is able to recognize when a fighter is looking for more than just the thrill of battle. Each bandit had a way that was looking about their surroundings—even when it seemed a tad disadvantageous—and when it was later discovered they were hunting for something, well: Valter was not surprised.

He is not given command to outwit them, however; instead, a student (always a student) is placed under his wing, and they are to further investigations and cease the bloodshed, however he and they deemed fit. Valter looks at this student now and thinks very little of his capabilities.

But that wasn’t going to get in the way of his games; he’d found a lead that led them to this particular town, and on the eve of a potential attack, Valter imagined it might be fun to get ahold of the heirloom first. His gaze is still harsh on the student, before it leaves to turn away to the town proper.

“ Somewhere in these streets should be a marked alley. We don’t know what the mark looks like, but it should point towards a hidden chamber beneath one of the buildings. The heirloom should be located within that chamber. ”

(It was remarkably folklorish, but that was the best method of protection, wasn’t it? To make the thing you’re hiding into little more than a myth.)

“ The mission, ” he continues, deadpan (even condescending), “ if it isn’t clear enough, is to recover this heirloom before the bandits can make a mess of anything else, understood? ”

(Formally, it was simply to verify the reports; and to act on any discoveries appropriately.)

“ The pirates could arrive at any moment. Don’t waste any time. ”

Though somehow he gets the feeling that this man thinks he's beneath him. Or he just thinks most people are beneath him in general. One of the two. Erk isn't sure what he would prefer.

Whether this is taken as an offense or not isn't really Sin's concern; he's always had the impression of Etrurians being a bit, bluntly, particular about their capabilities with magic, and it's a thought that comes with the awareness of their magic being of a very different kind than what he's used to.

...Hm. That's probably going to be a far bigger problem once he has to reckon with his end of this whole situation. He'll deal with anything that arises, somehow, as he always has. He has to.

"Men in Sacae learn how to use a bow from the moment we're old enough to hold one, but I guess it's unnecessary if you don't need to hunt to live..."

How strange the world outside the plains seems, even when he's seen so much of it for himself.

"I don't... know how to use a bow..." He mumbles quietly. Which was not entirely the truth. He knew a few basics from watching Lady Louise, and some things that he had picked up here at the academy. But he was far from an expert like those of the Sacae plains.