#arcanima

The circle is the most basic shape of magic, the foundation for nearly all of the most important spells within an arcanist’s grimoire. Even thaumaturgy and black magic must needs bow to its use, stabilizing their spells else the power they attempt to channel consume them whole. Conjury, too, though less obviously, for the cycle of life and death and the elements was just another kind of circle writ large across creation.

Synnove walks smooth and sure, adjusting her grip on the array rod minutely as needed to ensure the circle growing behind her is as perfect as her steps. Tyr shadows her, ensuring the furrow left by the rod are smooth and flawless, using his equally precise aether control to flick away pebbles and rocks. Across her shoulders, Galette sprawls, though they are working today so rather than napping, she keeps the winds on the work site that blow off the Indigo Deep calm and friendly, and her nose twitches as she takes in the ambient aether, ensuring no sudden changes occur that will affect the efficacy of the array.

Dawn is only just breaking on the eastern horizon.

Ten minutes later, Synnove finishes the circle and a satisfying snap crackles through the air as she closes it, the protective magicks this array will emit already thrumming to life with the intent that Synnove used in the shaping. Tyr packs down the small pile of dirt with a paw, and Synnove side steps carefully inward until she is precisely six feet from the edge. The end of the rod hits the dirt with a soft thud, and once more, she begins to walk.

This time, behind her, other arcanists move in to begin carving out the shapes and equations that will fill the outermost circle. Topaz carbuncles join Tyr in removing the detritus, either pitching it beyond the edge of the array or packing it down into the earth.

Once a permanent array has begun its crafting, they cannot stop. If it takes all day to finish, so be it. If they work into the night and the next dawn, to ensure its perfection, so be it.

When the second circle is complete, Synnove moves further inward, ever and on, creating each and every circle this array requires with surety. Once the last closes, she moves to assist with the secondary lines and equations and shapes, one arcanist among many working as a smoothly oiled magitek engine.

They break at noon for food and water, and as Synnove drinks from her canteen and eats a roll stuffed with cheese and thinly sliced beef and roasted peppers, she walks the array, Tyr at her side. With a critical eye, she tracks every curve, every straight line, every number and letter scored into the earth, ensuring total perfection. Anything less, and the array won’t work.

Or it’ll explode.

Fifty-fifty chance, depending.

After lunch, work resumes, slow and methodical. Someone starts a shanty that helps the afternoon roll by a little faster, though quiet still dominates: concentration is key. But as the shadows lengthen, the carving finishes, and Synnove and the other senior arcanists walk the array once more, stepping carefully into any free spot, examining and double-checking and studying. Her fellows use copies of the array written in plain ink on plain parchment as reference; Synnove needs only her memory.

Then, finally, once they deem the array perfect, it’s the turn of the metallurgists to work.

Ivar and the few other ruby carbuncles the Guild has have been minding the crucibles, ensuring the metal within remains fiery hot, especially now as the metallurgists carefully carry the crucibles out in pairs to the array from the makeshift smithy. And, even more carefully, they begin to pour, melting flowing down the circle’s edge and diverting into the channels made by the other array elements as the metallurgists now walk the same path that Synnove did.

The ruby carbuncles now work to ensure the metal—a mithril alloy the Guild favors for shielding arrays, a proprietary mix they jealously guard—stays just as molten in the earthen furrows as it does in the crucibles. When the metallurgists are finished, every part of the array that touches itself will be a single piece of metal. For now, the molten material glows white with its heat, setting the growing night alight.

By necessity, this step is slow: the metallurgists must tip the crucibles carefully and pour even more so, to ensure no metal splashes and mars the array. And the crucibles must be refilled. It is nearing midnight when every single element glows under the night sky.

Most of the arcanists returned home bells before, but Synnove and a few others remain. They walk the array one last time with the topaz and ruby carbuncles—Tyr is on her right, Ivar her left, sniffing suspiciously at anything that looks remotely like a bubble that could lead to a void in the metal. The radiating heat is pleasant against the chill of the night, and Galette draped around her neck—now asleep, no longer on duty—makes for an excellent scarf.

Finally, they are satisfied.

Force cooling metal so quickly could lead to brittleness and breaks if not performed with care, but with carbuncles aspected to earth and to fire working together, such work is complete in nearly an eyeblink. The final product glitters in the light from the torches surrounding the worksite, perfectly flush with the ground.

The ambient aether thrums with the change. Reality has been warped, if subtly.

Synnove strides out to the very middle of the array and points up. A roiling ball of Ruin rushes forth into the sky, up and up and up and—

—reality twists more obviously, and the spell smacks into a domed shield that glimmers into life, forcibly dissipating the spell into harmless aether. The shield itself is wide: the dome isn’t limited to the array itself, but arches out into the waters beyond the Range. It seals the entire island.

Synnove grins as she walks out to meet her colleagues. “Interior shell seems to hold well on initial application,” she says, softly scritching Tyr’s head where it leans into her hip. “We’ll do a more thorough test with the exterior defenses tomorrow.”

Houxine from mathematics rubs at her eyes as they trudge out the edge of the permanent array. “So glad to have this project nearly finished,” the elezen grumbles.

Murmurs of assent and yawns answer her. Synnove takes one last look out over the array, now lost to shadow, and leans down to rub her fingers over the perfectly smooth outer edge of the circle. The metal is still warm, and the magic in it hums contently to match the song of the aether in the air and soil around her.

A job well done, and Synnove nods her satisfaction, and follows after her colleagues.

“Right. And I’ve seen you use this tome when wielding the former art.” she responded, gesturing the dark blue and black tome in the center. Its cover was more metal, blue lighting, and magitek devices than any sort of leather.

He smiled as he walked over to pick up the….tome? device? He was never really sure which term was more proper. “Ah yes, the ‘magitek grimoire’ as Cid named it. It’s not even really a book, technically, the pages inside are actually a display screen that calls up the various formulae and array designs required to execute the necessary spells.”

A smile came across his face as he recalled the memory of first seeing the device (he was settling on that now, he decided). “Cid actually gifted this to me just before our assault on Castrum Meridianum. After I met him and his memory had returned, I pestered him endlessly with questions about magitek, how it worked, what all it could accomplish. He never once seemed annoyed, though. I think he was happy someone regarded his passion with such wonder. He custom designed this for me, made it look more like a tome just so it would feel more familiar when I used it. That’s why I still use it to this day. It was my first real experience with magitek. Without this….I don’t know, maybe I’d still have gone on to learn as much as I have about engineering and help build the Machinist’s Guild, but, this was still my first step.”

Gwen turned to him, smiling. “I know what you mean, love. And I’m very proud of you for how far you’ve come.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then broke away, giving him a rueful look. “But no more distracting, I still have questions. This book-” she said, gesturing to the rightmost item. “This one is the one you use when wielding the Scholarly magicks, right?”

The book in question was a thinner volume, bound in red and blue leather, but with a strange series of gear- and pipe-like metallic decorations. Attached to the back cover and extending beyond the edges of the cover were two small cylinders which each contained a glowing substance–pure aether.

Aleister set the Ironworks grimoire back in its place. “Good memory, I know I haven’t needed to wield the Scholar’s art much since you became a Sage, That actually isn’t one of Cid’s or Nero’s, believe it or not. Did I ever tell you about Gerolt Blackthorn?”

Gwen’s face scrunched as she thought. “Isn’t he that legendary weaponsmith you told me about? The one that Rowena keeps around because she’s actually in love with him?”

He chuckled “That’s the one, and just a reminder, don’t EVER say that in front of her. He was part of the Anima project, the one that was trying to create life from aether. As part of it, Gerolt restored a number of ancient relics to functional use, all of which were potentials to use for the Anima’s vessel. We ultimately decided to use the greatsword he made for Dahk, but the restored relics were still perfectly great weapons on their own. This one in particular is called Elements, an ancient treatise on the relationships between the different elemental forms of aether. As you might guess, the metallic bits were additions Gerolt added to help contain the Anima, but even without that, well, I admit I just really like the look of it. It fits my whole aesthetic, you know?”

Gwen snorted. “I’ve seen the attire you wear as a Scholar, husband mine, and yes, I can agree, that like said attire, it does fit the absolutely ridiculous aesthetic you have going there”

“Hey!” He swatted at her backside, which she expertly dodged, giggling the whole way.

“Did you just ask me in here to tease me about my attire choices, or was there something else?” he mock-growled.

“Actually, there was one last one.” she said, gesturing to the leftmost and final of the three tomes given prominent display on the shelf. This particular volume was quite massive, bearing a green and brown cover with a metallic brass covering the edges and in patterns across the font and back, set with green and red gems. The upper corner of the front had a long green horn extending from it. “So if the other two are your preferred implements for your two Arcanima-based arts, then what is this one? You normally keep the older tomes further in, behind the current ones.”

“Ah.” he responded, looking at the volume with a mixture of resigned acceptance and fondness. “Well, that’d be because it’s not exactly old. In fact, it’s probably the newest acquisition of the collection, actually. It’s called Espiritus, another Gerolt restoration, but this one is from Bozja.”

“Oh right! I remember Fearless talking about these, they were the weapons of their old queen’s elite guard, right?”

He nodded. “That’s right. I guess they had a particularly talented arcanist in their ranks. Either that or Gerolt just massively improved on the design. Even the paper within is a rare material.”

He removed the grimoire from it’s resting place and opened it. The paper inside was a dark bluish-gray, the arrays and formulae within inscribed with a brilliant gold ink. Gwen marveled at the beauty. She knew her husband and provided the specifics of the designs to Gerolt to fill the tome’s pages, but it had been Gerolt’s expert hands that actually put them to page. The man was a marvel.

“It’s beautiful, but….if you prefer the magitek grimoire for day to day use, then what purpose does this one serve, then?”

His face twisted up in irritation. “I keep it handy for when I need to visit Maelvaan’s Gate.”

“The Arcanist’s guild? Why?”

“Because the last time I opened the Ironworks one within its halls, every single Arcanist in there looked at me like I’d insulted them personally.”

Gwen was taken aback, crossing her arms. “You’re joking.”

Aleister shook his head. “I am not. I was force-marched to the office of one of the departmental vice-chairs, the one with the insanely piercing eyes, and harangued for a solid hour on the importance and correctness of using ‘an actual, proper paper book’ when practicing Arcanima. Any protests I made about its effectiveness were shushed, and any examples I gave of deeds I had accomplished while using it were met with ‘and think about how much better you could have done with a proper grimoire’ and the like”

Gwen struggled mightily to hold back in her laughter, covered her mouth in the process, but she could tell from her husband’s expression that he wasn’t fooled. The man always could read her moon in her eyes very well, damn him. She regained control of herself and tried to set her mind back on his side. “Okay, funny as that image is, they shouldn’t treat you like that! You’re a Warrior of Light! You not only brought back two Arcanima based styles back out of history, you improved upon them! Please tell me you told Thubyrgeim about this, she needs to have a word with her people.”

To her shock, Aleister laughed, almost bitterly. “Who do you think did the forcible marching?”

She gasped, mostly to cover another laugh. “You’re kidding!”

“I am not. She might present herself as the picture of sanity in a madhouse, but the truth is she’s just as mad as all of them. The whole guild. Sometimes I’m amazed the Gate hasn’t exploded already”

She smirked at her husband “Uh huh. You’re part of that guild too, my love. And don’t even pretend you don’t enjoy a good explosion, I’ve seen the mad inventions that you, Cid, and Stephanivien have concocted before.”

“Quiet, you. I’m going back to making our dinner.”

“There--” He coughed, and cleared his throat. “There’s been a mistake, Jacke didn’t tell me about coming here.” 

At that the woman paused, and brought her hands up to rub at her temples. “But of course. Why wouldn’t Jacke tell his newest recruit about training with the Arcanists’ guild. Agh, I swear, if Milala doesn’t kill him first, I will do it in my sister’s stead.” 

Aiden blinked at her. Politely. 

The woman huffed at him, and planted her hands on her hips. “I am Assessor Tonana Tona, it’s lovely to meet you.” 

“You don’t sound enthused.” He observed hesitantly. 

“I’m not.” She shot back. “I train most of the Rogue’s Guild recruits, except you didn’t show up last week like you were supposed to, and Mistress Thubyrgeim needs my help with a rowdy carbuncle.” 

The red creature at her feet yipped, and she reached down to pet the it. It was almost as big as she was. She sighed and shook her head. “One of the carbuncles’ bond matrix broke, and now they’re not dissipating into the aether like they should. And now they’re running through all our stores of crystals, looking for food.”

“I don’t understand a word of what you just said.” He admitted, curling his fingers around the book protectively. It was worn against his fingers, feeling soft and well loved, but even he could tell it was a training weapon rather than the full deal. 

Tonana sighed at him. “... Well. I guess we’d better start somewhere. You can hold a quill, yes?” 

He nodded, and she handed him a primary feather from a dodo’s wing, and a pot of enchanted iron ink. She beckoned him to follow her, and led him deeper inside the Gate, and started explaining. Arcanima was primarily math applied to magic, encouraging the aether to flow along precise patterns that were etched in ink, either in the grimoire he held, or the air as he casted. Each tome held dozens of glyph-spells that formed different effects, and depending on where and how much aether he channeled into each one, they could wind up being quite different. Of course, another key aspect was the creation and manifestation of the carbuncles -- creatures that were called into life by using gemstones as a foci and a complex array of geometric spells. Arcanima also dealt with things such as infectious diseases and their healing, with spells designed around chipping away vitality through sickness and malady. 

“... By extension, the spell Physick isn’t so much a pure healing spell as say, Cure,” Tonana explained as she dragged him down into the depths of the tower. “Whereas Cure might magically ‘set to rights’ the wound, Physick seeks to purge the wound as if you would purge a virus in the bloodstream.” 

“That… sounds like the same thing,” he admitted quietly. “I know it’s not, but I’m not a spell caster.” 

“No. You are a rogue.” She said, waving a hand. “I do not expect you to gain a massive understanding of this overnight, nor do I expect you to grasp the intricacies of Arcanima. But these are the basics. If you, like most rogues, wish to learn to cast Physick in a way that will keep yourselves alive, you need to know the difference between it and a conjurer’s application of a similar spell. Else you might end up hurting yourself. Is that what you want?” 

He shook his head, and she nodded in satisfaction. “You rogues are smarter than most give you credit for -- My sister Milala among them. I know you lot have the ability to understand the intricacies of science, even if you aren’t book-smart. You play at politics and strategy the same as we Arcanists do, you only do so from the dark with a dagger. A blade pointed at a target with no knowledge of where to aim might as well be a blunt stick, yes? So I expect you to be able to keep up.”

Hours later, he asked her why the Rogue’s guild had the partnership with the Arcanists. She looked at him expectantly, and motioned for him to answer his own question. He stared down at the papers that held dozens of Ruin spells inked onto them, as well as an array for Miasma that would blunt his opponent’s healing and make them harder to move to give him an opening. 

His fingers hesitated, stiff as they were from holding the quill and spattered with ink, but he signed anyways. “The Gate functions as a check for everything that comes into Limsa. That includes anything that might be untoward. Pirate and Privateer vessels are not exempt. So it benefits the Rogue’s guild to have a source of information of anyone that might be breaking the code.” 

“Very good!” She said, clapping at him. The first few times she had done it, it had felt condescending and annoying, but by now he took it for the genuine compliment that it was. “There’s also the knowledge that sometimes we know that a crew is hiding something, but we cannot order a search without due process. So we give the information to the Rogue’s guild, and they decide if they wish to suss out if it’s dangerous enough that it breaks the Code and they have to intervene. Likewise, they keep an eye out for things that we need to take care of, such as plague rats.” 

“Plague rats?” He asked, flexing his fingers and flipping the page of his grimore to another spell. By the Fury, he wanted tea. He didn’t even care if it was something like dandelion tea, or mint, just something that wasn’t ale.

“A bit of a catch-all term, I will admit,” Tonana explained, reaching to grab his papers and check them over. “Rogues tend to have a better idea when there’s a new infection that travels among the poor and unclean of the city. Oftentimes, being a port to places such as the New World, vermin carrying diseases and sicknesses come on the ships and aren’t caught quick enough. They go to the docks and ground, and it’s the less fortunate that usually fall ill first. Part of an Assessor’s job is to look into the new strains and perform quarantine, as well as research a cure. The Bio spell is a modified viral strain from the Northern Seas, given to upset stomachs and leaking liquid at both ends. Arcanists took the base matrix for the disease and worked it until it became an offensive spell that we use, with a finite end to the effect unless we reapply it.” 

“That… that’s horrifying,” he managed, staring at her. She merely smiled at him. 

She placed the papers back down on the table, only for the door to the study to bang open with a crack against the stone wall. There was a shout from outside, and something yellow and fuzzy streaked into the room, clawing up the chair and shooting across the table. The small thing slammed into his chest with a discordant musical chime, feeling like a sack of bricks had landed on his ribcage. He couldn’t even see what it was, but it clawed up his chest and snuck under his hair, twining around his neck and letting out a windchime hiss. 

Scared scared hungry scared lonely when is master coming back scared don’t want to go back to Sea hungry scared --

His mind whirled with thoughts that weren’t his own as the little creature shook against his neck, pressing close enough to make their fur flat against him. A carbuncle, he thought, trying to make sense of the dim emotional impressions he got from it. 

“Where is that little hellion?!” a deep voice shouted, and a roegadyn skidded into the view of the doorway, panting and bending over at the waist. When they stood up again, hair falling into their face, they pointed at Aiden, and the Carbuncle around his neck and shoulders. “That one’s been eating through all the crystal stores again!” 

Hungry… came the whine in Aiden’s head, and with it a sort of cramping tightness that felt like he was drained of aether. It tucked it’s head into his neck, trying to hide away from the roegadyn that was shouting at it. Without even realizing, he reached up to pat it, and offer a bit of aether like he would to his twin. 

“Oh dear,” Tonana said, standing up in her chair to get a look at the carbuncle that was twining around his neck. “All of them? Why isn’t its summoner providing it with enough aether…” 

“I don’t know, but I’m going to Bio them in the face if we don’t find out,” the roegadyn woman huffed, planting her hands on her hips. “The whole next week’s store is gone, Tonana, thanks to that one right there!” 

The carbuncle latched onto his finger with sharp little teeth, and he winced. He could feel it draining aether out of him, bit by bit, even as the carbuncle shook with fear over being ripped away from him. 

It’s okay, he tried to say to it, projecting a little bit of calm, and security. He was always crap at projecting, and it was only Hilda’s long experience with his … gift… that she was able to understand him at all. He hoped the carbuncle was able to understand him. You’re with me now. 

Scared. It sent back, along with flickering images of being chased, having food taken away, and searching for its master. Searching and searching, with no luck. 

“I’ll take it,” he rasped, cutting off whatever conversation Tonana and the roegadyn were having. Both of them stared at him in shock, with Tonana’s mouth falling open. 

“You can’t…! If it’s bound to another, you can’t just take it for your own,” Tonana protested. “Nevermind the fact that you’d never be able to feed it aether to exist properly, and if it was destroyed, you couldn’t call it back out of the Sea.” 

The carbuncle nibbled on his finger again, supping on his aether quietly with a sort of relief. He could feel the tightness around the creature’s chest starting to loosen. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, but already it felt a little less scared and hungry. Something clenched inside his chest, and he couldn’t help how he cradled the carbuncle’s tiny head with his hand. “I said I’ll take it.” 

“Now see here, a novice like you can’t even take over a pact--” The roegadyn woman said, before stopping. “You’re… feeding it aether? How, that’s impossible--” 

“Not impossible, Blyssbyrda,” Tonana corrected, with a sudden gleam in her eye. “But very, very difficult. Do you have a twin?” At his surprised look, she did a little fist pump. “I knew it! You’re already used to giving aether to your sibling, so an aetherial construct likely isn’t much different. Alright, that means that we’ll need to modify the summoning matrix for you, as well as do something unholy to the aether channels, but I think this can work--” 

“Tonana, you can’t be serious!” Blyssbryda protested, pointing to the Carbuncle. “Who knows how long that one’s been causing problems around here, nevermind the fact that we can’t just give something like this to a novice!” 

The carbuncle shook against his shoulder again, and twisted around his neck and under his curtain of hair to better hide away from the other arcanists. It chimed softly, the sound somewhere between scared and resigned. 

What’s your name? He asked it, stroking it gently to try and soothe it. He looked back at the two women, and just lifted a brow. “I said I’ll take it.” 

The image of a small, yellow flower bloomed into his mind, waving gently in the summer wind. A pair of hands plucked them from the ground and formed a small crown out of them, and plopped them on his--the carbuncle’s--head. 

“... Dandelion?” He asked softly, twisting his head to get a good look at the yellow carbuncle that twined around his shoulders. It--They. They looked at him with joy, their little beady eyes sparkling, and chimed happily. He smiled at them, and scritched just behind the left ear, where it itched. He glanced back at Tonana and Blyssbryda, and smiled. “Their name is Dandelion.” 

“Their, hm?” Tonana said, and her eyes gleamed with a sort of manic interest that told him he’d probably not be sleeping for a week. “I’ll send a missive to Jacke and let him know you’re to be my apprentice for the foreseeable future, until we can figure out what’s going on with Dandelion here. I hope you like math, Aiden!”