Day three in Goat Village.
No one in town had priestly aptitude, so Therandur took over the "melee class," leaving Gauss free to focus on his little pupil.
Rhein was gifted. In the world of professionals, there's no such thing as strict egalitarianism—Gauss owed her extra care.
They went to the clear stream. With the burble of water as a backdrop, Gauss broke Firebolt down further, punctuating explanations with the occasional cast. Each red meteor-streak lit Rhein's eyes with longing. For a girl from a humble village, magic was too beautiful, too good—and Gauss, in turn, grew even larger in her mind: the first person she'd met who was strong and beautiful, yet gentle.
He didn't know her thoughts; he just taught with patient detail, again and again, taking the spell apart until every piece fit. Rhein learned fast—not parroting, but really understanding. He finally grasped how Adèle and Rachel must have felt teaching him.
"Teacher, I… feel like I get it, but I can't cast it," she murmured, head down. She feared he'd think her a liar if she claimed progress with no proof—and she didn't want to say she had none and disappoint him.
Instead, Gauss smiled. "I believe you."
"Really? Then why can't I make magic like you?" Hope flared and wavered in her eyes.
"Because you're too young. You don't have the mana yet, so Firebolt won't fire." The limit was age and growth. Most classes—especially melee—don't really begin before sixteen or seventeen; bodies aren't ready to condense "skills" before that. Casters fare a bit better, but ten is still tender. Mana may be mental, but the body still bounds it.
"I see," Rhein said—happy simply that she hadn't let him down, even if she didn't truly grasp the mystery.
With time to spare, Gauss glanced at the girl sitting cross-legged in the grass. "Rhein, want to fly like a bird?"
"Eh?" She cocked her head. "I've… thought about it."
"Like this." He cast Feather Fall and Fly on himself and drifted up. Rhein's eyes went wide. "Give me your hand."
She scrubbed her palm on her clothes, then held it up. He took her cool fingers, laid Feather Fall and Fly onto her, and rose, drawing her with him.
She squeezed her eyes shut, lashes trembling, feeling herself lift faster and faster.
"Alright—open them."
He was steady enough with Fly now that a leisurely flight was no risk. Rhein peeked. Sky, endless and pure—bluer than any blue from the ground.
"So pretty."
Then she looked down—and dizziness shot through her. She gripped his hand tight.
"Easy—you won't fall," Gauss said. She hadn't touched mana yet, but he wanted her to feel its wonder. "Really?"
"Trust me." Fly's maintenance rested with him; held steady, she wouldn't drop even if she fainted—and if she did, he was there. He was faster anyway.
She let go—hesitantly—and just as he'd said, she kept floating. "So light…" Like cotton. Like a cloud.
"You can try moving. Up, down, left, right—just think it." At a thought, the magic around her answered and nudged her along—awkwardly, like a nestling's first flutter. "Ah—ah! Teacher, I'm doing it! I'm really flying!"
For a girl who'd never been beyond the village gate, something in her mind shattered and fell away. The whole village, once her world, shrank smaller than a fist. The vast land unfurled like a painting: the stream a silver ribbon, endless forest, blue hills in the distance like a sleeping dragon. Wind tugged her gold hair across her pale cheeks.
The world was so wide—and people could fly so high.
"Magic is wondrous, isn't it?" Gauss floated beside her, voice warm, sharing the view. "That's its meaning, Rhein: to see what others can't, to reach where others can't."
She nodded hard, cheeks flushed. Sunlight gilded his profile. A path lit up in her heart—she wanted to be a mage like him and travel this beautiful land.
"Thank you, Teacher!"
"Go for it," he said, ruffling her hair.
When his mana ran low, he brought her down. Feet on grass, she still felt a bit dazed—like waking from too-good a dream—yet the lightness in her limbs and the fresh memories told her it had been real. Her face shone with a new, vivid light. From now on, life would be different. Goat Village would remain home, but her world had already leapt past the wooden fence, into the vastness her teacher had opened.
She would never forget this day.
…
On the fourth day, Gauss and his companions mustered a dozen trainees at the gate and headed for the scrub woods northwest of the village. Today's plan: blood the trainees—lock in their monster-fighting skills in real combat.
"Sir Gauss, isn't it a bit soon?" the chief asked, worried. The village had repelled raids before—but from behind walls and with numbers. Pushing into the brush was another matter.
"It's not. Practice alone stays on paper. Better we're here to see them draw real steel," Gauss said, firm. Seeing he wouldn't bend, the chief only nodded—he understood, even if his grandson was among them.
"Rhein, stay with Sir Gauss. Don't run off. Don't cause trouble," urged a simple, kind couple—her parents—clutching her hands. Gauss glanced at the mother: golden hair like Rhein's; beauty and coloring clearly inherited. Not quite a farmer's look—then he chided himself. If they had backing, would they be here? Parents go where they must.
He smiled and nodded to them. Rhein trotted to his side and quietly took his hand. Other villagers watched with envy. Even the dullest had sensed Gauss's attention to Rhein; to rural eyes, being valued by such a man meant prospects rising like a kite.
They said their goodbyes and set off for the trees.
"Eyes up—watch the flanks; don't let anything circle behind. Jack—signs on the ground; prints and how fresh…"
They taught as they marched, leaving their own advanced senses aside to force basic observation.
After a while, they came to a cave. A few kobolds lounged in the clearing.
"Paw prints and droppings—call it a dozen, maybe twenty. More inside," Gauss whispered, pointing at the sign. "They pack together, sharp noses, small courage. We're downwind—why we can sit and watch."
"Remember: don't flinch. Shock and awe—noise and presence—will rattle them."
It was the trainees' first time in on a nest. They gripped their gear and nodded—pitchforks, iron shortswords, wooden shields, bows: all they had. Days of training didn't erase fear at a monster den's mouth.
"Alright—work it out. You're up." Gauss announced, "We won't step in. It's up to you."
A lie, of course. If lives were truly at stake, he wouldn't stand aside. But he wanted to see how they performed under pressure.
"Teacher, should I…?" Rhein asked softly, clutching a dagger.
"No. Stay with me. Watch. Listen." She'd likely take the path one day; seeing a fight now would help, but she was not to join.
She nodded vigorously, heart pounding, little fingers pinching his robe.
They'd rehearsed before. A teen "captain" signaled—and the fight began.
Thwip!
A handful of arrows hissed toward the kobolds. "Off," Gauss noted as they left the string. Still, for a first live shot after short training, not bad.
Spooked, the kobolds squealed; yellow ran down their legs. The shield line pushed, the second rank with forks and blades tight behind. Startled by 'trained' humans, the door guards tumbled for the cave to fetch the pack—only to meet a wall of bellowing villagers.
Courage surged as they shouted and, with backs turned before them, hacked with their not-quite-there [Diagonal Slash]. The form was bent, but the iron still bit. Blood sprayed. Others struck, and in moments numbers told, and the lookouts were down.
Rhein's breath hitched; her face went pale. Gauss glanced down and said nothing.
Alongside beautiful vistas, blood and fire are part of the journey. The world is both—beauty and cruelty separated by a line so thin it's almost nothing.
~~~
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