Chương 2: Scientists borrowed reagents all the time

Half a bell later, Fabrisse was exactly where Mentor Lorvan had expected he'd end up: in Professor Cakil's repurposed storage room, once again violating several regulations in ways the Classification Manual had neglected to anticipate. The Unified Synod of Thaumaturgic Study forbade three things above all else. First, summoning extraplanar entities. Second, unsanctioned artifact research. Third, combining the first two while indoors. Fabrisse Kestovar considered himself comfortably within regulations.

Every pertinent element of the Synod's Classification Manual stated that his Stupenstone was a rock. A particularly boring rock, to be perfectly frank. And since a previous experiment had replaced a respectable portion of the ceiling with open sky, the question of whether the makeshift laboratory counted as 'indoors' had become a matter of spirited debate among the maintenance staff. At some point, rocks had become the dominant feature of his workspace. Every horizontal surface held some variety of stone.

Three notebooks lay open at the same time because Fabrisse insisted each represented 'a different stage of the same thought,' which made perfect sense if one happened to be Fabrisse. Glass vials teetered in towers that should've collapsed days ago. Somehow they'd survived. The pastries hadn't. They had become part of the geology. Nonetheless, Professor Demir Cakil had ratified the room as adequate for independent study.

He absently deposited the half-eaten merryberry pastry Cakil had insisted he take atop a stack of geological journals, where it immediately joined two fossilized predecessors. The pie would remain there until either he rediscovered it by accident several months later or future archaeologists concluded that sweet pastries had once reproduced by budding.

"They're all wrong." Now possessing a free hand, he raised his precious dull grey stone. Stupenstones, officially catalogued as Silico-Dormant Obscura, were once more chosen as the focus of experimentation for the day. They did nothing. They did not store magic. They did not amplify spells. They did not react to heat, cold, lightning, moonlight, sunlight, concentrated emotion, diluted emotion, improperly filed ritual petitions, or exceptionally persuasive arguments. Two centuries.

That was how long the Geological Wing had been insisting the stone was useless. Fabrisse intended to correct the record before lunch. Uncorking another vial, he noted,"Sample Forty-Two. Pulverized moon-quartz. Trace silver. Three drops of distilled luminite solution." He sprinkled the powder across the stone. It remained predictably inert. Shame. Maybe luminite solution had been yet another failure. There was no way something as ordinary as sparkling water could trigger a reaction— The Stupenstone glowed.

Fabrisse leaned forward until his nose was nearly touching the rock.

"It reacted. It actually reacted." He snatched the nearest notebook. Two others immediately sacrificed themselves to the floor. Experiment 247 Result: Observable luminescence. Duration approximately 0. 8 seconds. Previous assumption that Stupenstone possesses zero thaumaturgic resonance is therefore... His heart threatened to perforate his ribcage. He crossed out correct and replaced it with incorrect.

"Yes!" He sprang to his feet. His chair collapsed behind him.

"I knew it!" He knew it. The Geological Wing had been criminally remiss in investigating the practical applications of the mineral. Apart from that one offensively condescending appendix titled On the Persistent Myth of Stupenstone Utility, there had barely been any serious research at all. A baffling state of affairs it was. Had they devoted to research for, say, three years and fourteen days like he had, they might well have discovered something useful, like how it reacted to aether.

"It reacts to aether..." He stopped.

"It also..." He looked back at the stone.

"It reacts to aether." He stood stock-still.

"That's all it does." The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. But it didn't matter, did it? Research didn't have to be practical. If tomorrow someone proved that frogs became seven percent greener whenever Archmagus Rolen sneezed, the discovery would contribute absolutely nothing to civilization while still earning its discoverer a respectable publication in the Journal of Unexpected Thaumaturgic Phenomena.

Practical applications were, academically speaking, tomorrow's problem. A knock resounded.

"Kestovar." Fabrisse recoiled. He recognized the voice all too well. It somehow possessed the remarkable ability to sound disappointed in people at conversational volume. The door swung open. Severa Montreal stepped inside with the same easy poise she seemed to bring everywhere. Her academy robes were a particular brand of immaculate that made Fabrisse vaguely wonder whether dust simply apologized and left when she walked by.

The dust he wasn't sure about, but her ink-black curls had definitely made some sort of demonic bargain beforehand. Every strand was perfectly over her left shoulder, exactly where it belonged. She stared at him. Objectively, most people would've called her eyes exquisite. Rich crimson, like sealing wax and old royal banners, they were the inherited mark of House Montreal. They also had the unfortunate flaw of looking disconcertingly official.

There was nothing enjoyable about feeling perpetually appraised for workmanship whenever she looked at him.

"Instructant Tan sent me," she said.

"He was wondering where you are."

"I'll come later." How did she even find me? Why did Instructant Tan send her? We don't go to the same class. It was a question Fabrisse had asked himself many times over the years. The Synod covered enough ground to lose several respectable villages inside it, yet somehow Severa always managed to locate him, whether he was buried in the Geological Archives, halfway down the North Pond collecting rocks, or hiding in whatever god-forsaken storage room Professor Cakil had most recently entrusted to him.

More surprisingly, she had bothered. A few months ago, she'd been angry enough to stop speaking to him altogether. Apparently she had recovered just enough to resume disapproving of him.

"This is your Fire Practical, you know."

"I-I'm busy."

"Busy?" She folded her arms.

"Too busy to attend your own Fire Examination?" Fabrisse straightened so abruptly his fallen chair nearly collapsed a second time. Oh no. The Fire Exam.

"Fail twice more and you're expelled." Her tone remained perfectly even.

"Have you finally realized you're wasting the Synod's resources and decided to save everyone the trouble?"

"I... I'll come."

"Good." Her gaze swept across the room, to the rocks, the powders, the notebooks, the ritual circle, then back to him.

"Alchemy and artifact research are forbidden within Synod grounds," she remarked. He already knew that. He had, after all, been the reason she'd gotten into trouble for breaking exactly that rule a year ago. He chose not to answer. She stared at the Stupenstone like she was trying to bore a hole out of it.

"You're still trying to make that stupid rock work?" He remained silent. Whatever answer he gave would inevitably become evidence that he was wrong. Experience had taught him silence was usually the cheaper option.

"It reacted," he said eventually.

"So?"

"It reacted."

"It is but a waste of time. There's a reason nobody practices Stone Thaumaturgy."

"Well, empirically, 0. 7% of all thaumaturges either took up Stone as an elective or—""Hush. Why do you even bother arguing?" She placed her index finger over her lips.

"Even if your little lump of rock reacts to aether... what does it actually do? It doesn't do anything. Most rocks don't." She was right, if only partially. Publishing one obscure mineralogical observation wouldn't save his scholarship or erase four years of failed practicals. Four years. Four years that should've been spent mastering Fire, Air, Water, Emotional Regulation... He'd spent four years failing every single practical subject for this.

It had to produce something practical, or he might actually be expelled at the end of the semester. She stared at the experiment long enough to take in every ingredient on the workbench. Then she turned toward the door.

"Looks like it needs Aetheric Catalysis Dust."

"Maybe. That will amplify whichever reaction most materials give." She nodded.

"Practical begins in ten minutes." Then she walked away. The room became quiet again. Only Fabrisse and four years of questionable life decisions remained. He stared at the Stupenstone.

"But I'm about to..." He looked toward the door.

"... break through." He sighed. Not that it mattered. There wasn't enough Aetheric Catalysis Dust in the entire Synod for students like him. Even if there had been, the cost alone would have put it far beyond anything he could hope to afford. He extinguished the chalk circle, gathered his notebooks, and slung the satchel over his shoulder. As he reached the doorway, something caught his eye. A small leather pouch, resting quietly on the floor. He frowned.

"Did... Montreal drop this?" He picked it up. The label read: Aetheric Catalysis Dust. Of course she'd have some. Severa could have the Grand Luminary Sanctum inside her pocket if she'd wanted and she had experimented with artifacts years before he'd even understood the underlying theory. He should return it. He really should. Fabrisse looked down the corridor. She was already gone.

"I could just..." He loosened the drawstring.

"One pinch." Surely she wouldn't notice one pinch. Scientists borrowed reagents all the time. He walked back to the bench and applied a careful sprinkle of silver-grey dust over the Stupenstone. He waited, and waited, and waited. The glow never came. The room remained roofless and obstinately unremarkable.

"Oh." Perhaps everyone else had been right.

"Stupid rock." He dropped the Stupenstone into his satchel. The instant it disappeared within— It gave off a flash. He gave off a yell. The laboratory vanished. [Item Crafted: Glowing Stupenstone] Artifact Classification Updated Artifact Key Acquired