Chương 9: Why does your robe have so many pockets?

Fabrisse rummaged through his satchel.

"Hold on, I need to access my Inventory."

"Access your what?" Dubbie asked.

"Inventory. I need to do this properly."

"Your inventory?"

"Yes."

"What is an inventory?"

"A place where things are stored."

"That's called a cupboard. It's behind you," she said. But he was already at work. Dubbie watched as he pulled out his academic robe, shook it out, and slipped it on in record speed. He smoothed the sleeves straight, adjusted the collar so the sigil-thread faced forward, and re-fastened the clasp at the throat.

"You're already wearing a robe," she said.

"Yes," Fabrisse replied, affronted, "but not correctly." Dubbie sighed exasperatedly. He produced two stubby wax candles and set them on the floor on either side in front of him, then lit them as he explained,"Intent requires structure, otherwise the resonance disperses."

"Mm-hm." He took a breath, planted his feet, and raised his hands. The chant came out low and precise, the memorized couplet for basic aether storage, drilled into him during late-night study sessions and graded invocations:"By ordered will and sanctified sign, let named possession answer mine." Dubbie spoke, "What kind of chant—""Shhh." He traced a sigil in the air. The space in front of him remained obstinately empty. Fabrisse frowned and tried again, adding emphasis, a little more projection.

He could even see a spark of white aether dancing in his hand. White meant the aether formed without any emotion; nonetheless, it was a proof of a successful spell. Still, no new apparition jumped at him.

"Okay," he said.

"That's unexpected. What have I been doing wrong…" Dubbie stared at the setup.

"Have you tried just… thinking about it?"

"Thinking about what?"

"Your inventory. Whatever that is."

"That's not how aetheric access works. You need a framing ritual and a symbolic threshold. Mentor Lorvan says conceptual systems respond better when approached through structured invocation, otherwise you risk misalignment or—""But is this thing an aetheric construct?" she asked. He stopped. Then, after another second of thinking, he added, "I don't know. It hasn't responded to thaumaturgic invocations."

"Then just try," she added. His fingers and mouth twitched simultaneously. Reluctantly, he let the thought form. Inventory. A rectangular panel appeared in front of him with casual ease.

[Inventory Accessed] Storage slots: 8 / 15 filled Contents: — 1x Medarian River Pebble (Tagged: 'definitely magical') — 1x Backup Teacup (Chipped) — 1x Rune-Inked Paper — 1x Pocket Mortar (Steel) — 1x Pocket Pestle (Steel) — 1x Miniature Brass Balance — 1x Nested Measuring Spoon — 1x Rock Satchel (Extension)"It— it opened," he whispered. Why did thinking about the word Inventory do that? What was the logistics behind this?

"What opened?"

"The inventory."

"You are staring at a wall, Fabri. You didn't say anything," Dubbie noted.

"I didn't do anything," he said.

"It's in my mind."

"What?" Fabrisse waved a hand experimentally. The panel remained. His breath hitched.

"No. No, that's not right." Then he tried again, louder.

"Inventory." The panel dipped out of sight for a second, then refreshed. He still had a chipped teacup in his robe pocket.

"It… it says I've accessed Inventory!" Fabrisse stared at the glyph in awe before turning to Dubbie, who looked decidedly puzzled.

"I can't visualize anything if you don't describe it to me…" She pinched her own cheek, possibly out of exasperation. He pulled out a river pebble and a teacup from a robe pocket.

"Look! I hid a teacup inside my robe just in case and it acknowledged it!" Fabrisse pointed to the space above his head, then pulled out the rune-inked paper. He didn't even know he'd left it in his robe.

"It said 'Inventory Accessed.' That's a thing!" Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. She stared at him. Then at the empty space he was pointing to.

"Fabri," she said with deliberate slowness as if she was explaining the concept of the universe to a three-year-old, "Why does your robe have so many pockets?" The Academy-provided robes came with two inner pockets for quills and maybe a talisman, if you were lucky. Fabrisse, however, had… modified his. Enchantment students weren't allowed to alter their uniforms without faculty approval, technically.

But sometime last term, Fabrisse had found a discarded seamstitcher charm in the Salvage Wing's lost-and-found drawer (wedged between a sandwich and a honking rubber duck, possibly some student's failed experiment).

After a few after-curfew experiments and the accidental fusing of his left sleeve to a desk, he'd managed to weave in five extra hidden compartments, each rune-lined and spatially expanded to accommodate his growing collection of smooth rocks, weird shells, expired potion vials, and other Important Scientific Samples™.

"It's where this glyph stores stuff!" he said.

"Apparently, I've got slots. I didn't know I had slots." Or what it meant, for that matter.

"Uh… Okay. So you've got this imaginary catalogue with 'slots'."

"Yes."

"What else does this imaginary catalogue say you've got?"

"Oh!" Fabrisse perked.

"I need to access Quests, too." Dubbie was murmuring something about giving up, but Fabrisse had already moved on. But is it actually that easy? It was that easy. He simply thought about Quests, and the quest apparition showed up. He had no active quest, however, whatever that was. Fabrisse stared at the hovering quest pane until the letters began to blur. He stood there for a moment, hands clenched at his sides, very aware of the fact that there were other 'tabs', as Eidralith called it.

He could feel them the way he could feel the doors to a practical examination hall before they opened: dreadful. And there lay the most unsettling tab: Affinities. Why does it look so casual? Affinities were measured with rigorous exams, interpreted by senior thaumaturges, argued over in committees. Entire academic tracks lived or died on them. You didn't just check your affinities like you were checking the weather. He checked it anyway.

[Affinity Accessed] Primary Affinities (Foundational elemental resonance) Secondary Affinities (Derived from mastery of one or more Primary elements) Tertiary Affinities (Require at least one Secondary + additional elements) Quaternary Affinities (Require at least one Tertiary + additional elements) He wanted to open the tab that said 'Primary Affinities', but stopped himself. What if it was empty? He could already see the chart in his head: a blank column where his name should have been.

If it was empty, it wouldn't be his fault. Affinity wasn't something you chose. But it would still be his problem. He would still be expected to work around it. There were worse possibilities, too. What if his affinities were too fragmented? What if he could resonate with fire, but it was in too trace an amount to amount to anything? What if— Dubbie waved a hand through the space in front of his face.

"Fabri? Hello? If you're going to stare at the air for five minutes, you have got to at least narrate what's happening. I'm not psychic." He flinched.

"I—" He swallowed. His voice came out thin.

"There's a menu."

"Yes, you said that already."

"No. I mean. There are categories I'm supposed to look at." He gestured helplessly at the hovering text.

"And one of them is… academically ruinous."

"Are you bleeding?"

"No."

"On fire?"

"No."

"Hopelessly in love?" He winced.

"No."

"Then what's the matter? You're doing great." He stayed silent. She sighed, placing a hand on her hip.

"Is it this business with your affinity again? You've already established you have virtually no affinity with any element bar Earth. Just look at it. It won't ruin you twice." He winced harder, but opened the tab anyway. He checked it anyway. [Primary Affinities Accessed] Aether: 32% Earth: 38% Air: 15% Fire: 8% Water: 0% You didn't have to gut me with that note, Eidralith…

"Hmm? So?" Dubbie asked.

"My Fire affinity is good enough for academic trivia," Fabrisse admitted.

"I don't even have a Fire affinity, so you're good. Don't you have, like, a Secondary Affinity as well? Stone?" He let out a slow breath.

"Might as well check, I suppose." He checked it anyway.

[Secondary Affinities Accessed] [Air Derived] Sound: 0% (Prerequisite: Air) [Earth Derived] Stone: 44% (Prerequisite: Earth) Crystal: 0% (Prerequisite: Earth) [Fire Derived] Ash: 0% (Prerequisite: Fire) Light: 0% (Prerequisite: Fire) [Water Derived] Ice: 0% (Prerequisite: Water) [Multi-Prerequisite Affinities] Steam: 0% (Prerequisite: Air + Water) Lightning: 0% (Prerequisite: Air + Fire) Sand: 0% (Prerequisite: Air + Earth) Mud: 0% (Prerequisite: Earth + Water) Clay: 0% (Prerequisite: Earth + Fire) Lava: 0% (Prerequisite: Fire + Water) Acid: 0% (Prerequisite: Air + Fire + Water) Wood: 0% (Prerequisite: Air + Earth + Water) Smoke: 0% (Prerequisite: Air + Earth + Fire) Metal: 0% (Prerequisite: Earth + Fire + Water) Flux: 0% (Prerequisite: Air + Earth + Fire + Water) He stared at the list, in awe at the sheer thoroughness of it.

Even combinations he had never seriously considered were listed there, patiently enumerated, zeroed, catalogued. Eidralith hadn't missed anything, and it sure hadn't miss him only resonating with a single secondary affinity. He had already known that much, but it turned out that knowing something did not make it lighter to see. He checked the Tertiary Affinities, not expecting anything. The tab expanded. It was longer than the last one. He skimmed it without reading. The percentages were all fixed at zero.

Every entry depended on foundations he did not have. Predictable. That was, until he scrolled down to the very last entry: Shadow: 52% (Prerequisite: Smoke + Sound)