Chương 22: Book 2 Chapter 3: Little Jimmy went to school, lalalala

If Jim was expecting any quick progress from the detective, then the next week disabused him of this notion. He tested out of Combat Magic 1, as was only proper, this time decisively beating out Herus for the spot and almost pushing Chemirk down to third place. No pigeon. He attended the first lecture of Divination class and succeeded in the exercise which allowed him to turn his mana transparent. No pigeon. A fire erupted at a fabric factory in the Mitelosian district and nearly burned down a whole street.

No pigeon. He suffered through two lectures on External Mana Awareness, or rather, mana sensing, letting professor Waters spew phrases such as; "You must feel what is not felt and turn outwards what was once inwards" and "There is no true delineation between you and the material, simply a subjective identity of which the breach is but a change of thinking pattern away." No pigeon.

"When is that bastard finally going to do something," Jim muttered in the library, finally finishing the book on the calamity that he'd started on the day of his arrival in Sredina.

"Which bastard?" a female voice asked from one desk down with a tired voice. Jim turned his head and threw a scathing glare at the girl he recognised from his last attempt to flee the city. Katniss, something.

"None of your business," he said.

"You've been cursing out this slow bastard everyday for the last week," Katniss complained.

"Don't you think you should be more quiet in a library?"

"Go read somewhere else," Jim replied evenly. The history section of the library was, as always, deserted.

"Everywhere else is full," the brunette informed him, pointing idly through the many shelves dividing them from any sort of real activity.

"You're not even reading history books," Jim shot back.

"Not simple enough for you?" he asked, glancing pointedly at the thin booklet the girl was reading. Simple rituals for simple people.

"I've finished ten books in the time you finished one, if anything, we're reading at the same pace," the girl pointed out, affronted.

"Whatever," Jim said as he rolled his eyes and stood up.

"I'll see you in Combat Magic 2," he said, before pausing with a sardonic grin.

"Oh, wait, I won't," he finished with a laugh and walked off. If he remembered correctly, Katniss never joined him in that class. Which, to be honest, said all that needed to be said about her talent, or rather, lack thereof.

"Idiot," he heard the girl mutter behind him as he left. Jim could only roll his eyes at that comment, seeing it as beneath him to answer. Him not telling her that the Black Ouroboros meeting she was going to attend in a few days was a trap was revenge enough. He had lunch to eat, and some spells to practice. His appetite had increased considerably since he'd started taking his magical education more seriously.

It was as he exited the library and stood on its steps that his eyes were inadvertently drawn to that blank piece of wall he'd once seen the headmaster disappear into. The academy was busy now, students and instructors always rushing to and fro. If that wasn't the case he might have gone there to test himself against the illusion with his newly gained expertise in mana sensing. Instead he simply scoffed and left for the canteen. His time would come, everything would come to light.

He had a minion now and that minion was going to do something! Probably… -/- More weeks passed without receiving a winged messenger. Perhaps because of idle curiosity, or rather, a burning need to know that Jim found himself in the Mitelosian part of Sredina standing in front of a run-down looking inn. He scowled and reluctantly pushed open the wooden front door, entering the small grimy space.

His presence, as was only proper, drew the gazes of all the working class and some doubtlessly criminal elements sitting at their tables and sipping at a truly foul-smelling alcoholic tincture that Jim could only assume was fermented piss. He strode forward until he reached the counter where an old fat man with barely any hair left was idly wiping down some dirty glasses. It likely didn't help that the rag itself was dirty, which made the entire show highly sisyphean.

"A room for the night," Jim said neutrally.

"With or without dinner and a drink?" the man slurred with unfocused eyes, clearly drunk on the job. Or maybe that was just how he usually looked and talked, Jim couldn't tell, nor did he care.

"Just the room."

"That'll be one silver." Jim sneered.

"You'll take four coppers and thank me for it, I do not wish to be disturbed." The innkeeper narrowed his eyes, seemed to sulk for a moment, before shrugging and bending down to take a key from underneath the counter. His fingers caught the coppers Jim threw with a dexterity that belied their sausage like appearance and led Jim up two flights of creaky stairs away from the gazes of the inn's other patrons.

The innkeeper used the key in his hand to open the last door on the corridor, revealing a room that didn't have a ceiling as much as it was simply directly underneath the roof of the whole inn. Triangular and thus narrow, it only had enough space for one straw bed, a small chest and a chamber pot.

"The indignities I heap upon myself for the safety of humanity," Jim sighed, took the key and closed the door behind him, reluctantly sitting on the bed. A tiny round hole provided airflow, and could be closed with a shutter. The view, coincidentally, was perfect, pointing exactly at the abandoned church that was once a tribute to the god of transformation. -/- Divination was a branch of magic that followed the exact same principles as most magic did.

Familiarity eased use, distance limited effectiveness and shaping impacted spell success Jim kept these things in mind as he kept watch in the disgustingly small room and pulled out the wooden bowl that he'd brought with him for this occasion. He laid it on the floor, before filling it to the half-way point with a container of water that he'd brought along too, not trusting the inn to have clean water available. Going by the conditions of the inn, he'd probably been right.

A swish of Jim's fingers created the transparent circular pane of mana above the now still water and he started reciting a mnemonic spell device to aid himself in the casting of the magic. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The things I see I will not share, for I'm as flighty as a hare. Reveal to me the hidden truth, so that I may keep my precious youth.

Spell incantations, just like gestures of the fingers and of the hands were a crutch for those yet unfamiliar with certain spells. As one grew in competence, they would fall away like they had for Jim's use of the basic four and his combat magic. The incantation he'd picked for this attempt in particular further contained a restriction that forbade him from sharing whatever information he gleaned through use of the spells.

Restrictive, yes, but something that he'd need to have a chance of observing something relatively far away. The trick was of course that he'd already seen a version of the meeting he was trying to spy on, and thus, not all that he would see through the simple scrying would be constrained by that restriction, only whatever new information he gleaned.

Jim felt the spell ripple across reality like the oscillations of tiny waves when a small stone dropped in the sea, a feeling he was still getting used to, sensing mana. A slowly brightening darkness revealed itself in the water bowl scrutinised under his gaze. He saw torches, hooded figures, a pedestal with wine bottles and candles. A large circular room hidden at the bottom of the church.

Familiarity eased use, and by casting the spell to observe a space he had already witnessed in his visions, at a time that he had already lived through in those visions, the things possible for him extended past the usual restrictions of divination. Similarly, he was close, very, very close to the event he was spying on. His shaping and spell familiarity were likely the worst of the three factors but the other two conditions being fulfilled helped prop him up.

Jim critically analysed the group of people, those who weren't covering themselves, that he could see in the small reflection. It looked, for all intents and purposes, the same as the time that he'd attended in the vision. He wondered for a moment, curious, why there wasn't a ward against scrying set up, before rationalising the thought away with the conclusion that a ward would inevitably reveal any clandestine activity due to its mana signature. Talking about mana signatures…

Jim saw a red robed figure with long black hair enter his view in the large room and step forward to the pedestal. His heart immediately started beating faster as he saw Alice. However, there was still a quickness of heart undiscovered, as he found out the moment that Alice, instead of looking at the gathered mass of people, instead, looked up at the ceiling. Right. At. Jim. Jim swung his arm and cut the connection, feeling like his heart was going to jump out of his chest.

He stood up shakily, went over to the small hole in the wooden wall and looked out just in time to see a dozen or so dark figures along with one wearing purple robes enter the church and disappear inside.

"So if there's no interference, like me telling Alice to be careful, the headmaster catches her here," Jim muttered quietly, before quickly dumping the water in the bowl into the chamber pot and picking up his utensils. Then he left the room, snuck his way downstairs, cringing at every creak of the stairs and exited the inn through the backdoor. He'd observed undisturbed. Now, it was time to run towards the academy.

After all, Jim knew where the headmaster was going to be the next few hours, and that gave him a window of opportunity. His mana sensing had improved, or rather, developed from nothing in the last weeks. Surely enough to trump some fragile wards put up at the academy walls, right? -/- Jim rushed through the streets as fast as his legs could carry him. The secret meeting had been scheduled very late at night, but not so late that the doors to the academy were yet closed. If he hurried, that was.

That was why he ignored the burning of his lungs and the pain in his hamstrings, only allowing himself to decelerate once the academy gates, still open for another ten minutes by his estimates, came into view. He walked, nonchalantly despite there being no students present, and slipped onto the premises, making a bee-line towards the wall that he'd seen the headmaster disappear into all those weeks ago. It was, of course, at that moment that a pigeon flew and landed unceremoniously on his shoulder.

It was rather small, rather grey, and rather unassuming. Jim was glad there were no students present to see him associate with it. Then it did something that he was even more glad there were no others to witness. It spoke.

"I verified what you said," the pigeon said in Harry's deep voice, almost comically.

"Meet me immediately. There are bigger problems at hand than you might suspect. I will be waiting in front of your dormitory." The pigeon froze for a second, little claws digging into Jim's shoulder, looked around confusedly, gave a loud squawk, and flew off.

"Tonight is the only night," Jim muttered through gritted teeth, throwing one last look around to make sure he was alone as he walked into the thicket of trees obscuring the part of the academy walls where he'd seen the headmaster. He reached the cold grey stone quickly, put his hand on the rock, felt nothing, then extended his newly gained senses as far as he could. What he felt then most urgently was not the presence of mana in the stones, which there certainly was.

No, what Jim felt most strongly was the cloying presence of magic in the form of a person right behind him. A hand suddenly clasped his left shoulder, causing Jim to freeze and give a small yelp. The feeling of the magic. He already suspected, but was afraid to verify. Regardless, he looked down, saw the skeletal appearance of the hand, all gleaming white bones and menacing grip.

"Now what do we have here," professor Quatzel said cheerfully from behind him.

"It seems someone is investigating, but well, that's dangerous, no?" he continued, voice turning more menacing every syllable.

"After all, the thing an investigator should fear the most is finding something…" A pause.

"Don't you think so?"