Fortunately, the situation was cleared up quite quickly. Octavian and Jartor were old friends and peers of a similar age, not unlike Iscari and Tyr. They both expected their sons to become brothers in proper oath as they had, and to keep this promise through their primacy. Everything was going fairly well.

Octavian had apologized profusely, with Jartor waving his concerns off. It was Tyr who had made the challenge, and Tyr who had lost. In a single blow. If anything, he should be apologizing for his son's poor exhibition. He was, however, a bit amused and impressed that his son had done it. Done it, taken responsibility for it, and stubbornly refused to apologize for it. Jartor chuckled, remembering his competitive streak with Octavian, they'd gotten into a few brawls themselves. Accidentally shattered an island and made up some story about a 'monster' to shed blame. The good old days, filling him with nostalgia.

After the line of communication was cut, Octavian pondered the report given to him by both his boy and the academy. No students had witnessed it, which was good. His son was too strong and he did not want this information to spread to the neighboring kingdoms. They would try to get in his ear and manipulate him, and Octavian was no longer there to ensure this didn't happen. Iscari was too soft.

It didn't matter if he was stronger than the scion of House Faeron or not. There could be no war between empires, ever again. Varia was large and wealthy enough as it is. His father had once possessed ambitions beyond their borders – but Octavian did not. The twin empires existed in a proper state of balance and he loved Jartor like a brother. A continuance of this bond down their line, reminiscent of that shared by Haran and Oresund, would ensure Varian perpetuity.

What he was interested in most was Tyr, and this power of his. One he'd never heard of, the ability to heal from any wound including a decapitation. Primus' possessed a healing factor universally, they were for all intent and purposes superhuman. Octavian's own was quite impressive, but he was not able to regrow limbs and organs from nothing. He'd lost a hand during a duel with Jartor in their youth and only magic could reattach it. If, in the event that something powerful enough came along to say – incinerate the limb – he wasn't sure if it could be fixed, even by magic.

If this son of Jartor were to come into his true powers as a primus with this ability – he would be unstoppable. According to his intelligence, Octavian had been notified that he was capable of spellbreaking. One day, he would be immune to curses, existing in a perpetual state. This vitality had to have defining force, these phenomena always did. It had to be related to an aspect. And there were implications, a source of infinite medical advancement. Octavian was more... Academically inclined than his oath brother. Wondering if Tyr would be immune to viruses and poisons as they were. If only he could be pulled apart and studied, perpetual cellular regeneration at a base that defied natural law could be the key to everything. Manufactured immortality, a cure to all diseases, regrowing organs for transplant rather than chancing a delicate arcane procedure...

As a primus first and an academic second, Octavian felt the urge to study this power. He, more than Tyr himself in all likelihood, was desperate to know of the boy's aspect. Octavian sighed.

The opportunity would never come, even if the boy consented to it. First, there was Jartor, and second...

We cannot risk losing another primus. But is he primus at all?

–

“Hmm...” Iscari combed through all of his collective memories. Every lesson and lecture he'd been forced to sit through. Every dusty old tome. “I see what you mean.” He was drawing a blank. While aware of the world energy phenomena as all primus' were supposed to be – he did not refine it. He didn't need to, and wouldn't see much gain in doing so.

His own world energy wasn't nearly as large and enveloping as that of their respective sires – but it was dense and whole, sitting in perfect balance with his mana core. Unlike Tyr.

Iscari was supremely confident that if anything like this had ever happened before, the creature born with such a deformity would be long dead. It was unnatural and ensured that Tyr was not in proper control of his mana when he attempted to reach for higher spells. This process had warped his core and damaged the circuits by which mana traveled through the body. Less than damaged... They weren't frayed, it was like there were too many of them. Instead of a single vein running through each limb his entire body looked like shattered glass.

Stuck at the level one standard at the age of eighteen, it was odd. Mages never stopped developing, ever, contrary to what the colleges said. That was why old men tended to become stronger while their bodies withered. Their mana core wouldn't advance, but the circuits that carried the energy through their body would widen and increase in number like countless capillaries as they used magic. That was the general consensus of things, and world energy was supposed to benefit the process by strengthening the body and temper it's ability to hold mana. What Tyr called 'cultivation', passive development through a lifetime of experience using magic. It was a wonder that the man wasn't dead, turned to dust by all the mana his body released through the excessive channels.

Tyr, comparatively, could be said to have the body of a mage that had lived several centuries. He had so many channels by which his mana could be transited. But this didn't make him stronger, it was an obstacle that Iscari had no answer for. More channels didn't mean one was stronger, it meant the mana leaving the body was too thin to be good for anything. Without the gradual process of refinement, he'd never be able to use real magic. Tyr conveniently left out the fact that he was dying. He wanted it to remain a secret as long as he could so as to avoid anything unnecessary.

It's like his world energy was stronger at some point. To the point where it deformed the mana core and threw it off balance... How is that possible? If I didn't know better, I'd think someone did this to him on purpose.

Primus' didn't change much over time. They did not age and grow infirm, nor did they earn their abilities in the traditional sense of the word. It wasn't through hard work, but birthright. Iscari trained as often as he could to fulfill his duties, but irrespective of increasing his magical acumen, he had never needed to. Whereas Tyr had been working hard for nearly a year and made only small gains.

All that seemed to be keeping him alive was the bizarre ability to heal. As it was, the backwash of conflicting energies should be destroying his body from the inside out.

Did his body evolve this ability to sustain itself? If so, maybe my father was right.

Octavian's grimoire contained some notes on it, though they were fragmented considering their lack of actionable data. Any mage on the planet would give their limbs to glance at the knowledge inscribed on those pages by a two centuries old primus. His father proposed that primus' were like the carp in the fish bowl. Growing only to fit their environment. As in, they would only ever become as powerful as they needed to be.

Through adversity, they might wax or wane as time went on. Their power came from their aspect and some of these things had 'seasons' of sorts. Times, places, or events might influence an aspect – but nobody knew why. In any event, they didn't 'adapt' and change over time in any significant way. Octavian seemed intent to debunk this assertion, through whatever means he could.

“You know...” Iscari had an idea. “You said you were in the enchanting class, right?”

“Yes.” Tyr replied. “I failed the first three exams I took though, so...”

“Really?” It was news to Iscari, he hadn't been required to take a single exam beyond the first to enter the academy. And that was just a rating procedure that he'd breezed through in a tenth of the time of anyone else. During the first two weeks, students were required to test into their vocations so that their academic advisor could select the ideal courses for them.

Enchantment, for example, was a wide field. There was the bardic path – songcraft, elemental enchantment, warding, herald, all the theoretical fields... The list went on. A 'school' was only a general primer for the application or greater approach toward magic.

Some would become scribes and create magic scrolls, others would throw their mind toward the vocations of an artisan and craft artifacts. Some would be bards or support mages lending power to others. Enchanters were very important, and could be seen as one of the easiest paths to take if one wanted for profit. It wasn't very popular with younger students though, due to the complexity and lack of perceived flashiness.

Transmutation for example could achieve similar effects more easily for the average mage, without need of complex formulas or favorable conditions. Enchantment was arguably the most important discipline of magic in the modern era. Evokers and conjurers could freely summon etheric energies, but wars were uncommon these days and battlemages were a dime a dozen. Everyone wanted to be capable of blowing stuff up, but achieving greatness by following the beaten path was not so easy. Most evokers ended up working in the mana reactors or laboring. Adventuring was always a possibility but for all its romance, almost 70% of all new registered adventurers quit in their first year. Once they realized it wasn't a game and there was more money to be made elsewhere with far less risk.

“No matter.” Iscari waved his inner monologue away. He had little interest in the school beyond the creation or dissection of magic wards, opting to self study rather than stay longer than he had to. He'd only come here to spend time with Tyr, and perhaps experience a bit of youth away from his father. “Have you considered creating an anchor to stabilize your power?”

“An anchor?” Tyr asked. They found themselves once again segregated to their own table as students stared at them. It was always like this. Nobody approached either to bother or befriend them anymore, which suited Tyr just fine. They were all too afraid of Iscari.

“Of course.” Iscari found his ignorance a near infinite source of amusement. Coming to the academy, anxious at the idea of facing stiff competition for the first time in his life. He'd expected a lot more. It was unfortunate, realizing that Tyr was so far behind him, but he didn't let this impact his personal opinion. It wasn't the worst thing, having actual conversations with his oldest friend. Despite having plastered the other man against a wall, their dynamic hadn't changed. Tyr didn't fear him, and spoke to him now more than ever, and that was worth being thankful for. “Not all mages are born with strong mana cores, but they achieve great things by making up for their weaknesses with magic foci or related artifacts.”

“Rune knights.” Tyr nodded. That's what they called them in Haran, at least. Fairly weak battlemages who made up for their weaknesses with magical items. Training at length to master all manner of enchanted tools to become the equal to any other mage through effort. Or... Mountains of gold. Tiber had, at one point, been one such individual. Though in his land they were referred to them as sicario or artificio. Sicario's were named for the defunct knightly order that had once existed.

“Indeed, it doesn't solve your greater problem regarding your imbalance but it might help you become a bit more useful. Stabilizing your magic so that you can reach the level two standard – maybe even level three after some tuning. It's not usually so easy as picking one up and casting spells, for you I doubt you'll benefit from anything but a custom artifact. But it is possible, albeit expensive.”

“You're so talented. It pisses me off.” Tyr grumbled. Two weeks didn't seem like much. It was an incredibly short period of time given the grand scheme of things. Even in that small amount of time, though, Tyr had noticed the shaking of his hands become more infrequent the more time he spent with Iscari. There was a gentle warmth to the other man that made him feel comfortable, washing away some of his anxieties. He was easy to talk to and when the situation became awkward, Iscari would always have some kind of plan or diversion. Helping Tyr set goals and advise without condescension.

And through this, for some reason, Tyr felt motivation burning inside of him. A sort of ambition to push forward five times as hard. Just to ensure that Iscari's faith wasn't misplaced, to prove his friend right and vindicate all the effort.

“I'm really glad that we met. Thank you for being my friend.” Tyr's cheeks reddened. It felt uncomfortable to say these things and project these thoughts, but he was beginning to learn a bit from the other man about how he was supposed to act. Iscari said friends shared their thoughts, so Tyr would try his best to do that.

Iscari blushed at that to make their faces a matching set. To be spoken to like real person... He felt appreciated not because he was a primus, but rather praised for genuine effort. Something he'd actually influenced rather than been born to. “Me too.” All he could do was smile, absentmindedly picking at his food and wondering just how exactly Tyr had moved on to his fifth plate without any signs of stopping. Maybe that was his aspect.

–

Coincidentally, Tyr's first specialized class after the syllabus period was intermediate runecrafting. Artificers could be broken up into a wide variety of fields, and runecrafting in particular was seen as an inferior or lesser school of study. A workshop for weak mages who lacked the control necessary to infuse mana directly into focal sockets, gemstones or circuits and the like.

In the recent era, enchanters who chose the path of artifice were moving on from runes and beginning to follow other paths. It was a commonly belief that everything there was to know about runecrafting was already known. One of the few, if not the only tree of magic, that had hit its assumed ceiling. Serving as little more than a source of mass produced dimensional artifacts and enchanted steel for knights too poor to afford anything better.

Not as celebrated as elemental enchantment or alchemy, it might be 'lesser' but it was far from useless. After all, nearly every enchanted item carried by your average person was created by a runesmith. It possessed a utility and versatility that ensured it would stay relevant into the far future, capable of creating items with a specific purpose via, as the name implied, runes. Elemental enchanters created objects that typically ran on 'charges'. While at times incredibly powerful, they had a finite amount of uses until the object became inert and needed to be recharged again.

The problem lay in the fact that these smiths would carve runes directly onto an object. Whether that be a sword or axe, to enhance sharpness or durability, or ironwood so as to make such a brittle material flexible enough to make a bow, ship mast, or shield These objects were not particular expensive, and elemental foci embedded in a similar artifact could achieve thrice the yield with less work or materials necessary via the inscription of gems instead.

Failure was also a problem with runesmithing. It was a lot easier to resurface a gemstone than put all of that work into a worthless artifact and have to reforge it. Inscribed gems could serve as a less expensive alternative to the main material. Steel could be given properties that would challenge any mithril blade at a fraction of the cost. The floor for runesmithing was dirt cheap, but the ceiling could bankrupt even the most affluent noble families.

Hence, jewel-crafting was the 'popular' field of study for students of talent. There was a cost component to the decision. Three ingots of mithril necessary to create a sword or shield would sell at a premium, if you could even buy it. Whereas a handful of intermediate gemstones such a rubies or sapphires were both cheaper and one had no need for the skills of a blacksmith to forge the body of the weapon to begin with. All you had to do was purchase an already forged sword, and slot an inscribed gem into it.

The more advanced the metal was in terms of mana capacity, the more enchantments it could bear before warping or shattering entirely. All materials had a tolerance for the energy they were able to pull from the atmospheric around them, and would buckle if that threshold was passed.

That was the way Tyr understood it, listening to a TA drone on about the class. Even communication devices held by those who could afford them were powered by gemstones. Runeforged artifacts were seen as 'cheap', budget items these days.

Runes in magic were a series of instructions to generate phenomena, and it was the same with runesmithing. Programming an item to perform the task it was intended for. Dimensional storage items were the most common and some of the easiest to inscribe, and that was typically where they started.

All metals, regardless of their mana capacity, had their own unique properties making them more appropriate for one thing or another. Copper possessed an ability beyond most other easily sourced materials for creating circuits. It didn't have the capacity that most other metals did, but few things conducted as well as copper. Worth noting, it was very cheap. Complex devices would often use copper wiring to transmit mana from one place to another without need for forcing it to run through a homogeneous hunk of silver or steel.

Something about the malleability of the material, a perfect combination of density and conductivity that gave it this property. Otherwise, with few exceptions, it followed fairly standard protocol with the worth of the material predicated on its mana conductivity. Iron, copper, silver, gold, platinum, mithril, orichalcum, moonstone, and beyond. There were many things, both metal and otherwise, capable of bearing mana circuits – too many to count.

One would use the metal that best suited the task. Rings and amulets would often be silver, with some gold alloyed into it (electrum) if its intent was to bear a more complex series of runes that silver alone could not handle. This, as the TA posited, was why runesmithing was falling out of favor with mages seeking to shoot for quality over quantity.

Making a sword out of gold was ridiculous and would defeat the purpose, so they'd use purified steel alloys which required no extra enchantment to counter the softness of something made to strike. For weapons, high carbon steel was popular. Mithril was simply too expensive, platinum was too brittle, and orichalcum was too heavy, and also expensive.

For students, they were given a large supply of silver and iron to begin their education. Anything beyond that, they were required to source themselves either through their own pockets or effort. Some who had already progressed to the point of self sufficiency with simple artifacts would sell these to the academy for 'points' that could be used to trade for other things.

Already finished products. Potions, books, scrolls, or gems and more raw materials. Unlike the other students, Tyr's every attempt to finish even the simplest artifact was met with failure. He'd been so intent at his task that he only looked up when the sun beyond the window had started to dip in the sky, finding himself alone in the workshop for hours – inadvertently skipping his other classes.

Sighing in resignation, he noticed a massive hulk of a man had seated himself opposite the workbench he was afforded. Just staring. Tyr understood now why Iscari said it made everyone so uncomfortable.