Cloak and Scalpel

ABERLEEN ARC: Duchess

Trigger Warning:
This chapter will feature a graphic depiction of childbirth.

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"Try holding it longer in your hand," Gusion suggested.

I sighed as the tiny sphere of light I held vanished for the third time that afternoon.  The day after Aamon had showed me how to bring my magic out to the surface, we'd resumed our travels towards the port of House Alvin.  We'd journeyed for a good part of the day, and occasionally, we'd stop to rest.  Aamon would take the brief moments of respite to help me control my magic.

The sun was starting to set and we'd decided to set up camp beside a cheerful brook.  Aamon wasted no time in resuming our magic lessons.  In all honesty, he was quite a good teacher.  He explained the concept of magical theory in a way that was easy for me to understand.  It was a new aspect of the game that wasn't mentioned in the original game lore, and I once again found myself marveling at how many things the game managed to leave out.

Still, despite Aamon's tutelage, just controlling my magic was...difficult.

I could barely hold that little sphere of light in my hand for more than a few seconds.  Gusion pointed out that it was because of my lack of control.  Aamon said it was normal not to be able to control it the first time.  After all, most magic users in Moniyan learned how to control their magic since childhood.  They would undergo mental training from a young age to master their magic.

According to Aamon, control was the first step when it came to magic.  Odette had agreed wholeheartedly, saying that as a child she had also undergone similar magical training.

"You shouldn't be too harsh on yourself, Diana," Odette said soothingly, as she sat beside Aamon and me.  Featherdown fluttered beside her in a huff of feathers.  "When I was a child, I accidentally turned my hair black because I couldn't control my magic.  It was an odd color on me."

"Princess, you shouldn't lie to make people feel better," Featherdown said, rolling his beady little eyes.

A trickle of sweat formed on Odette's brow as she smiled apologetically at me.

"You were a genius with your magic, weren't you?" I said knowingly, raising a brow at her.

She gave me an awkward chuckle.  "Well, in all honesty—yes," she said.  "But you shouldn't be harsh on yourself.  You come from a world without magic.  You were never taught to hone magic, let alone—"

"Your Highness," Aamon interjected politely, that nobleman's smile on his face.  Odette fell silent at once.

"He's being polite, but it scares me," Featherdown said ominously, glaring at Aamon.

"Now, now, Featherdown," Odette admonished.

"When I was a kid, I had no trouble controlling my magic," Gusion interrupted, from where he was stoking the fire.  "Before I found an affinity, I—"

"—was shattering vases, making chandeliers crash from the ceiling, and setting our mother's hair on fire," Aamon pointed out, glaring at Gusion.  "Your control wasn't lacking—it was disastrous."

Gusion's cheeks reddened as he rounded on Aamon.  "Not everyone can be the perfect golden child like you," he huffed.  But then he shrugged at his brother.  "At least I had no trouble manifesting my magic."

I rolled my eyes and held out my hand again.  Digging deep inside me, I willed that sphere of light onto my palm.  It flared brightly, hovering above my hand for a moment before winking out of existence.