The Golden Tone Vignette PART 2

Part 2: The Golden Tone Vignette
 
 
Jazbet had taken to bringing his violin everywhere. Practicing constantly when not running chores with the other boys.
 
As he finished playing, he took a moment to enjoy the sun’s kiss on his face and observed the sunset sky. He leaned against a fence post as his mind wandered to who his father was.
 
Was he a great musician? A traveling minstrel? An elven lord?
 
Despair gripped his heart in icy fear as the thought he may never know dawned on him.
 
He looked down at the symbol engraved against the frame of the instrument.
 
Was this a family crest?
 
“You play beautifully, young man.” An accented voice came from behind.
 
 
A week had passed since Chester the Magnificent had joined the troupe, and he had fast become a popular member and well regarded. His acts were never done alongside Minstrels and appealed to the more academically minded. In the countryside of Panagon, scientific experimentation and alchemy was as wondrous as a bolt of lightning from ones fingertips.
 
Jazbet gave a faint hearted smile,
“Thank you.” He began gathering his things to leave, and give way to the Tiefling magician.
 
“Don’t leave on my account, I would very much like to speak with you.” The colorfully dressed wizard sauntered his way over, and sat down directly atop the grass. He wore layers of pristine and colorful fabrics, scarves and sashes, different bits of cloth and rings adorned his fingers, which were currently grasped around his book.
 
Since Doolin, Jazbet had always been a voracious reader. His eyes scanned the title against the spine.
 
Polymorphic Transmorgification.
 
“What’s trans...morg..transmorgification?” He sounded off the word to the best of his ability.
 
At this, Chester grinned knowingly.
Where did you learn your letters when the other boys you spend time with know none? You are newer than any of them here, yes?”
 
Jazbet nodded, “I learned back in Doolin. A friend taught me...a sailor.”
 
The Tiefling set the books down, and Jazbet found himself transfixed on a single page, illustrations in various order drawn alongside it while a strange language scrolled alongside it.
 
The Tiefling observed him for a few thoughtful moments before continuing.
 
“Was the other day the first time you had ever played a violin?”
 
The half elf boy nodded.
 
“It...felt right.”
 
“You do not play like a beginner. Don’t lie to me boy.” The sharpness to the man’s tone took Jazbet by surprise.
 
Incredulously he defended himself, “I’m no liar! My violin has been broken for years! It belonged to my parents.”
 
“The Elven father of human mother?”
 
“I...I think it belonged to my father.”
 
They sat in silence staring at one another for a moment before the warmth returned to Chester’s face.
 
He removed something from his pocket, what looked to be a caterpillar cocoon.
 
He moved his hands in strange gestures, while staring intently at a pair of birds singing in the distance. Jazbet’s eyes followed the movements of his hands, and recognized them. His eyes widened.
 
“Those are the same symbols in the book! It’s a magic book!” The wizard stopped in disbelief before looking at Jazbet.
 
His face asked the question his mouth didn’t. Where did you see these symbols. Jazbet pointed at the book, now face down. The Tieflings eyes followed the boys hand, and then returned back to the birds. Before uttering a word in a tongue both liquid and harsh.
Jaz could make no sense of it but a spark of blue light surrounded one of the birds as it transformed from a small Starling to a colorful bird that looked almost completely different.
 
The boy jumped in excitement.
 
“A spell?! You cast a spell!”
 
With a wave of his hand the bird returned to its natural form, confused, but unharmed.
 
“You were able to recognize somatic gestures in precise order from glancing at an arcane treatise?”
 
Jazbet stared blankly and shrugged.
 
“I think there is more to you than meets the eye young Jazbet. I could use help with my acts and preparations. In return, I can provide books for you to read and teach you enough to set you on a scholarly path.”
 
“I want to turn a bird into a frog.”
 
“That’s not how this works.”
 
“Please?”
 
“You don’t understand-“
 
“I want. To. Turn. A bird. Into. A frog.”
 
The wizard sighed.
 
Three months had passed.
 
Jazbet found himself nose deep in an elementary text on beginners Draconic. He crouched and huddled over it. Only a few minutes before Chester returned and then Jazbet would be stuck laundering his mentor’s clothes for the rest of the day.
Between running errands, practicing violin, and studying the mountains of never ending texts, scrolls and tomes that Chester had access to, he rarely got a moment to wander off.
 
The door to the wagon had opened, Chester stood covered in all manner of food. Apparently the village of Rockside did not enjoy his act.
 
“Quasi Multi-Dimensional physics are lost on the minds of the simple.” He muttered to himself before dropping his many layers of clothes. A sound of quiet flame, and water hitting a large wooden tub rang from the other room.
 
“The big cities Chester, that’s where they will appreciate you!” He attempted perhaps a bit too upbeat. He was hoping to avoid what usually came when Chester had a rough day.
 
“What is the importance of learning primordial and Draconic dialects in relation to the first law of arcane transference?”
 
Jazbet cursed under his breathe. Sneakily moving around the room trying to find a scroll on such a subject.
 
His master interred once again, “Boy, I am expecting an answer.”
 
“Uh-yes, sympathetic connection with malleable reality and uhm...consensus.”
 
“What of consensus boy. Why is Draconic and primordial so important?”
 
Jazbet closed his eyes, turned around and flipped the bird while mouthing expletives at his mentor in the other room.
“Boy?” Jazbet’s eyes opened to find a robed Chester standing directly in front of him.
 
His apprentice jumped and quickly waved his hands into flat palms before hiding against his back.
 
“In the early days of the universe, words were tied to concepts, reality was malleable and if five of six souls believed a fire would spring if they uttered the original word or idea for it, it would come to life. As generations of worlds came to and fro, consensus became harder to capture in the new tongues and eventually the fabric of reality could most easily be molded through the original words...before it cemented itself.
 
Chester signed.
 
“That is the worst explanation I have ever heard.”
 
His apprentice’s shoulders fell.
 
“You understand basic ideas, but no scholar haphazardly manages to piece together so poor an explanation for one of the most fundamental and intriguing concepts of the arcane.” His mentor sat, his hand waving over the table.
 
“But...Chester this is boring. Why do I have to drone over ancient texts about the properties of dirt in lands that no longer exist? When can I cast a spell. Do I have to be an old man like you?”
 
The Magnificent looked in feigned shock and horror.
 
“Old? Me?” They both laughed.
 
“Manipulating reality with energy from the great beyond is extremely complicated, my young friend. But there is no reason that we can’t do it with a bit of dash, a whole lot of sass,” he wiggled his hands as harmless sparks stemmed from them.
 
“And a whole lot of pizazz.”
“Sympathetic connection is everything. Connection can bypass the fundamental law of consensus. Those with a particularly strong soul fire can bypass both, but only few have ever accomplished such feats. It is why we must sharpen our mind the same way a knight sharpens his sword.” An apple appeared suddenly in the Tiefling Sorcerer’s hands. He took a bite and nodded as if in approval of its flavor.
 
“You have a gift young Jazbet, but talent without training is a recipe for disaster. This is why you must study these things.”
 
The apprentice could take the disappointment no longer.
 
“I’m ready now!” He exclaimed, palms on the table as he stood abruptly.
 
His master rocked back on the chair, his feet resting on a table while his hands were crossed behind his head. He grinned, mischievously.
 
“Very well, oh Jazbet the Magnificent. Take a look at this apple.” He said holding it in the air beside him. Jazbet did so. Focusing intently.
“Now focus. As sharply as you ever have. Are you focusing?”
 
The boy nodded enthusiastically, intently staring at the disembodied apple core.
 
“This Apple will hit the floor, as sure as the law of gravity. But you, must make it go up. No matter what your eyes may see, you will make it go up. You will know it. This is known as lying in the face of Gods, and it is the first step toward casting a spell. Are you focusing?”
 
Jazbet nodded once again. He stared, and stared. No matter what he saw, he would believe this Apple went up. He would make it so, he knew it in his bones.
 
The Apple dropped and hit the floor.
 
And so did Jazbet.
 
He woke up to a splash of cold water on his face.
 
“And that is why you must sharpen your mind boy.”