---
The training grounds stretched before them, quiet except for the distant call of birds and the soft rustle of wind through the ancient oaks. Morning light spilled across the packed earth, casting long shadows from the training dummies that lined the courtyard's edge.
Giovanni stood stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture perfect. He had been taught to stand this way—shoulders back, chin level, feet precisely shoulder-width apart. It was the stance of a Rosenthal heir. The stance of a noble awaiting instruction.
Fanzell Kruger, by contrast, was sitting on the ground.
Not kneeling. Not crouching. *Sitting*. Cross-legged, like a child at story time, his worn boots crossed at the ankles and his hands resting on his knees. The sword at his hip had been casually set aside, leaning against a nearby post as though it were a borrowed tool rather than a weapon.
Giovanni didn't know what to do with this.
"So," Fanzell said, looking up at him with those sharp green eyes. "Before we start, let me ask you something."
Giovanni nodded, ready.
"Do you know why Diamond Kingdom mages get their grimoires so early?"
Giovanni blinked. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't that. "I... I'm not sure I understand the question."
"It's simple enough," Fanzell said. "In the Clover Kingdom, for example, mages receive their grimoires at fifteen. Here, we get them as children. Do you know why?"
Giovanni frowned, searching his memory. He had been taught about grimoires, of course—their purpose, their significance, the way they recorded spells and served as the medium through which magic developed. But the *why* of the timing... that was something he had never questioned.
"I wasn't aware of that difference," he admitted. "Why do we receive them earlier?"
Fanzell grinned, as though pleased by the question. "Good. Asking questions is the first step." He leaned back on his hands, his gaze drifting toward the sky. "The answer is complicated. But I'll give you the simple version."
He held up one hand, ticking off points on his fingers.
"Diamond Kingdom mages get their grimoires young—usually around five or six, sometimes earlier for prodigies like you. The idea is that the sooner you start, the more time you have to develop. More years to cultivate mana control. More time to experiment. More opportunities to refine your spells."
He lowered his hand.
"The Clover Kingdom waits until fifteen. By then, their mages are older, more mature, more... *formed*. They receive their grimoires when they already understand who they are and what they want to become."
Giovanni nodded slowly. That made sense, in a way. But there had to be a catch.
"There is a catch," Fanzell said, as though reading his thoughts. "Grimoires have limited capacity. You know this?"
"Yes," Giovanni said. "The number of pages determines how many spells a mage can record."
"Exactly." Fanzell's expression grew more serious. "And magic is deeply connected to identity. A spell isn't just a technique—it's an expression of who you are, what you value, how you see the world. When you create a spell, you're putting a piece of yourself into your grimoire."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"Now imagine a five-year-old mage. They get their grimoire, they're excited, they want to create spells. So they do. They fill their pages with abilities based on what they think is cool, or what they're afraid of, or what they've seen someone else do. And then they grow up. They change. They become someone different. But those spells are still there, taking up space, no longer fitting who they've become."
Giovanni's stomach tightened.
"That's why the Clover Kingdom waits," Fanzell continued. "Their mages start later, but when they create their first spells, they do so with greater self-understanding. They know who they are. They know what they want. Their grimoires are filled with abilities that will grow with them, not hold them back."
He shrugged.
"Neither tradition is inherently better. The Diamond Kingdom's approach gives mages more time to develop their foundations. The Clover Kingdom's approach produces mages with more focused, more mature spell repertoires. Different advantages. Different risks."
Giovanni stood quietly, processing this. He thought about his own grimoire—still mostly empty, its pages blank and waiting. He thought about the pressure he had felt to create spells, to prove himself, to be *worthy* of the Rosenthal name.
He thought about the courtyard, and the way his magic had fractured reality without a single spell.
*What would have happened,* he wondered, *if I had been allowed to create spells then?*
"Good," Fanzell said, breaking the silence. "You're thinking. That's good." He reached into his tunic and pulled out a small, worn book. "Now, let's talk about your grimoire."
Giovanni's hand instinctively moved toward his own grimoire, tucked safely in the pocket of his robes.
"The five-sided diamond," Fanzell said, flipping through the book absently. "You know what it means?"
"Good fortune," Giovanni said. "Prosperity. The potential for greatness."
"Right. And also..." Fanzell looked up, his green eyes sharp. "The potential to become a legend."
Giovanni's breath caught.
"The four-leaf clover in the Clover Kingdom is said to be a sign of extraordinary destiny. The first Wizard King had one. It's the symbol of someone who might change the world." Fanzell closed the book and set it aside. "The five-sided diamond is our equivalent. Rare. Powerful. The mark of a mage who could stand among the greatest."
He leaned forward, his grin returning.
"So no pressure, kid."
Giovanni didn't know what to say. He had been told his grimoire was special—that the five-sided diamond was a blessing—but he had never heard it put quite like that. *A legend. Someone who might change the world.*
"Now," Fanzell said, "let's not sweat the boring stuff. All that formality and tradition and duty-to-the-crown nonsense? Forget it. We're here to make you strong, not to make you a good little noble."
Giovanni stared at him.
*What?*
"I mean, don't get me wrong," Fanzell continued, apparently oblivious to Giovanni's shock. "Respect your elders, follow the rules, all that. But when we're training? I don't care about your family name or your bloodline or how many generations of Rosenthals have served the crown. I care about whether you can use your magic. That's it."
Giovanni opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I... was expecting something different," he admitted.
Fanzell laughed. "Yeah, I get that a lot. All the other tutors probably gave you some big speech about honor and duty and the weight of your lineage, right?"
Giovanni nodded, still off-balance.
"Well, forget all that. I'm not here to make you a proper noble. I'm here to make you a proper mage." Fanzell stood, brushing dirt off his trousers. "And proper mages don't care about being proper. They care about being *efficient*."
Despite himself, Giovanni felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It was small—barely there—but it was genuine. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled like that.
*I think I'm going to like him,* Giovanni thought.
"Alright," Fanzell said, clapping his hands together. "Enough talking. Let's get to work."
---
The next few hours were a whirlwind.
Fanzell, it turned out, did not believe in pacing himself.
"Training your magic is simple and complicated at the same time," he said, pacing back and forth in front of Giovanni. "Simple because the principles are easy to understand. Complicated because actually *doing* it takes years of practice. So what we're going to do is build a foundation. A good, solid foundation. And then, once you have that, we'll start thinking about spells."
He stopped pacing and looked at Giovanni.
"Your grimoire has a limited number of pages. You know this now. So before you start filling it with spells, you need to understand what kind of mage you want to be. What kind of spells you'll need. What kind of foundation will support them."
Giovanni nodded, thinking back to the conversation at breakfast. *Don't create spells impulsively. Understand yourself first.*
"I understand," he said.
"Good. Because that's why your uncle forbade you from creating spells, by the way. Not because he wanted to punish you. Because he wanted to protect you."
Giovanni blinked. "Protect me?"
"A young mage with a powerful grimoire is a tempting target. Not just for enemies—for yourself. It's easy to fill your pages with spells you'll regret later. Spells that don't fit who you become." Fanzell's expression softened, just slightly. "Your uncle knows what he's doing. He's trying to make sure you don't waste your potential."
Giovanni was quiet for a moment. He thought about his uncle's tired eyes, his sad smile. He thought about the way Lord Cassius had said *reflect on what happened*—not as a punishment, but as a plea.
*He's trying to help me,* Giovanni realized. *In his own way.*
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For telling me."
Fanzell shrugged. "Don't mention it. Now—" He reached into his tunic and pulled out a thick notebook, its pages worn and dog-eared. "Here."
Giovanni took it, surprised by its weight. The cover was plain leather, unmarked except for a small symbol in the corner—a stylized wind current, he thought.
"This is everything you need to know about foundational training," Fanzell said. "I wrote it all down so I wouldn't have to repeat myself. Read it. Study it. We'll go over anything you don't understand later."
Giovanni opened the notebook, his eyes scanning the first page. The handwriting was messy—almost illegible in places—but the content was organized, structured, clearly the work of someone who had thought deeply about how to train a mage.
"This is... extensive," Giovanni said.
"Yep." Fanzell yawned, stretching his arms over his head. "Which is why I'm going to take a nap while you read it."
Giovanni's head snapped up. "What?"
"A nap. You know, sleep? Eyes closed, mind off?" Fanzell was already walking toward a shaded bench near the wall. "Wake me up when you're done with the first section."
"But—" Giovanni sputtered. "This is your first day! My uncle—he might be watching—are you sure it's fine to slack off so openly?"
Fanzell waved a hand dismissively. "Relax, kid. Your uncle hired me because I get results. And I get results by doing things my way." He flopped onto the bench, folding his arms behind his head. "Besides, the best way to learn is to read and think for yourself. I'm just here to make sure you don't hurt yourself."
Giovanni stared at him, utterly speechless.
Within moments, Fanzell's breathing had evened out. He was asleep.
*He's actually asleep,* Giovanni thought, somewhere between horrified and fascinated. *The royal family is considering this man for training recruits. He's supposed to be a genius. And he's asleep.*
He looked down at the notebook in his hands.
*Well. I suppose I should read.*
---
Giovanni found a shaded spot near the training dummies and sat down, the notebook open in his lap. The pages were dense with information—diagrams, lists, explanations—all written in that same messy hand. But as he read, he began to understand why Fanzell had written it all down.
The training regiment was comprehensive. Exhaustive. And, Giovanni realized with a sinking feeling, absolutely necessary.
He read about foundational mana training first.
**Mana sensing.**
The mage learns to sense their own mana reserves, the mana circulating through their body, the mana in the surrounding environment. They learn to detect changes in density and movement, to perceive the presence of other mages.
*This is important,* Fanzell had written, *because a mage must eventually perceive distance, position, direction, and distortion to ensure spells hit with accuracy. You can't control what you can't sense.*
Giovanni nodded to himself. That made sense. He had always been able to *feel* his magic—the void behind his ribs, the way it stirred when he was emotional—but he had never thought about sensing it deliberately. About *understanding* it.
He read on.
**Mana circulation.**
The mage practices moving mana through their body without releasing it as a spell. The goals are preventing mana leakage, maintaining stable flow, increasing control over output, reducing unnecessary consumption, and preparing the body for mana reinforcement.
*Having a large mana pool is not the same as being able to use it efficiently,* Fanzell had written. *A mage who wastes mana is worse than a mage with less mana who uses it well.*
Giovanni thought about the courtyard. The way his magic had exploded outward, uncontrolled, fracturing reality without direction or purpose. He had wasted so much mana that day. If he had known how to circulate it—how to contain it—maybe things would have been different.
**Output control.**
The mage learns to produce different levels of mana output. Extremely small amounts for precision. Moderate amounts for ordinary techniques. Sudden bursts for emergencies. Sustained output for prolonged combat.
Giovanni frowned. He had never thought about *precision* with his magic. It had always been all-or-nothing—either nothing happened, or everything happened. The idea of controlling the output, of producing just a tiny amount of mana for delicate work, was almost foreign to him.
*But that's exactly what I need,* he realized. *If I can control my output, I can control my magic.*
He turned the page.
---
The next section was about mana skin and mana manipulation, and it was significantly more detailed.
**Basic Mana Skin.**
The mage wraps their entire body in a thin layer of mana. Functions include: slightly increasing physical durability, protecting the body from environmental hazards, reducing damage from weak attacks, improving awareness of surrounding mana, and allowing the mage to remain functional when they cannot immediately cast a spell.
*Basic mana skin is not a powerful defensive barrier,* Fanzell had written. *It is more like a constant layer of reinforcement that becomes stronger through practice. A trained mage should eventually be able to maintain it subconsciously.*
Giovanni's eyes widened. He had never heard of this. The lessons he had received from Magister Vell had focused entirely on spellcasting—on creating portals, on spatial manipulation, on the theoretical applications of his affinity. Nothing about wrapping his body in mana.
*Is this something all Diamond mages learn?* he wondered. *Or is this something Fanzell developed himself?*
He read on.
**Mana Skin Augmentation.**
The mage learns to reinforce specific parts of the body by directing additional mana into them. Reinforcing the fists for stronger punches. Reinforcing the legs for explosive movement. Reinforcing the feet for balance and stability. Reinforcing the torso to withstand impact. Reinforcing the neck and head against sudden blows. Reinforcing the back and shoulders for lifting, pulling, and grappling.
*This is not merely "put more mana everywhere,"* Fanzell had written. *The mage must learn to distribute mana according to the immediate demand.*
A diagram followed, showing a human figure with different areas highlighted in varying shades of gray. Arrows indicated the flow of mana—from the core to the limbs, from the limbs back to the core.
*For example: A mage about to punch concentrates more mana into the fist and forearm, while maintaining enough mana around the rest of the body to avoid becoming completely vulnerable.*
Giovanni studied the diagram, fascinated. This was a completely different way of thinking about magic. Not as a tool to be used, but as an extension of the body. A resource to be managed, distributed, controlled.
**Focus and Distribution.**
The more advanced form of mana manipulation. The mage learns to shift mana rapidly between different body parts depending on the situation. Mana concentrated in the legs for acceleration. Mana redirected to the forearm to block an attack. Mana shifted to the torso after being struck. Mana divided between both feet to maintain balance. Mana focused into the fingers for delicate manipulation. Mana distributed throughout the body when expecting an attack from an unknown direction.
*The difficult part is maintaining the correct balance between offense, defense, movement, and awareness,* Fanzell had written. *Overconcentrating mana in one area may leave another area less protected. Therefore, this training should include controlled sparring so that the mage learns to adjust distribution instinctively.*
Giovanni sat back, his mind spinning. This was so much more than he had expected. So much more than *portals* and *teleportation*. This was a whole system of magic—a whole way of understanding power.
He turned the page.
---
Physical training came next, and it was just as extensive.
General strength: push-ups, pull-ups, squats, lunges, carrying weights, climbing, controlled grappling, grip training.
Mobility and balance: dynamic stretching, balance drills, footwork, dodging, controlled falls, landing safely, movement across uneven terrain.
Conditioning: short sprints, moderate-distance running, interval training, repeated bursts of movement, recovery training.
Combat-specific physical training: striking fundamentals, blocking and evasion, grappling escapes, breaking an opponent's balance, fighting while exhausted, fighting with one arm occupied, fighting without access to the grimoire.
*The purpose is not to make physical strength equal to magic,* Fanzell had written. *It is to ensure that a mage does not become helpless simply because their spellcasting is interrupted.*
Giovanni frowned. He had never thought about that before. In his lessons, magic had always been the answer—the solution to every problem. But what happened when magic *wasn't* available? What happened when an enemy closed the distance before he could cast a spell?
He read on, and found his answer.
**Spellcasting Is Not Instantaneous.**
*Spellcasting takes time,* Fanzell had written. *The required time varies according to the complexity of the spell, the mage's familiarity with it, their mana control, and their physical or emotional condition. Practice can reduce casting time, but even experienced mages may be unable to cast immediately under pressure.*
A spell may require the mage to: recognize the situation, decide which spell to use, open or turn to the correct grimoire page, gather the required mana, shape the mana according to the spell, and complete the activation.
*Simple spells can eventually become nearly instantaneous through repetition. More complex spells may still require preparation.*
Giovanni nodded slowly. That explained why his magic sometimes worked and sometimes didn't—why he could feel the void stirring behind his ribs but couldn't always *reach* it. He had never learned to cast spells properly. He had only ever used magic instinctively, without form or structure.
*This creates a useful distinction between spell knowledge, spell activation speed, mana control, combat reaction speed, and physical survival ability,* Fanzell had written. *A mage may know that a certain spell is theoretically useful, but that does not mean they can activate it quickly enough during an actual fight.*
Giovanni's jaw tightened. He thought about the courtyard again. The way his magic had surged without warning, without control. If he had known how to cast spells—*real* spells, with structure and purpose—maybe he could have stopped it.
*Maybe.*
He turned the page.
---
**Emergency Combat Training.**
This section was particularly detailed. Fanzell had written about situations where mages might find themselves unable to cast: their grimoire out of reach, too injured to cast properly, hands occupied, spell requires preparation, mana temporarily unstable, inside an enemy's attack range, insufficient time to select a spell, opponent interrupts casting.
*A mage should never assume that their next spell will be available in time,* Fanzell had written.
The mage must be able to survive for a few seconds through: mana skin, mana reinforcement, evasion, physical movement, blocking, grappling, environmental awareness, improvised attacks, retreating to create casting distance.
*This also gives physical training a clear narrative purpose,* Giovanni thought, remembering Fanzell's words. *It's not just about being strong. It's about surviving long enough to use your magic.*
He read on.
---
**Spell Development and Grimoire Efficiency.**
This was the section Giovanni had been waiting for.
*Diamond mages receive grimoires early,* Fanzell had written. *This gives them more years to develop spells. However, that advantage creates a risk: a young mage may develop spells before fully understanding their own identity, fighting style, or long-term goals. Therefore, Diamond instructors should not encourage children to create spells merely because they can.*
Giovanni nodded. This was what Fanzell had explained earlier, but seeing it written out made it feel more real—more urgent.
*Instead, spell development should follow several stages.*
**Stage One: Observation.**
The mage studies their natural magical tendencies. What kind of spatial effects occur instinctively? Does their magic favor movement, storage, barriers, distortion, or perception? What range feels natural? What level of precision can they maintain? What situations cause their mana to react? What emotional states influence their magic?
*At this stage, the mage is not expected to create impressive spells.*
Giovanni frowned. He had never thought about his magic this way. He had always been told to *control* it, to *suppress* it, to *master* it. But this was different. This was about *understanding* it.
*What kind of spatial effects occur instinctively?*
He thought about the courtyard. The way reality had fractured, not breaking but *disagreeing*. The way multiple versions of the same object had existed simultaneously. That wasn't normal spatial magic. That wasn't teleportation or portals or compressed distance.
*What if my magic is different?*
He pushed the thought aside and kept reading.
**Stage Two: Concept Formation.**
The mage identifies a practical purpose for a potential spell. Instead of thinking "I want a powerful teleportation spell," they are taught to think "I need a way to move myself a short distance without losing balance" or "I need to retrieve an object without crossing the distance between us."
*This encourages spells that arise from an actual understanding of the mage's needs.*
Giovanni nodded slowly. That made sense. Instead of creating spells because they seemed impressive, he should create spells that solved specific problems. Spells that fit who he was and what he needed to do. And seeing teleportation made him realize that the notebook had been written for him. This made him see the supposedly irresponsible teacher in a new light. *though he may have just scribbled the part later* thought Giovanni.
**Stage Three: Prototype Development.**
The mage develops the simplest possible version of the spell. The first version should be narrow in purpose, low in mana cost, easy to control, simple enough to modify later, and useful even if its range or power is limited.
**Stage Four: Refinement.**
Once the spell is stable, the mage studies how to improve it. Increase range. Reduce mana consumption. Improve activation speed. Increase precision. Expand the number of targets. Remove unnecessary restrictions. Make the spell easier to combine with other techniques.
*The idea is that the first version of a spell should be designed as a foundation for later evolution, not as a final product.*
**Stage Five: Specialization.**
Only after sufficient experience should the mage commit to more specialized or complicated spells. This prevents a child from filling their grimoire with overly specific abilities based on temporary interests, fears, or immature assumptions.
*A Diamond training maxim,* Fanzell had written. *"Do not develop a spell merely because it is possible. Develop it because it has a purpose."*
Giovanni sat back, his mind buzzing. This was so different from what he had been taught. Magister Vell had always pushed him to create spells—to prove himself, to demonstrate his potential. But Fanzell was saying the opposite. *Don't rush. Understand yourself first. Build a foundation.*
*He's right,* Giovanni thought. *I wasn't ready. I'm still not ready.*
The realization was humbling. But it was also freeing, in a way. He didn't have to prove anything. He didn't have to rush. He just had to learn.
---
The rest of the notebook was filled with more sections—specific training progressions, weapon arts, martial arts, theoretical notes. Giovanni read through them all, absorbing as much as he could.
One section caught his attention near the end.
**Mana Theory.**
*Mana is partly hereditary,* Fanzell had written. *Which is why peasants generally possess less mana than nobles, while nobles and royals usually possess greater reserves. However, training can gradually increase both mana volume and mana affinity.*
*Mana volume refers to how much mana a body can contain, circulate, and replenish.*
*Mana affinity refers to how naturally a person can sense, attract, and harmonize with mana.*
*Through regular mana circulation, controlled spellcasting, basic mana skin, physical conditioning, gradual exposure to ambient mana, and proper recovery, the body can become capable of holding and using greater quantities of mana.*
*Affinity can be improved through meditation, mana sensing, environmental awareness, controlled intake of surrounding mana, and learning to synchronize personal mana with the mana of the environment.*
*Greater affinity reduces mana waste, improves spell control, strengthens mana skin, and allows a mage to use their reserves more efficiently.*
*Hereditary mana determines a person's starting advantage, but disciplined training determines how much of that potential they can actually develop.*
Giovanni read the last line three times.
*Hereditary mana determines a person's starting advantage, but disciplined training determines how much of that potential they can actually develop.*
He thought about the peasant boy from his fragments. The one with no magic, no noble blood, no advantages. And yet, he had refused to give up. He had fought and struggled and *demanded* to be great.
*If he could do it,* Giovanni thought, *so can I.*
He closed the notebook and looked up. The sun had moved across the sky, casting long shadows across the training grounds. Fanzell was still asleep on the bench, snoring softly.
Giovanni stood, stretching his stiff limbs. His mind was full—overflowing, really—but it was a good kind of full. The kind that came from learning something important.
He walked over to the bench and stood there for a moment, looking down at his sleeping instructor.
*He's strange,* Giovanni thought. *Lazy. Unprofessional. Completely unlike any tutor I've ever had.*
He thought about the notebook in his hands, filled with knowledge that had been carefully organized and generously shared. He thought about the way Fanzell had spoken to him—not as a noble heir, but as a student. As a person.
*But he's also brilliant.*
Giovanni reached out and gently shook Fanzell's shoulder. "Master Kruger. I've finished the whole notebook."
Fanzell stirred, blinking awake. "Hmm? Oh, right.The whole notebook? You're a fast one aren't you!" He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Good. Any questions?"
Giovanni hesitated. He had a hundred questions. A thousand. But one stood out above the rest.
"Why are you teaching me this way?" he asked. "The other tutors—they always focused on spells. On creating spells as quickly as possible. But you're telling me to wait. To build a foundation first."
Fanzell looked at him for a long moment. Then he smiled—a genuine smile, warmer than his usual grin.
"Because spells are easy," he said. "Any mage can create a spell. But a *good* mage—a mage who becomes truly strong—needs more than that. They need to understand themselves. They need to understand magic. They need a foundation that won't crack when things get hard."
He stood, stretching his arms over his head.
"You have potential, kid. Real potential. I can see it. But potential without discipline is just wasted talent. And I don't like wasting talent."
Giovanni didn't know what to say. So he just nodded.
"Good," Fanzell said. "Now—let's get back to work. We've got a lot to do."
He walked toward the training dummies, and Giovanni followed.
This time, his steps were a little lighter.
---
**End of Chapter 4**