Житие Мое / Life of Mine: Алхимик с боевым дипломом

An alchemist with a combat degree

Camrad_RIP 19.08.23 в 05:31

Foreword

Camrad_RIP 19.08.23 в 05:31

* * *

Camrad_RIP 19.08.23 в 05:31

I was lucky to be born, and incredibly so. First of all, I was born at the right time, and secondly, in the right country, and no one will convince me otherwise.

Camrad_RIP 22.08.23 в 15:56

What could a penniless orphan under the kings expect? At best, a place as a charioteer without a horse of his own. And no one would care if a great warlock was lost in the boy. There are five fruits for every dozen in Krowhard, and it costs money to learn sorcery. And it wouldn't have come to training: the ritual of gaining power also required payment - Uncle Gordon couldn't have done it alone. The people gave wild money to the sorcerers, but the collective mind of the authorities was not enough to make the patriarchs competitors. In our time, the only thing required of a black magician to manifest his talent is desire. Prices have dropped, but the need for magic has even increased, so a decent sorcerer will always have respect.

Camrad_RIP 22.08.23 в 15:58

However, up until a few years ago, I was interested in magic purely theoretically. I was driven by another passion.

Camrad_RIP 22.08.23 в 16:12

Of all the countries I know, only in Ingernika are alchemists more valuable than mages. In Kashtadar, alchemy is supported, but here it is everywhere: in the city, where you can't walk a step without running into an automobile or a cast-iron station, and in the countryside, where clever villagers have quickly realized that a tractor with an oiled engine is more reliable than a dumb cattle. And the fact the smoke and smog, so let the white magicians worry, give them the will - all will ride on oxen. What to talk about if even in a backward Krowhard village there was a machine yard that captured my attention forever and completely? At the age of eighteen, I left Twilight Side to learn the high craft of alchemy (at public expense, by the way, which is not something everyone is offered!). At that moment, magic did not figure in my life plans, and life was seen as simple and straightforward. But, apparently, some of my ancestors had a different opinion about it.

Camrad_RIP 22.08.23 в 16:16

Magic came into my life on a spontaneous basis without any elaborate rituals, just... oops. Luckily, no one died at that moment! The authorities were to blame for what had happened (I hope Captain Ber felt bad about it), and I had to deal with the consequences. At first, I didn't realize the true scale of the problems created by magic talent (I was young and inexperienced). Well, I ruined the summer to curb new opportunities, so be it. I had to enroll in a magician's program at the university (the workload had doubled). But I finally had some money (a delightful feeling!), even if it wasn't quite legally earned. Who would feel bad about a poor student chasing an undead from a farmer's barn? The customers are happy, but the villagers had never even heard of such a thing as a license. I should have realized at once that in the life of a black mage, there are no happy coincidences, but every smart guy is always sure that the terrible stories are not about him.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:30

The first warning sign was a zombie dog, which I accidentally created during the exorcism of a gang of malicious ghouls (for such tricks, you can go to the fire). Then there was my uncle's strange death. His equally strange inheritance and my close acquaintance with an undead creature that the most ferocious battle mages can only say, "Oh!" The infestation named Rustle could not be exorcized, had an unhealthy attraction to the brains of wizards, and demonstrated the rudiments of morality (which is a completely unrealistic thing for an otherworldly phenomenon). I was impressed (honestly!) and decided to concentrate on alchemy, having completely stopped with witchcraft (there was a reason - a friend offered me a great job). It was too late. Following the sociable undead in my life majestically entered NZAMIPS. The office, whose task was to give out fucks to all associated with magic (mages and otherworldly beings - equally). As a small consolation, it didn't end with chains but with the appearance of two superiors: the Senior Coordinator of the region, Satal, and the same Captain Ber.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:39

They chase me like wolves. I hate it

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:40

And the boiling of passions is noticeable from the outside because Ms. Kevinahari regularly reminds me how important it is to work on controlling magic, which the Watchdogs are in charge of (For empaths, getting inside someone's soul is like eating cake). She gets paid for such conviction in NZAMIPS, though. And what about me? Thanks to some fraudulent trick, the essence of which escaped me, I am now an employee of this office, freelance and unpaid (a black one from Krowhard works for free: if they find out, they will laugh). And the first thing this worthy organization did was to turn my well-deserved New Year's vacation into a business trip. No, understand correctly, I would still do what I did: my brother was at risk (for a black one to be a senior is not just a word). But it's one thing to investigate Mihandrov's weirdness voluntarily and another to be officially sent.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:47

They didn't give me any money for it, of course. I hate it!

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:40

I did not grumble: blacks are not afraid of anything, but they know how to distinguish their benefits. Five years of voluntary forced labor was an acceptable price for forbidden sorcery and triple murder (though, considering the identities of those killed, I should get a medal for it). I have to be meek and obedient (ugh, what a sin!) and get over this upset somehow. But once the contract is up, I'm getting out.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:48

* * *

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:40

Part one.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:49

Facultatives

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:49

This, too, shall pass.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:49

A philosopher's dictum

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:50

If you feel like it's over, you're a dead man.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:50

Practical observation

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:50

* * *

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:50

Chapter 1

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:50

* * *

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 06:51

After returning from the ill-fated business trip, I was surprised to find that life had become gray. Quiet. For almost two months, nothing happened. Lectures and credits somehow stopped satisfying my notion of occurrences. No, I don't believe in the intuition of practicing mages, it was just that the silence seemed somehow false to me. Miss Kevinahari thought it was all about nervous exhaustion. She recommended I drink Siamese tea (no milk or sugar) and claimed I was lacking in company. I agreed, but not to the point of wishing for a return to Mihandrov. In principle it was possible to blow her off, but why? Dealing with empaths is easy if you don't think about who they are.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 09:35

Perhaps it would have been easier to dispel my melancholy if I had been able to boast of my role in saving the "town of the retards". Alas, I had nothing to back it up. Somewhere far to the south, journalists were rattling the bones of Sigismund Salaris. My name was never mentioned. I remained a faceless emissary from Redstone, a white, black, or even a renegade Artificer. Lt. Clarence wrote (don't ask me how he got the address) the order for anonymity came personally from Mr. Axel, and no sane person had any desire to quarrel with him (the fact he shut up all those whites is saying something). He was the oldest regional coordinator. He was not even my father but my great-grandfather, and he had a heavy character, as a black magician of the old breed should have. Besides (Kevinahari delighted me with this information), Axels and Tangors didn't always get along. Can you imagine the consequences of a black mage duel? Five minutes of dubious glory wasn't worth the hassle.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 09:43

Well, screw her!

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 10:00

And in Redstone, it was mud and boredom. It was snowing, then raining, then snowing again, quite Krowhard weather. Wet and almost indistinguishable townspeople scurried through the streets, and I walked among them to lectures and workshops, home and work like everyone else, faceless. Nevertheless, this winter was an exact copy of the previous four, so I had to admit: I was the problem.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 19:50

I couldn't clear things up with Quarter because he didn't come to the beer halls I knew. It would be too expensive to fight in public, and chasing him around the city wasn't dignified. There were only two exams at the University of High Magic: the entrance exam and the final exam, but the second one was coming at me inexorably. My fellow students were becoming feverishly excited: it wasn't the test as such (those unable to study were weeded out in the first year), but rather the proximity of the goal. And for the sake of what the crowd of undergrowth (including blacks and whites) worked so hard for so many years? That's a silly question! To get a diploma, of course.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 19:51

A diploma. The crown of five years of work. It's the final touch that transforms a schoolboy into an honorable master. At the same time, it is the finale of reckless youth and the first step of a future career. A status symbol (for blacks, an absolutely necessary thing!). I was to carry this piece of paper with the enchanted seals of the university through my life, and I wished that the notes the professors would make on it would correspond to my ideas of my genius. Carelessness in such a matter is absolutely unacceptable! I had to choose a topic for my pre-graduate internship (and where to do it), find a suitable reading list (without it, the paper would look ridiculous), and find out what questions the examiners were asking this year (exams are taken not before but after a successful demonstration of practical skills). I didn't have to worry about Alchemy: I could start presenting it at any time, from any place, and on almost any subject. Among other things, the Dean of Alchemists had a weakness for me and was ready to count my work in "Biokine" as practice, and as a diploma, he wanted to see a comparative analysis of the work of gas generators of different types (well, he was curious, yes). But my second specialty was a mess.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 09:47

I didn't really understand the depth of the trouble at first; after all, the whole black magic thing had been started solely because of my spontaneous Acquisition of Power. Well, yes, at one time, I was able to make good money on it, but as soon as the matter came into the mainstream of the law, the cash flow dried up sharply. As a result, I faced a question that had never bothered me before: what kind of black mage do I want to become?

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 14:26

A career as a cleaner wasn't really on the table. I was sick of that crowd. It was possible to go in the part of searching for inanimate objects: treasures, springs, gas leaks, wires under the plaster, after all. White ones can do it too, but not so well and selectively, and not every client needs to find an elephant under the ground. The only thing is that a searcher with a university degree is a curiosity, unworthy of discussion; in this business, everything is built on instinct, and usually, graduates of craft schools, often not even having passed the Acquisition, are engaged in this kind of work.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 20:19

More promising was the "dictate of will", or more simply, control magic. No potentially dangerous alchemical device (from a lathe to a steam turbine) would be put into the shop unless it had a couple of curses hanging on it, protecting the workers from... everything. There's not many things you can think of, is there? My motorcycle has the entire engine magically controlled. And the spells of "dictate will" are transmaster in the rarest cases, which means you can't install them without a black mage.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 22:41

It was even more important to build all kinds of defenses. It was a great money-making business, although there was a lot of competition. Let the undead be dealt with by NZAMIPS, but in Redstone, almost every door had a lock with a stubborn black-magic filling because thieves could open ordinary mechanisms with a fingernail. And safes, and the homes of the wealthy? A sinecure for mages with slow reactions: two weeks of tedious enchanting of seals, then thirty seconds for activation - and the money in your pocket. You go once a year and check if the curse needs to be renewed, of course, not for free. Good!

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 23:01

After wracking my brains and meditating over a mug of beer, I found a task that perfectly combines the two most promising directions - an amulet for a car. No mortise locks or stupid rotary locks: the engine simply won't start until a special amulet is inserted into the socket, which must be made by a transmaster. With this brilliant idea, I came to Rakshat. He wrinkled his nose a little and told me that Mr. Senior Coordinator would choose the topic of the diploma for me, and I would have to accept it. Should I explain that this news made me a little nervous?

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 23:08

Since when do Watchdogs interfere with the educational process?!

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 09:47

I went to the university administration, and suddenly it turned out that Mr. Darkon, our unbending vice-rector, was literally in awe of Satal: either he knew something about him, or he correctly assessed his fighting potential. I was told that it was a great honor and responsibility to have such a mentor and that no one cared that I didn't want it for anything. I flared up and decided to give up the title of mage altogether. Rakshat explained I would have to gather the city's certification committee to confirm it, and no black Redstone would support me because of Satal. It was a mystery how the coordinator had managed to subdue the crowd of fearless and freedom-loving black mages, but no one wanted to mess with him because of some Krowhardian. Damn townspeople! The circle was closed.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 23:15

I was angry, I raged, and I cracked the marble pulpit in the faculty lecture hall, protected by five layers of magic (I still don't know how I did it). I swore that I would wipe out Satal and his entire bloodline to the seventh generation. Rakshat promised to bring flowers to my grave. We had a small drink (with the teacher, wow!) and quickly agreed that the present Big Boss is a raving lunatic with persecution mania, obsessed with conspiracy theories. The world will only get cleaner without him! But it will be better for everyone if the Lord God himself strikes him, so to speak, personally. We couldn't decide which denomination we wanted to see as an avenger - the dean came running to the noise and threw everyone out.

Camrad_RIP 24.08.23 в 07:27

As a result, if before black magic classes seemed just tedious to me, now they were starting to get annoying. What and how am I going to pass?! And to whom? "Combat curses" is a topic that generations of mages have trampled on. Nothing new will be invented there for another thousand years. The military department gives diplomas exclusively to practitioners for combat merits.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 23:29

Finally, after a long absence, Satal returned from the capital. The kindest mentor looked at my sour face, listened to my bitter reproaches, then took me to the gym and beat me in a civilized manner. I got angry and kicked him in the balls (an ultimate Krowhardian technique), and then ran home in what I had (in shorts and a T-shirt in the cold - good!). By the following Wednesday, Kevinahari had so worked up the coordinator that he didn't mention the incident aloud but insistedently offered to give me a couple of wrestling lessons. I politely declined: I still cared about my bells. In the end, my favorite teacher decided that I had enough theory and sent me to the cleaning department's training ground to practice.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 23:34

And the silence was over, damn it.
* * *

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 09:48

It's morning (seven in the morning!), Sunday (day off!), it's cold, rain is drizzling. On the thrice plowed dunes of a small island (and where else could there be a training ground for combat mages?) stand five recruits-cleaners and a corporal-instructor with such a face that is just "mom, where are my slippers!".

Camrad_RIP 24.08.23 в 07:28

Since when am I a recruit? Since when does anyone care? Classes run from seven to eleven (four hours), which means I'm guaranteed four weekends a month. And that's if I can be firm enough to keep Satal from signing me up for the full course.

Camrad_RIP 24.08.23 в 07:29

"Fighters!" The instructor's voice was such that it could be heard anywhere on the island without any amplifying magic. "Young pillars of Ingernika!!! Today, you embark on a thorny path! Harsh trials await you on this path. Some will die! But they will not shame the honor of a battle mage!!!"

Camrad_RIP 24.08.23 в 07:30

An uplifting start...

Camrad_RIP 24.08.23 в 07:25

I listened and tried to understand: Why Sunday? Does the corporal really like his job so much? Then I realized that on all the other days, they must have cadre cleaners here to renew their skills, and a combat mage on a salary would never go to work on his day off. If the recruits are crammed into Sunday mornings, then Satal is serious about getting his subordinates in shape. And that includes me.

Camrad_RIP 24.08.23 в 07:25

"Tangor!!!!" bellowed the corporal in a voice that would have left any white man stammering. "What are you doing?!"

Camrad_RIP 24.08.23 в 07:24

"I'm listening, sir," I reported readily, feeling an acute sense of deja vu.

Camrad_RIP 24.08.23 в 05:28

"Then answer me, Mr. Smart Ass," he pointed his thick, wiener-like finger at me (if he grabs my shoulder, I'll kill him!), "what is the first thing you do when you encounter an otherworldly phenomenon?"

Camrad_RIP 24.08.23 в 05:28

"Determine what kind of phenomenon?" I suggested cautiously, trying to ignore the proximity of the ugly face.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 10:02

My brethren in arms chuckled amicably.

Camrad_RIP 23.08.23 в 10:01