2.03 – Mace

“Hm,” Tess said. “You keep gravitating to gestures.”

“I know.” Natalie had to stop herself from snapping at the other girl. Tess was actually patient and overall pleasant, not pushy or condescending, but Natalie’s continued incompetence made it hard to keep her temper in check. “I’m trying not to.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Natalie was taken aback by the question. “Because … it’s bad?”

“Why is it bad?”

Great. She was being prodded to figure something out. Tess’s tone made that clear enough. “Because being able to cast with your head is better for versatility.”

“Sure,” Tess said easily. “That’s the general advice. But what did I say about general advice?”

“That it doesn’t apply to everyone. But this does, doesn’t it?” Natalie had no intentions of half-assing the learning process and falling back on crutches, even if she was struggling.

“But you’re a hands-on girl,” Tess pointed out. “I can recognize a fighter when I see one.”

Funny enough, that had gone both ways.

“And?”

“So maybe your class expects you to use gestures,” Tess said. “You’re really gravitating to them.”

Natalia had noticed that too. Her limbs were itching to be in motion. But everyone else was simply holding their hand out, at the most. Clearly, that was the right way to go about things.

“But in a fight, I’ll need my hands for fighting,” Natalie said, trying to keep the exasperation from her voice. “So even if I did better, it’s pointless.”

Tess nodded to the side of the courtyard. “Go grab one.”

Natalie blinked, then looked in the direction she’d indicated. A rack sat there, hosting a collection of varied wooden weapons. “Seriously?”

Tess quirked her eyebrow. She was patient, but she also wasn’t afraid to make it known she was the expert here. And who was Natalie kidding? Tess did know better.

Natalie sighed, then jogged over to the rack.

She surveyed the options available to her. Tenet had covered all bases when it came to the stockpile. Her eyes naturally fell to the blunted training sword. Swords were the most common fighting utensil among melee adventurers, for good reason. In trained hands, their versatility was hard to beat. But Natalie could wield most of the weapons in the rack, besides the most eccentric. Maces, spears, swords, polearms—she’d gotten her hands on each, and trained to at least a non-embarrassing standard.

Like many fighters, she’d avoided locking herself into a specific weapon in case the class she accepted couldn’t utilize it. She still hadn’t decided, specifically, which she’d stick with. Maybe she’d continue to keep her options open, so that whatever weapon she found first in the dungeon, she could use. Letting fate decide had a certain appeal. It also didn’t.

Something one-handed might be the best choice. As a tank, odds were high she’d want a shield. Not all tanks wielded one, but the majority did. So … a mace? Something simple, for now? Probably not what she’d stick with forever, but Natalie let her first choice guide her. Her hand closed around the handle of a simple training mace: long smooth shaft with a heavy orb at the top. She weighed it in her hand, then shrugged. It was much lighter than it ought to be, but these were clearly weren’t meant for real combat. To be used like Natalie was about to: as a simple prop in spellcasting coordination.

She returned to Tess. Tess made no comment over her choice of weapon.

“Go ahead,” she said, gesturing for Natalie to continue.

“Go ahead what?”

“You’re a fighter,” Tess said. “And you’re fidgeting trying to cast. Focus, gather your mana, then let your body guide you.”

“But—“

Tess’s raised eyebrows cut over further complaints. Natalie muttered, but did as told.

She had to fight not to close her eyes. Whatever Tess said, it helped her focus massively. Though, her point about being horrible in combat—though obvious—was much, much more salient than simple gestures to aid in spells. Close your eyes in the middle of a spar for more than a blink, things wouldn’t go well.

She collected her thoughts and focused inwardly on the orb of power in her stomach.

The imagery she conjured wasn’t that different from her ‘advance’ skill. Instead of a pink orb, though, the essence sloshing around was blue, and she extracted rather than pushed into. It was all in her head. Each person apparently had their own mental guides to aid the process.

Funny enough, Tess helped Natalie in more ways than simple advice. Natalie didn’t particularly like making an idiot of herself, but triply so in front of a pretty girl. She gave the spellcasting a bit more elbow grease than usual. And no longer trying to rein in the itching desire to summon the spell through her movements, she took stance and swiped the air with her mace.

Thank the heavens, the spell didn’t fizzle. [Illusion] activated, and the mana she’d withdraw from that imaginary orb—and been holding, vibrating, somewhere in the back of her head—expended, and a bright flash of light popped in front of her. She’d gone for something simple. A bright light, enough to temporarily blind, could do wonders applied at the right time in a spar.

Tess blinked the flash out of her eyes, having been looking right where Natalie had been aiming. She had let the spell hit her. She was a mid-ranker, and a mage no less—she could have shrugged the simple effect if she had wanted to.

“That felt better?” Tess asked.

“Sure, but it’s not efficient.” That had been the crux of her argument from the start.

“You think it telegraphs the spell.”

“I don’t think. It does.”

“And you think monsters will recognize your tells?”

Natalie paused. It was, of course, a great point. “But duels.”

“So you’re a duelist?”

“Well … no. But still. And some of the smarter monsters might catch on.”

“Only if it drags long enough for them to start recognizing patterns. That’s not common down in the dungeon, even for boss fights. Besides, are tells that big a deal?”

Natalie was learning to hate those raised eyebrows. Though, the rational part of her told her it was deserved. Tess was only stating the obvious … just, not obvious at the time.

“I don’t think they are,” Tess said, answering her own question. “And besides, you could have several gestures for each spell. It’s not as crippling as you think. Sure, it locks you in to specific movements, but you can play around with that. Assuming someone studies your style, you can make plays based on their assumptions. Make that motion, they’ll expect an illusion of some sort—or that specific flash you sent. But don’t, one time. At a critical moment.”

“That’s true.” But she wasn’t fully sold. Even though it sounded stupid to her own ears, she repeated the claim from earlier. “But everyone says gestures are a crutch.”

“It’s best if you can divorce movement from spellcasting,” Tess conceded. “In a perfect world, you would. But, really, it’s not that bad. Trust me.”

“I guess.”

“Or trust your superiors,” Tess said. “Go study the styles of some fighter-mage hybrids. You’ll see that some of them—even high rankers—lock certain spells to certain movements. Makes it easier to balance physical combat with magical.”

Tess patted her back.

“It’s your choice, ultimately. Keep practicing. I’ve gotta help the others. If you want my opinion, let your body guide you. I’ll make my way back around.”