Chapter 27.3 The Journey

I've never shown them to anyone. Even Ba-san explained to me what I was doing when she followed me to the plan of the rational spirits and was terribly surprised. In the scrolls that were stolen, I already found the explanations of the mages. It turns out that for many magical actions, people use long, complex calculations with long known data.

They use long-established tools. But there are other ways — to SEE the magic being created, its particles, threads, flows, to direct and correct them in time. This is the way of the creator of the new, the inventor, the discoverer. Rare units have a gift — "Mystic Vision", but it is such a rare innate skill, an ability, that its value is inestimable. Research mages, artifactors, healers, chimerologists and others, for the most part, use external means — spectacles, magnifying glasses, screens, enchanted glasses for visual manifestation of magic.

But some turn to astral magic, because in it, the astral, there is always a living imprint of our reality and many other worlds. Falling into a special trance, you can see the weaving of charms, the flow of interaction of substances in potions, the structure of artifacts, and much more.

As for the aforementioned prophecies. In this case, a gift, or the gift, is very important. Then the oracle magician can immediately break into the necessary layer of the astral — the layer of probabilities of the future, he does not need to spend time and energy to cross many plans and then still find the necessary probability, its line, and try to decipher its flow. Darkness, in short. But all work with astral plans, or as they are also called — otherworldly and spiritual, requires great strength, patience and time. I can understand why Mom was so surprised.

— And what are your duties? — The woman looked at me suspiciously.

Shit, that's right, I forgot my duties. Every new passage through the Plan, not always when you enter the Astral, but when you discover a new one, there is a price to pay. But it's not too onerous...not always and not for everyone.

I, for example, have to hold a small festival every full moon to honor the spirits, with ritual fruit burning, incense burning, and food offerings. The spirits come to the place of the simple ritual. I am also responsible for the ritual of praise of day and night, twice a year, on the solstice. These are the most important and obligatory, the rest is optional or requested in visions.

— No blood and torture, ritual bloodletting and other abominations. — I replied to the worried mother (the shield was down a bit and I was beginning to catch her moods again). — In fact, I have a strict restriction and limit on working with fauna and sacrifices, so even potions and draughts can only be brewed from plants and minerals.

— Well, — the woman sighs in relief. — That's good. I was expecting the worst... like drinking sake every day, or a harem of different magical species... — the woman smiles, looking up at the sky, and I'm curious.

— Does that happen? — No, really, does it happen?

— Spirits, demons, asuras, gods-they all think differently, and you never know what they'll come up with. My great-uncle had a harem with a harem. And he had to drink sake thirteen times a day, one sip at a time. So he carried a bottle with him everywhere. — A big, warm smile would appear on his mother's face, making her even more beautiful. — They also said that my great-grandfather always carried a silver purse with him. Whenever he had to cross the water, he had to sacrifice the silver, and when it rained, he had to sing a song of praise to the heavenly dragons! It was also said that he always tapped his stick on the table and scattered dried berries before eating.

— Yes... — I smile at the thought that I could have had such a chance, and I would have had to live all my life. — How lucky I am.

— Don't worry, son, — the woman said with a wry smile and patted me on the shoulder. — When you reach the world of the gods, you will entertain people with your daily rituals. The gods like to joke... — the woman laughed out loud at my reaction, and also at the fact that she was right, and such an outcome was very likely.

For about twenty minutes we walked up and down the intersecting stone staircases, going from one to the other on special platforms. All the while we joked about possible ridiculous commitments and how it might all look from the outside. When we came to one of the platforms, we saw a wide bench made of some light wood, and a dry old man sitting on it, with a long smoking pipe in his hand.

The old man was lazily crumbling bread for the small birds, blowing puffs of smoke, and talking softly to a well-fed cat that was lying on the bench nearby. The cat appeared to be asleep, but its ears gave it away, twitching and turning at the sound of our footsteps. Why the cat doesn't pay attention to the birds is a question.

— Hello, Oji-sama! — Mother bowed respectfully, and I followed her in silence.

Grandpa looked at us lazily, puffed on his pipe, opened his squinted eyes, closed them again and smiled broadly.

— Junko-chan! Long time no see! — The old man's words made the cat jump and open her golden eyes.

— Yes, it's been over ten years. — The woman nodded.

— I've heard about your family, granddaughter, it's a pity, they were good people, honest. — The old man looked at the flock of birds at his feet, said gravely, was silent for a while, and looked back in our direction. — Whom have you brought with you? — The cat's gaze was also interested.

— May I introduce my son, Hoshino Sora, first-class swordsman, Omyoji.

The last word caused the cat to react — his eyes opened wide and his tail flicked a few times. The old man did not seem impressed.

— I see, I see, the blood of your heir is strong, hot. — The old man nodded at his own words and thoughts. — I don't smell evil or the blood of the innocent on you, boy. And I smell your strength, and pride... yes... pride, almost pride. — Again the cloud of smoke rose and swirled. — Listen to your mother's advice, boy — she was taught by good and wise men. And as for skill, don't worry — everything will come in time, yes... — and the grandfather stopped talking, turned to the birds and crumbled another piece of bread for them.