Idiosyncratic Inscription Instructor

Riniock's luck held; he caught Lazrus just as the gatekeeper was unlocking his front door. The man paused, hand out and stretched, and turned with a faint smile.

 'Riniock?' Lazrus said, his eyes glinting with curiosity. He managed to notice him before he even attempted to announce himself. 'What a pleasant surprise.'

 'Good afternoon, sir. I hope I'm not interrupting.'

 'Not at all,' Lazrus replied, gesturing towards the open door. 'Care to join me inside?'

 'If it's no trouble.'

 'None at all.'

 Riniock stepped into the threshold, once again struck by the familiar sensation of the cabin expanding on the inside. The modest exterior belied the spacious and warmly furnished interior. The air was just as he remembered it, rich with the scent of herbs and aged wood, a comforting contrast to the brisk air outside.

 'You know your way around, right?' Lazrus asked, hanging up his coat and pulling off his boots. Riniock nodded in response.

 'Good,' Lazrus continued with a smile. 'Make yourself comfortable while I fetch us some tea.'

 Riniock eased into one of the sofas by the hearth, his eyes wandering over the shelves stacked with scrolls, relics, and assorted trinkets. The warmth from the fireplace seeped into his bones, easing the tension that had followed him all day.

 'So,' Lazrus began, bringing back tea, 'what brings you here today?'

 Riniock straightened. 'I've come to ask for another lesson.'

 The gatekeeper raised a brow, a wry smile tugging at his lips. 'Oh? Do you take me for an instructor now? Or are the college's professors so inadequate that you're forced to seek out my humble teachings?'

 Riniock hesitated, choosing his words carefully. It wasn't that the professors were unqualified – their knowledge was vast – but their slow, measured pace frustrated him. He thrived on progress, on momentum. And here, with Lazrus, he found that edge.

 He weighed his options, his wariness of trust flaring briefly, but then took a breath. 'My teachers are fine,' he finally said.

 'Then why seek me out every time you need guidance?' Lazrus's eyes narrowed, gleaming with an intensity that seemed to pierce through Riniock's defences, as though searching his very core for answers.

 'Because I can count on no one else.'

 The room hung in silence for a moment, the crackling fire filling the space between them. Lazrus' gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained serious.

 The gatekeeper let out a sigh. 'I hope you've brought me something to make it worth my while. As much as I enjoy your company, time spent must have its rewards.'

 Riniock allowed a small smile. 'Naturally. That's one of the reasons I feel at ease with you.'

 Lazrus chuckled, the sound low and approving. 'Fair enough. Let's see if we can't push you further along your path.'

 Lazrus leaned back, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. 'I know for a fact that your family deals in magickal flora. I would have my pick of one as payment.'

 Riniock nodded, determination evident in his stance. He placed his arcane tome carefully on the table, the ancient cover catching the flicker of the firelight. 'I need you to teach me how to inscribe spells.'

 Lazrus raised an eyebrow. 'That request is entirely based on your achievements first. Have you already practiced the movements, the gestures, the control of odh in your body?'

 'Already done!' Riniock declared, his eagerness cutting through the air like a blade.

 The gatekeeper's smile widened, his respect for the boy's dedication growing. 'Well then, the hard part is over. Now comes the long part.'

 He leaned forward, fingers drumming lightly on the table. 'Because of the bond you've formed with your arcane tome, anything you write in it – as long as it's within your capabilities – will be both committed to the tome and embedded in your memory. That's the power of attunement and of the tome's mystical properties.'

 Riniock's eyes sparkled with anticipation.

 'To inscribe a spell,' Lazrus continued, 'you'll need ink that's durable enough to endure the wear of time. A long-lasting ink, something resistant to degradation. But ink alone won't complete the process – you also need a clear understanding of how the spell works. Your method of notation matters, not that of the creator of the spell. You can write descriptions, draw diagrams, or map out the flow of odh. Whatever it takes for you to recall the spell's essence instantly when you're in the heat of casting.'

 Lazrus tapped the tome gently. 'The goal is to make sure the knowledge remains fixed, never slipping away when you need it most.'

 Riniock's fingers curled around the tome's edges. He could feel the weight of potential resting in his hands, ready to be unlocked.

 'Are you ready for this commitment?' Lazrus asked, his tone serious. 'Because once you inscribe a spell, it becomes part of you – for better or worse.'

 Riniock's jaw tightened, resolve etched across his face. 'I'm ready.'

 'Good,' Lazrus said, his smile returning. 'Let's begin.'

 For the next seven days, Riniock dedicated himself to visiting Lazrus as soon as the gatekeeper's shift ended. From the moment he stepped into the small yet expansive abode until he left, he remained focused and diligent, immersed in the intricate art of spell inscription. The spell book he studied was a treasure trove of techniques – not just one spell, but an assortment, each designed for specific and practical uses.

 Despite his commitment, Riniock couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. It wasn't long before he discovered the source: Jorian's cold, scrutinizing eyes, tracking his movements outside of lessons and beyond the sanctuary of Lazrus' dwelling.

 Meanwhile, his studies with the professors continued. He absorbed lessons on history, renowned maegi, magickal institutions, and a range of theoretical and practical subjects. Yet, his most significant education came from Lazrus.

 It was from the gatekeeper that Riniock learned a profound truth: mortals were never meant to wield odh. This immense power could disrupt a maegi's mind, affecting memory and focus. That's why arcane tomes were invented – to anchor spells safely within a maegi's grasp.

 As the seventh night descended, Riniock prepared to leave Lazrus' home for the final time. He bowed respectfully. 'I owe you so much, sir. Thanks to your guidance and the use of your training room, I can now inscribe and cast my spells. I already feel stronger.'

 Lazrus shook his head with a wry smile. 'Your progress is your own. I only provided advice.'

 'Even so, this wouldn't have been possible without you.'

 The gatekeeper's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'A word of caution, Riniock. Knowing how to cast a spell and having the experience to wield it effectively are two very different things. Don't overestimate yourself. Practice against real opponents – if any of your peers are up to the challenge.'

 Riniock nodded, his expression serious. 'I understand. I'll keep that in mind.'

 He returned to his dormitory, refusing to relax his discipline. He continued harnessing odh and filling his vessel, each moment drawing him closer to mastery. Tomorrow, important guests were set to arrive at the college, and Riniock was certain their visit would hold significance for him.