《The Banished Monologues- The Geoptics》 Hunters and those Hunted Mud splattered her trousers as she walked. The lower city was never well maintained it seemed more like a place for a rat to die than for people to try and live. King Harold liked it that way. The Red Keep was a fractured city between mages scurrying away and the Red Knights trying to step on them. Isadora was the former. Her geoptic emerald eyes were hard to disguise and she could feel her spell waning like the midsummer sunlight. Hurrying from alleyways to narrow streets panic began to set in as her surroundings warped into unrecognizable territory. If she was out after dark then-! ¡®Isadora?¡¯ A familiar voice called from the dusk. ¡®¡­ Elizabeth¡­?¡¯ Her frail voice called back. Out of the shadows stepped another geoptic. Her eyes were not disguised so bright opals were in her eye sockets, skin slightly grey like rock. Isadora¡¯s own spell finally gave up as she ran to her, emeralds shining in the dark as they embraced. ¡®I got lost.¡¯ She stated dumbly. ¡®I can see that.¡¯ Elizabeth brushed some short hair from Isadora¡¯s child-chubby face. She told her to always keep it short, least it be grabbed in a brawl. She looked into her complex, emerald eyes. She¡¯d be caught and killed looking as a geoptic. By association alone Elizabeth would be killed no matter her race¡­ Was there anything harboring more ruination than family? ¡®Pay attention on the way, you¡¯re not that far from the entrance.¡¯ ¡®Ok.¡¯ She smiled despite the streaks of worry across her face. If a Red Knight was down in the lower city they¡¯d be put to the spear immediately. Kill on sight- it was something a poster, as large as the wall it was suck to, admitted proudly. There were countless posters all about the evil of magic. It made her head throb to see bloodstains on some of them. She felt her amulet around her neck, the Goddess of Battle. Elizabeth had a near identical one but it lacked a gemstone stuck under it. She had gifted the necklace to Isadora, saying the gem was lucky and to not take it off. However, she didn¡¯t seem like the superstitious type. Twisting and turning through allies like a rat in a maze they eventually make it to the correct one, a small door jammed at the very back, a river of mud like a mote to stop them. Isadora clung to the teenager like she could dissipate. It was dark, the sun had long set. She hated the dark. Sinking in the mud they walked over to the end of the alleyway and Elizabeth hit her knuckle against it with coded knocks. A few heartbeats later some metal scraped away, two eyes were hidden behind enchanted spectacles to detect falsehoods but unnecessary the geoptic eyes were a dead giveaway. He didn¡¯t bother with the password and after clanging of gears and metal did the door silently open. Isadora followed Elizabeth to a common enough trapdoor, nearly every house had one, but no other house had one like this. With a thud she opened it to show a ghostly outline of stairs descending into the dark. ¡®Forsa.¡¯ Elizabeth whispered and a potion corked in a glass bottle began to glow a sweet orange. It highlighted the steps in the void of darkness as Isadora focused on not falling off the edge of the sheer drop. The steps were softened and morphed from the thousand-thousand footsteps taken on them, making them smooth and even worse to walk on. ¡®This is so dangerous.¡¯ She squeaked. ¡®Don¡¯t worry yourself Isa.¡¯ Elizabeth fetched a different potion from her belt ¡®I have this, and just like I said before and before, I haven¡¯t needed to use it yet.¡¯ She pocketed the levitation spell and silence returned between the slap-sounding steps. A hundred and one, a hundred and two, a hundred and three¡­ Isadora counted, and once on one hundred and five Elizabeth vanished in front of her. The girl was unfazed. One hundred and six, one hundred and seven¡­ eight- suddenly sound, light and warmth struck her. The shield accepted her as they walked into the Trading Cavern, the heart of all sorcery! There were so many people the ground flowed like merging rivers as people soared through the air on brooms like birds. A band was playing nearby, strumming her with lively, joyous music. She struggled to make out the stall they wanted in the firelight, as she reached the bottom of the staircase. Elizabeth took her hand before walking into the dense crowds of people. ¡®No matter what, don¡¯t go far from me.¡¯ Elizabeth warned, like she had warned every time before, speaking loudly over the conversations of the crowd, shouts of joy from fliers, screams of spells going wrong and roars of caged animals. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡®I won¡¯t-.¡¯ She cut herself off from saying sister. ¡®Elizabeth. I never do.¡¯ She reassured and squeezed her hand three times to symbolize the words: I love you. Elizabeth¡¯s face softened before they walked in. Of course the stall they wanted was buried in the crowds but Elizabeth followed the route she had taken countless times before. Isadora passed all manner of people- not one the same! People wore tight metal for fire spells, pirate garb, long green robes, stone armour, colourful furs, while they carried long wands, crooked staffs, gemstones hung about them, feathers in their caps, boots stained with foreign soil, swords scabbard, creatures perched on their shoulders or chained to their wrist¡­ but the one thing they had in common was the red symbol on their temple. Everyone possible of magic was assigned a single class for them to learn freely, the tattoo symbolized the magic class. This was to control them, so no one could become too powerful. They naturally were a neutral black and it only shone red if the mage had betrayed one of the most serious laws¡­ when she was younger she assumed they would all eventually glow red. She had been signaled with naturalistic magic, the tattoo on her temple remained ink-black. Naturalistic magic, put bluntly, were potions and spells made from plants and the natural world. Geoptics were naturally skilled with magic, capable of using wands or just their words, but she was¡­ unlucky, she wasn¡¯t as good as the rest of her race. She had one thought the tattoo had somehow locked away the rest of her magic¡­ but that¡¯s not how it works, it was created from the skills one already has in their blood. Her eyes focused on Elizabeth¡¯s wand tucked into her belt and felt a pang of bitterness. With the newfound fear of magic nowadays a wand would cost as much as the person itself! Elizabeth could create potions and do Isadora¡¯s more simplistic ingredient-based magic, but Isadora could never use a wand. Her magic was never strong enough. ¡®It¡¯ll take time.¡¯ She¡¯d always say. Reaching the stall the smell of wet soil was pungent, the merchant was dripping wet. That meant his supplies were fresh! Isadora watched as Elizabeth collected the ingredients for eye changes. Her eyes focused on a magic tome and her stomach fluttered. A real tome! They were getting so rare nowadays! If anything could help with her magic it would be one of those. It¡¯s said the magic of the writer is infused into a tomes very pages and ink! ¡®How much for the tome?¡¯ Isadora shyly asked Elizabeth who looked to the ornate, thick book, an enchanted latch wrapped around it like a coiled snake. ¡®Oh, we can¡¯t afford something like that-.¡¯ The merchant cut her off ¡®for a power like that¡­¡¯ He removed the pipe from his crooked teeth ¡®a few psychic spells, a thousand gems or bone from a sea beast the size of me!¡¯ She felt a sinking feeling. Elizabeth ushered to the small pile she had gathered. ¡®All this for spell ¡®all this for ingredient com¡¯nation 1.567.¡¯ She said. A unique fireball spell, but being naturalistic magic meant it wasn¡¯t worth much. The one eyed merchant looked at her and snorted, some ash falling from his pipe, ¡®nah, no. All those for the earth spell 3.850.¡¯ The ability to form stone into spears. She tightened her lips, ¡®we don¡¯t have enough magical strength for mind magic, how ¡®bout the combination 2.76?¡¯ She was hoping an earth spell for manipulating stones would suffice. ¡®That¡¯s for wands ¡®n¡¯ staffs- you¡¯re a geoptic! You¡¯re¡¯ll psychic!¡¯ ¡®Geoptics are incredibly skilled with magic but it¡¯s not all innate, I¡¯ve never had a teacher so-.¡¯ ¡®Right, right, whatever. 2.76 will do!¡¯ After a relieved breath Elizabeth began to share her knowledge. In a land where magical knowledge was becoming more and more restrict spells began to replace money. A coin wouldn¡¯t stop a Red Knight from decapitating you, but a shield spell might¡­ Gathering the flora in a sack they walked to a slightly less crowded area. Sitting on the dirt Elizabeth began to go through the instructions for the hundredth time- ¡®I know, Elizabeth, let me.¡¯ Isadora took the pestle and mortar and began to mush up the eyeball with riverside soil. His Spellbound School With this fractured land there were suffering. However, there was those privileged from such torment and those who where blissfully unaware: Humphrey held three book tomes in his chubby arms. He was the latter. He spilled them across his desk before battering back some locks of blonde hair. Sitting at the front of class he listened intently to the teacher whose writing feather moved with a mind of its own over the board in front. The students around him doodled on their parchment or stared out the snow-suffocated window. It was snowing heavily walking back to his room would be unpleasant. Another rubbed their temples from the headache of a lesson, finger rubbing over the block Arctic God tattoo. They belonged to the school of Arctic magic, only ice or snow magic was taught. ¡®Does anyone know where magic was originally sourced?¡¯ Humphrey put his hand high in the air. The teacher¡¯s eyes cast about the room for a few moments more. No¡­ no one else raised their hand. ¡®Yes, Humphrey?¡¯ ¡®Fae blood.¡¯ ¡®No, it was from geoptic crystals. The fae were falsehoods to scare children a little younger than you all. They do not exist.¡¯ The ink scratched across the board, drawing a diagram of the geoptic homeland. ¡®Geoptics have similar crystals in their bodies, such as their eyes. Can anyone tell me how this affects them?¡¯ Another kid spoke up ¡®it gives them greater magical abilities.¡¯ ¡®Correct. It is from these crystals even felden can create spells.¡¯ Humphrey, sitting at his dorms desk, stared into one of these crystals. His homework was to make a potion. But the look of the dead insects caused his nose to crinkle. Disgusting. He slipped on the silk gloves provided, there was no chance he would touch one of those things with his bare hands. He was one of the few felden in the school. Geoptics would have no issue with spells. The same design for wands, wood with a core made of a gemstone rod, mimicked geoptic biology of having gemstone bones and eyes. Feeling nauseous from the look of it all he turned his chair to his window to look out at the snowy mountains. It was a school forgotten in the mountains. People use to travel home every now and then but due to ¡®circumstances¡¯ they were no longer allowed. He wondered what it could be¡­ certainly not the weather. The teachers were incredibly skilled with tolas (staff or wand magic) they¡¯d clear any turbulence with ease¡­ Not that he had anyone to go to. He was happy to hear everyone else would be trapped in the school over the holidays, it got awfully lonely when everyone left. His eyes flickered to his own staff above beautiful, golden awards clogging the shelves where books could not. He had an icy blue crystal with near white wood. The blue of his eyes shone in the shining crystal. He looked at his own palm and whispered the word for fire: ¡®fosla!¡¯ Nothing¡­ but not forever, just not now¡­ One day he would not need his staff. With a new sense of drive he turned his chair back to the mess in front of him, held his nose, and took the pestle and mortar and began crushing up the puc-juice with the claws of birds¡­ This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Annoyance gnawed at him. The spell wasn¡¯t working! He had mixed it all correctly, he was sure! As he walked the empty corridors to clear his head he heard a clock hand tick. It was nearing midnight- no teachers would help him at this hour. Usually he wouldn¡¯t dare disrupt his sleep like this, but he knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to sleep until the problem was conquered! Fortunately, the library never had a closing time. Walking across the ornately decorated corridors it resembled a castle more than a school from the golden chandeliers and white marble floors blanketed with deep coloured carpets, the colour depending on the area of the school. Across a green rug he approached the dark wood of the library doors he heaved one a crack open and slipped in, his belly catching the corner. A dozing librarian perched at her desk so he shut the door as gently as one could. From the rows and rows of books it was more like a maze than a library, but he had been amongst its pages more so than his own room. In the comforting darkness he lit a candle, the amber flame warming the area and highlighting the spines of the books closest to him. Naturalistic magic was a simple practise as long as one could be precise. Too much venom, or chips of stone, and the entire thing could explode, implode, vanish, all of the above, or more. He found the correct section quickly and slid a book free of the rest he didn¡¯t doubt he¡¯d already read. Releasing the candle it remained hovering in the air as he skimmed the pages of naturalistic fire spells. But then another cover caught his eye. THE DRA-CAST it read proudly of itself. Putting the other book on top of the rest he picked up the thin one. Easily to be missed from how miniscule it was¡­ ¡®The Dra-Cast, considering legend¡­¡¯ he mumbled aloud before rolling his eyes. It was a fairytale book. But despite his desire to return it he didn¡¯t, instead he kept reading¡­ ¡®Excuse me.¡¯ Humphrey looked to see the librarian wide awake, ¡®aren¡¯t you¡¯re classes starting?¡¯ Humphrey looked around, finger on the final page of the fairytale, and spotted the clock! ¡®Oh my!¡¯ He had read throughout the night! Slipping the book back he grabbed the still hovering candle and hurried away. In class he was provided the ingredients fresh in the snow. He hated the cold. He hadn¡¯t bathed nor changed, feeling and looking unkempt he groggily tried to the spell despite not finding the solution in the storybook he read. But he wasn¡¯t as irritated with himself as he thought it was a very good book, about the blood of God-worshippers creating stronger magic than ever before! A pipe dream. But more importantly, the protagonist whom saved the entire city from dragon fire¡­ a Dra-Cast, with the power and soul of a dragon with the blood of a God, one could only dream of such strength¡­ He wondered if there ever would be another¡­ Geoptics were creatures of magic, perhaps if there was a Dra-Cast it would be a gem-eyed. Alone, they could conquer the world. He was only stopped by a Banished God. Yes, it was a fairytale and thankfully so. For one to have such power was a terrible thing. He felt his temple, the black tattoo to symbolize he was learning Arctic magic and nothing more. It would glow crimson if he began learning different spells and then killed for it. The worst crime of all. The Red Army Isadora scratched her knuckles. Her new white wrappings, only around her hands, were starting to itch. Looking up she stared at the poster on the wall of the upper city: Ruling 0: Geoptics are to be killed on sight Ruling 1.A: Any practice of naturalistic magic is punishable by death Ruling 1.B: Any practice of tolas magic is punishable by death Ruling 1.C: Any practice of psychic magic is punishable by death Ruling 2.A: If you see any mages and do not report them immediately this will result in imprisonment Ruling 2.B: If you discover any magic items hand those in to the local guard, failure to do so will result in imprisonment Ruling 2.C: If- She turned her head away and followed Veyra to buy some food. Terrifying. All manner of new recruits would read it today and feel pride. Trainees would be trying outing for Red Knight positions. They¡¯ll be worsening The Red Kings ruling to kill every mage and geoptic possible. Speaking of, her eyes caught a foreigner, looking like he just stepped off the boat. The felden stopped his trek and admired the same poster. His amber eyes bored into the first ruling to kill geoptics and a flutter of joy coursed through him. Suddenly a teenager, not much younger than him bumped into him. Veyra quickly apologized, her amulet reflecting sunlight, before hurrying off and vanishing into a crowd. Damn Droconions. He thought. He curled his lip at the thought of worshipping a God. Disgusting mages. Everyone back home said he was stupid to travel to Drocon for a war that didn¡¯t affect them but he was never so sure of a choice before. He unfurled his map and tried to find where he was¡­ ¡®Sill-sow Street?¡¯ He mumbled to himself before looking for the sign. ¡®I think it¡¯s this way.¡¯ His brother pointed up the hill-city to the very top, where the castle resided. The walk would be a good warm up, he decided. Beginning the walk he only had to lug himself, armour and weapons were provided, but he did bring his years of training. He had beaten everyone in his tiny village countless times and he had the calluses to prove it. The only one to match him was his brother. But village-folk weren¡¯t enough. They would go up against mages! The very concept of fighting was different against them. He had done whatever research he could, about pairs, a Sword and a Shield, but it all still eluded him so he would have to learn quickly. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Striding higher a few kids ran past, chasing after their ball, but due to the slight decline he had a feeling they would be running for a long time, which made him chuckle. Finally reaching the upper most part of the city it was completely different to the lower city filth he had to walk past. Light brick shone in sunlight which was reflected by paint stained windows. Blooming flowers clung to the chalky rock, his shoes clinking against stone paved streets, tiny blades of emerald grass poking through. His nose twitched at the smell of sweet baked goods and his mouth watered. On instinct he reached for his coin purse, only to feel air. He violently tapped his belt and hips- he had been robbed! Rage bubbled through his slight hunger- no, it wouldn¡¯t ruin his day. He had worked too hard to pay for the boat trip and trained too hard to fail now. His dream was being achieved some missing silvers wouldn¡¯t change that! Chest swelling with pride he turned to where to go next¡­ where was the sign ups? He scratched his head, there were no more signs, the map simply read upper city in a circle of grey. He looked to his brother, who shrugged helplessly. Helpful. Wandering through the streets he followed a few groups that looked knight-worthy but that led nowhere. But on turning his blood ran cold. A knight. Not a Red Knight but similar to a walking shadow. Pitch black armour covered them completely, a sword nearly the same height strapped to his back, blades tied to their legs, face covered by a sheet of metal so their eyes didn¡¯t even shine through. How could they see? He went toward him, shrugging off Garrisons clutches to keep him away from the stranger. ¡®Excuse me.¡¯ He forced a deep voice. Someone like them must have known the way. ¡®I¡¯m looking to sign up to become a Red Knight.¡¯ The dark one nearly insultingly looked him up and down, and then titled their head to the end of the street. ¡®This way¡­?¡¯ He asked before going down the alley, Garrison keeping very close, and nearly bumping into another felden in the blinding sunlight. A long line of people stretched away, facing a large stall titled SIGN UPS. He turned to thank the stranger but they were already gone.