While I wait for class to start and the students to file in, I set up the slides. Mystical Theory 101. I got the assignment for that as one of my classes. Last year I got stuck with the sophomores in the 200s, it’s a much nicer time to deal with the freshmen. They don’t know what they don’t know yet, and the Maestro running this Villa’s History of the Mystic hasn’t drilled into them the bad habit of timid silence that last year’s sophomores seemed to have. We have a lot of leeway in the order we teach our classes, but most of the time 101 is taught through the same basic schedule. The first month is an overview of the three core elements of Mystical theory, then each subsequent month focuses on the basics of each one.
Cost is a complicated subject. One with thousands of minute facets that are intricately connected with one another. The heart of the matter is, cost is the one element of Mystical theory that will not be understood by hardly any freshman. Not even the most voracious consumers of knowledge. Because of that fact, most of the time it is the first thing taught in the overview and the last thing taught in earnest. It’s also what 211 is entirely focused on, and not a part of the 102 curriculum at all. But as I said, there’s a lot of leeway about how exactly we teach things. And if tutoring Greg and dealing with Ter all these years taught me anything, it’s this: understanding the concepts behind the theories of cost in the mystic is applicable in far more situations than the concepts behind scale or metamysticism. Because cost, at its heart, is about a singular fact. A single, basic rule of the mystic. A rule which I believe also applies to non-mystical elements of the world as well. Nothing in this world can change how you want it to, not without some cost to you.
Students begin filing in, greeting me with half-hearted statements of “Hello, Magister Sobol.” I’ve gotten all my advisees calling me Nat or Natalya, but I keep it professional with most of the kids. Projected onto the whiteboard is bold, block letters saying COST. I prefer projecting onto the whiteboard over an actual screen, so when necessary I can write down notes on details in the presentation. The one of my advisees in my mystical theory class, Benjamin Lee, smiles as he walks in. “That article was nonsense, Magister Natalya,” he says. From the smile on his face, I’m not sure he meant that entirely negatively.
“It’s dense, sure, but it’s very interesting, and the more you understand it, the easier time you’ll have next year in 211 or 215,” I explain. I avoid mentioning any more about it yet. Discussion of the principle, and the article I decided to use to present it, is an important element of class. Of getting all these people comfortable sharing their opinions and understandings of the lessons with their teachers and each other. I’m also curious if any of them have any thoughts I never had about the principle.
He nods. “I’m sure it is. It was still a slog to get through. I didn’t even do my usual reread.”
From behind him, another voice chimes in. Katie Valentino. Another of my freshman advisees. “He’s lying, Nat,” she says with a smile, “He just doesn’t want you to realize that his lack of understanding is after re-reading it three times.” Katie walks in with Elaine Ennis, the third (and final) freshman advisee. I’m pretty sure they’re either very close friends or dating. My advisees tend to be nervous about sharing details of their personal lives with me, especially the newer ones. Some of the advisees that I’ve had for more than a year now are starting to open up more, especially the pair sophomores who suffered through my MT200s last year. Hopefully that should help the others to realize it’s acceptable to do so as well.
“Are you saying you understood any better?” he snipes back at her, half jokingly.
Elaine chuckles, “No, but we didn’t reread it.”
“You didn’t. I reread like half of it,” Katie insists, more in a ‘don’t be admitting to our teacher that I did the bare minimum’ sort of way than in an earnest statement of the situation.
“Go, sit, get ready to take some notes,” I say to my advisees, gesturing towards the group. The file into the classroom, spread out among the other apprentices. Intentionally so. Keeping the ones I’ve taught to be vocal about their understanding of material (and, when applicable, lack thereof) dispersed across the room helps to get the whole of the class more comfortable talking with me, with the class, and with each other.
The rest of the kids file in. It’s about a minute after class is theoretically supposed to start, but I don’t really know the situation. And more importantly, they all had about the hardest single reading assignment they’ll likely get prior to an advanced course. I’ll let them off easy today. “So, today we’re starting our journey into the basic principles and theories of cost. Before we begin though,” I flip the slide to one that reads ‘On the Practicalities and Methods of Determining the Indeterminable.’ the article I had them read for homework. “Quick show of hands, who had some trouble with reading the article?”
More than half the hands in the room raised. All those that were generally engaged in the class, and some that weren’t. Meant they must have really struggled.
“Anything in particular, or was it just too dense?” I ask.
One of the students, Melanie, decides to answer quickly. “It was just so vague. Like, I get it’s trying to talk about figuring out stuff that you can’t figure out from the title, but it’s almost intentionally obtuse.”
“Very good. Anyone have any idea why I might have assigned that reading?”
Elaine chimes in with a smirk. “Because you hate us,” she jokes.
I laugh. “Not quite,” I say.
“Because you want us to know some parts of this program are going to be really rough going?” another student, Quinton, says more as a question than a statement.
“I’ll leave that lesson to someone who wants to teach it,” I joke. Ben, at least, laughs at my jokes. Most people are still thinking about it.
“Alright, no more guesses?” I ask. There’s a murmur, some whispering, but nothing said to me or the class at large. “Fact is, this is one of the most difficult articles you are going to have to read. Possibly ever, depending on what classes you guys decide to take. But, as obtuse as it is, and Melanie, you’re right, it is intentionally that way, it’s also to this day the best article I’ve found to explain in depth what may well be the most important single element to understand cost. So, I wanted to introduce the concept, and the article, early so you can refer back to it throughout this month as we learn more.”
“And you didn’t tell us this beforehand because?” Quinton asks.
Katie answers for me. “She probably wanted to see if any of us were geniuses who understood it.”
“Not sure why,” Ben adds, “After all she knows us.” A laugh bursts out at that. I shake my head.
I clear my throat and the laughter quiets down. “So, we talked about cost briefly before, during the overview. Without looking at your notes, does anyone want to tell me the basic rundown of cost?” No hands go up immediately, no voices speak out. “Come on, you just took a test where this was on it. I haven’t graded it yet, but please tell me you didn’t all fail.”
Leroy, one of the quieter apprentices who mostly is quiet because he wants the lessons to go as quickly as possible, speaks up. “Cost is the concept that changing the world through mystical enacts a price upon the wielder, or the world, or both.”
“Close. It’s, at its heart, saying the rules of physics do sort of apply to the mystical practices, albeit in a twisted way. Action and reaction. Only, Mystic Cost and its relation to Mystic Practice is not nearly as straightforward as, say pushing a rock, because Mystic Practice itself isn’t that simple. Which brings us to the article. The article is about so many things literally, but it is centered on what may well be the most important, and most irritatingly disliked, principle of cost.” I flip the slide again. Across the top is simply ‘van Stassen’s Principle of Knowledge’. “Van Stassen’s Principle of Knowledge. You’ll learn more about who Jules van Stassen is in your History of the Mystic class, but outside of that class, he’s a relatively ancient scholar who came up with four simple, base principles related to understanding cost. This is the only one anyone actually talks about, as the other principles are superfluous to later, more specific and easier to understand ideas. Van Stassen’s principle of knowledge is simultaneously incredibly complicated and incredibly simple.”
“If it’s so simple, why not have us read it, instead of the intentionally obtuse article?” Katie interrupts to ask.
“Because the four principles are found interwoven in a book of parables written in Latin by a semi-literate French witch living in Julich in the fourteenth century. That said, if you are still interested, you will have to read that book for the 300 level class entirely about Mystic Cost, for those whose specialties require that.” There are some whispers, but no one is particularly interested in reading that sort of thing right now. Some of them will eventually, but they aren’t willing to do that yet. “Back to the principle,” I return us to the topic of discussion and click the slide to reveal the principle’s description, before I say it aloud. “It states that if significant time and effort has been unable to find a cost, or has found no cost, it is being taken from somewhere that is not being examined.” There’s some nodding, as other people are writing down the deceptively simple principle. “So, it seems pretty straightforward, right? Why is the article that best describes it so obtuse?” I posit the question aloud that is already in their minds.
“Because you hate us?” Elaine repeats her joke from earlier. Once again some people chuckle, though fewer. Some of those that found it funny before are too focused on the question.
“Wait a second,” Quinton interjects, “Isn’t that meaningless? It feels like it’s just saying if you’ve lost your keys and can’t find them where you’re looking, they’re where you aren’t looking.”
“Sort of right actually. Which actually is the first reason this is the most important principle of cost.” I love it when students accidently say things that are helpful. “Because whether or not you’ve found your keys,” I pause, revealing the next bullet on the slide, “They exist. The first, and simplest, takeaway from van Stassen’s principle of knowledge, there is always a cost. Doesn’t matter if it’s obvious or not, if you know it or not, it’s always there. Continuing with the key analogy,” I click again, “Looking repeatedly in the exact same place is not particularly helpful in finding the keys, unless you’re looking there in a substantially different way. Or, to take us back to the theoretical, if a cost is unknown, and someone did not find any indication of cost with one method, using that same method is pointless.” I pause as people write, and I try to figure out a way to bring my third and the strangest point from the principle back to the keys. I can’t think of one, so I click over the slide. “Sorry, not sure how to relate this to lost keys, but historically speaking, people were generally somewhat competent, so it can generally be assumed people knew anything they could know. Maybe like, if your keys are lost today, that doesn’t necessarily mean they were always lost, or that yesterday’s version of you just assumed the keys didn’t exist. This is the one that trips most people up, and not just because it doesn’t fit the key analogy,” I add. There’s a chuckle, and I continue. “Most people like to think humanity as a whole is the smartest we’ve ever been, because honestly we might be, we do have access to a lot more knowledge than ever before. But even though that’s true, we can’t assume incompetence or stupidity from those that came before. Because that is often wrong. For example, a half-literate man writing parables in a language he could not speak for an audience who spoke an entirely different language that he could not speak is still one of the most foundational theory texts we have. And of the reasons we don’t teach it now to you kids, it being in any way incorrect is not even on the list.”
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