Theron needed more information.
Watching from the window was useful. He could see what the nobles did. The shapes they drew. The way they moved. But he couldn't hear everything Lycurgus said during lessons, and he couldn't see the small details — the exact way fingers were positioned, the precise timing of a breath, the subtle shift in posture before a cast.
He needed to get closer.
The problem was that servants weren't supposed to be in the training yard. It wasn't forbidden exactly, but it was understood. The nobles trained there. Servants cleaned the sand afterward. That was the arrangement.
So Theron needed a reason to be near it that wouldn't raise suspicion.
It took him three days to find one.
On a Thursday afternoon, Philippos sent him to deliver a book to one of the guest quarters on the other side of the estate. The shortest path went past the training yard.
Lycurgus was there, alone. The lesson was over. He was sitting on a stone bench at the edge of the yard, drinking water and wiping sweat from his forehead with a cloth.
Theron walked past. Slowly. Not too slowly — just slow enough to be seen.
Lycurgus glanced up. Looked at the book under Theron's arm. Looked back down at his water.
Theron kept walking.
He made it five steps before he stopped, turned back, and approached the bench. His heart was beating faster than he wanted it to.
"Master Lycurgus," he said, keeping his voice respectful. Humble. The way a servant was supposed to sound.
Lycurgus looked up again. Suspicious this time. "What do you want?"
"I apologize for disturbing you. I had a question. If you have a moment."
"About what?"
Theron had rehearsed this. He'd spent two days figuring out exactly what to ask — something that sounded innocent enough that Lycurgus wouldn't be alarmed, but specific enough to get a useful answer.
"I work in the library," Theron said. "I've been cataloging old texts. I found one about athletic training — wrestlers and boxers. It described how they prepare their bodies before competition. Stretching, breathing exercises, that sort of thing."
He paused.
"I noticed that Lord Alexios also stretches before he practices. I wondered if it was related. Whether physical preparation affects magical casting the same way it affects athletics."
It was a risk. He was basically admitting he watched the training yard. But he framed it as casual observation — something anyone might notice in passing.
Lycurgus studied him for a long moment.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. A short, rough sound.
"A librarian who reads about wrestling," he said. "That's a new one."
Theron said nothing. Waited.
Lycurgus took another drink of water. Then he leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms.
"Your observation is correct," he said. "Physical preparation matters. More than most people realize."
"May I ask why?"
Lycurgus considered this. He didn't seem threatened. More like amused — a student asking a genuine question, even if that student was just a servant.
"The body is a conduit," he said. "Magic flows through it. If your body is tense, the flow is blocked. If you're relaxed, it moves freely."
"A conduit for what, exactly?"
Lycurgus raised an eyebrow. "Pushing your luck, library boy."
Theron immediately backed off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to —"
"Relax." Lycurgus waved a hand. "It's called pneuma. The energy that makes magic possible. It flows through channels in the body. The same way blood flows through veins."
He held up his right hand and flexed his fingers.
"Here. In the hands. That's where it exits when you cast. But it originates deeper. In the chest. The core of the body."
He tapped his sternum with one finger.
"If you're tense, the channels constrict. The pneuma can't flow properly. The spell fails or comes out weak. That's why we stretch. That's why we breathe before casting. We're opening the channels. Letting the pneuma move."
Theron was memorizing every word. His face showed nothing.
"The breathing is the most important part," Lycurgus continued. "Not just any breathing. A specific pattern. Inhale deep — four counts. Hold — two counts. Exhale slow, during the incantation. The hold is where the pneuma gathers. The exhale is where it releases."
He paused.
"If you breathe wrong, the spell fails. Every time. No exceptions."
Theron nodded slowly, like he was absorbing something mildly interesting rather than the most valuable information he'd ever received.
"That's fascinating," he said. "Thank you, Master Lycurgus. I appreciate you explaining."
Lycurgus shrugged. "It's not secret knowledge. Every mage learns it in their first year of training."
But no one teaches it to servants, Theron thought. Because no one thinks servants could use it.
"One more question, if you don't mind," Theron said.
"Make it quick."
"The stretching routine Lord Alexios does before casting — is it the same for everyone? Or does each person have a different one?"
"Same basic routine," Lycurgus said. "Shoulders, arms, spine, hands. Open the main channels. Some people add extra steps depending on what they're casting, but the fundamentals don't change."
He stood up and grabbed his water skin.
"Now go deliver your book, library boy. And stop lurking around my training yard."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
Theron turned and walked away. His hands were shaking slightly. He shoved them into the folds of his robe so Lycurgus wouldn't see.
He delivered the book. He finished his work for the day. He walked home.
And the moment he was through his door, he sat down at his table and wrote everything down before he forgot a single word.
LYCURGUS — KEY INFORMATION:
1. Magic flows through the body via channels (called "pneuma channels")2. Channels constrict when body is tense3. Stretching opens channels — shoulders, arms, spine, hands4. Breathing pattern is critical:— Inhale: 4 counts, deep— Hold: 2 counts (pneuma gathers here)— Exhale: slow, during incantation (pneuma releases here)5. Wrong breathing = failure. Every time.6. Pneuma originates in the chest. Exits through the hands.7. This is standard teaching. Not secret. Just never shared with non-nobles.
He stared at the notes.
Lycurgus had given him everything without realizing it. He thought he was just answering a librarian's casual question about exercise. He had no idea that the information he'd just handed over was the missing piece Theron had been looking for.
The breathing pattern. That was the key he'd been missing in his own experiments. He hadn't been breathing correctly. He'd been breathing casually, naturally, without any structure at all.
No wonder nothing had happened.
He looked at his fire crystal, sitting on the table where he'd left it after his last failed attempt.
Tonight, he was going to try again.
But this time, he was going to do it right.
End of Chapter Seven