Mimi had spoken in a small voice, but there was something behind her words, something more than fear. Belamus studied her face, and for a fleeting moment, he saw it: not panic, but resolve. A different emotion entirely, quietly taking root in her heart.
Meira was obviously planning to accompany her into the cave, Belamus thought. But if I speak with her, I can probably convince her to let me take her place instead. He wasn’t worried. If he could demonstrate his strength clearly enough, Meira would listen. She was pragmatic like that.
Then Mimi looked up at him, her eyes nervous but determined. “Hey, Belamus… I was thinking. I don’t want to go into that cave weak and helpless. Even if I can’t do much, I’d feel better knowing I’ve at least tried to get stronger. You said before that even dwarves might be able to use magic… Do you think you could teach me?”
Belamus gave a quiet chuckle. “That’s easy enough. But you realize there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to use it before we reach the cave, right?”
“I know,” she said quickly, “but I still want to try. I want to do everything I can.”
He nodded. It made sense. If she could build even a little strength of her own, maybe she wouldn’t feel so paralyzed with fear when they finally stepped into the dark. And if she wasn’t just waiting to be protected, if she could stand on her own, even a little, it might change how she faced everything ahead.
They didn’t have much time, but if they trained hard, it might be possible to get her to use basic attack magic. That said, it wasn’t even certain that dwarves could wield magic in the first place. The theory had never been tested. Either way, there was no point wasting time on speculation. He would train her the same way he had trained the goblins before, by starting with the simplest spell: Light.
“If you can’t get this one down, the others won’t come any easier,” he said, demonstrating the proper technique. “Focus on the image in your mind: pure light. Picture it forming at your fingertips.”
“Hmm… okay. I’ll try…” Mimi didn’t sound entirely confident, but she gave it her best shot. Standing stiffly, she closed her eyes, furrowed her brow, and repeated the incantation under her breath. “Light… Light…”
Nothing happened.
Again and again she tried, whispering the spell, hands slightly raised, lips pursed in concentration. “Light… Light… Light…”
Still nothing.
Belamus wasn’t surprised. Instant success, like Delarosa’s, was an anomaly. Most people needed a full day of practice before they could even spark the faintest glow.
Mimi didn’t give up.
She kept chanting, kept visualizing. Ten times. Twenty. On the thirtieth attempt, just as Belamus was starting to think she might need to rest, something shifted. A tiny sphere of golden light flickered into existence above her palm.
“I-I did it!” she gasped, eyes wide with wonder. “I actually did it!”
Belamus hadn’t expected her to master the Light spell so quickly. It hadn’t been instant—not like Delarosa, who was an outlier even among prodigies—but on her thirtieth try, Mimi had conjured a flawless orb of golden light. Her success wasn’t just fast; it was extraordinary.
And it didn’t stop there.
Once they moved on to beginner-level combat spells, her progress only accelerated. Fireball, Water Cannon—she picked them up with startling ease, weaving elemental energy as if her body already knew the rhythm of magic. What impressed Belamus even more was her endurance. She cast spell after spell, and yet her magical power reserves hardly showed signs of depletion. She had an unusually deep well of magical power for a novice, and by all appearances, it was natural, not the result of training or bloodline rituals. In terms of sheer magical capacity, she might even surpass Delarosa.
It made him pause. Was this something innate to dwarves as a race? Had no one ever tested their aptitude seriously? The implications were dizzying. If all dwarves possessed even a fraction of Mimi’s potential, they could become a magical force to rival empires. He almost hoped that wasn’t the case, because if it were, it meant their people had been sitting on a sleeping dragon’s hoard of power all this time.
To test the theory, he briefly turned to Rugen, an elder in their group, and tried teaching him the same basic principles. The results were immediate and dismal. The older dwarf couldn’t grasp the most fundamental spellcasting flow. It confirmed what Belamus suspected: Mimi wasn’t riding on dwarven aptitude. She was the exception. A true magical prodigy.
Mimi, of course, had no idea just how unusual she was. After another cleanly executed Fireball, she turned to him with a puzzled frown. “Is it… strange that this is all coming so easily? Am I actually good at this?”
Belamus raised an eyebrow. “Strange? No. Exceptional? Absolutely.”
She stared at him, clearly unconvinced. “I’ve never been good at anything. Ever. And now suddenly I’m good at magic? That doesn’t even feel real.”
“Magic doesn’t care about what you were good at before,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “You have talent. That much is obvious.”
She looked down at her hands, where a faint shimmer of magical power still danced between her fingers. For a moment, she was quiet, then her lips curled into a smile. It was small and a little unsure, but warm in a way Belamus hadn’t seen from her before. Not pride. Not vanity. Just quiet joy, the kind that came from discovering something inside yourself you never knew was there.
“You really think so?” she murmured.
“I know so,” he replied without hesitation.
And just like that, something in her eyes changed. She stood straighter. Her hands steadied. Whatever fear had been clinging to her earlier now had something to contend with: confidence, not born of bravado, but of earned belief.
From that point on, their lessons deepened. Belamus stayed with her constantly, guiding her through spells with the same precision and care he used when training soldiers. Time was short, but Mimi didn’t waste a second. Her focus sharpened. Her control refined. And with every spell cast, she stepped closer to becoming not just a protected royal, but a force in her own right.