While Elvira continued her search for the next generation of commoner mages, the first snows finally arrived in the city. It was sudden. After a particularly chilly evening, the citizens made sure to throw some extra logs into their fires. They settled beneath thick blankets and feather duvets, as the howling winds rattled their window shutters. Then overnight, a white blanket covered the streets.
The following morning people stepped out onto piles of fresh snow. There was no snow clearing planned for the city. There was no need for it. Thousands of boots would trample it down into a more walkable surface. Then, depending on temperatures, it could remain there for months until the rains melted it away.
Even narrow alleys had enough traffic to naturally create passages through. The city was extremely dense, with families of four, six, or sometimes as many as ten people squeezing into single room apartments. Especially if they were poor. Only specialist craftsmen, like blacksmiths or carpenters could afford multiple rooms. Or families with multiple adult children still living at home.
That still left the snowy roads, but carriages could simply switch to sleds. They would be much more efficient than wheeled wagons in these conditions. Servants would make sure to de-ice the steps and walkways inside of their lords’ compounds, but they wouldn’t care about the conditions outside. In some ways, traveling away from the city would be easier than moving through it. The sleds could easily slide across the flat surfaces and it was even more comfortable than doing so on cobbled roads. Of course, rapidly changing weather still made that a little risky.
Duke Jan’s soldiers didn’t manage to completely finish their lodging in time, but they were ready for winter. Most of the troops had accommodations prepared and those that were left found housing inside of the city walls. While the men could no longer build new structures in the cold, they could switch to improving their conditions inside.
As volunteers from towns across the kingdom, many brought specialized skills with them. Some were apprentice carpenters and could create decent furniture when provided with the tools. They focused on improving the kitchens. The others built their own beds, tables, and benches. The quality would be a little shoddy, but decent enough. Besides, every man had the incentive to try as hard as possible to provide their own comforts.
Even the castle was affected. Freezing temperatures made it impossible to continue Varre’s training outside, so his lessons had to be moved indoors. Kerryn wasn’t thrilled, but he was prepared for this. The same exact thing happened every year.
The dining room was temporarily switched to a makeshift training area. The furniture was moved aside, and a large open space was cleared in the middle. Unfortunately, the king wouldn’t be able to fully test his skills in an enhanced state anymore. There was too much risk of actually damaging expensive tapestries, or breaking one of the windows when a weapon went flying out of someone’s hand.
Instead the king focused on sparring. He still had plenty of techniques to learn and Kerryn began teaching him how to use different weapons on top of that. The longsword was Varre’s bread and butter. He would have it with him at all times and could use it to hold off an enemy, while waiting for help to arrive. Still, an understanding of other tools could save his life.
As the monarch’s skills grew, the adventurer started introducing alternatives. An arming sword held together with a shield. A hammer. A spear. A halberd. All of these were practiced on foot, but this knowledge would come in handy. If the king was ever caught by surprise, without his horse, he would be ready to defend himself with whatever weapons were nearby. Plus he know knew what to expect from his attackers.
The Royal Guards were happy to provide good sparring partners. They spent their childhoods learning about combat and were experts in a large variety of weapons. Each had their preferences too, so whenever Varre improved enough to defeat an amateur, he could switch to a more advanced enemy. Or even an expert.
But the king understood that his fighting skills alone would not change the outcome of the coming war. Instead, he needed a well trained army, a large treasury, and the full implementation of his latest plan. An entire cohort of wizards.
Elvira was planning to start teaching her students soon, regardless of the snow, and had to decide on the final selection of candidates. Varre didn’t know much about the specifics of magical education, but he understood the results he wanted. He decided to approach the girls as their predicted schedule was reaching its end.
“Have you finalized the new curriculum?” the king asked, sitting down on the sofa inside the Court Mage’s quarters.
“The big picture at least,” Elvira replied, “much of the details will be in the hands of the teachers.”
Varre nodded. “I heard that some people are still coming to the mansion for testing. I know you haven’t finished all of the talent checks, but do you have some idea of how many students you want in the end?”
“Yes. We’ve mostly gone through the reports already,” the Court Mage began.
“It was a nightmare!” Jury groaned, “so much paperwork…”
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Elvira ignored her. “The results were quite interesting. I don’t think anyone has done such a comprehensive study of the detailed talents of commoners before.”
Varre raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I thought they were allowed to become adventurers. Don’t they get checked there?”
“Sure, but only extraordinary people decide to go that route,” the Court Mage explained, “no one had ever done tests on a scale like this before.”
“Mages like to show off their research,” Perry added, “and sharing fun facts about commoners is not something to do in polite company. It wasn’t really worth anyone’s time before.”
“Fair enough. I see your point,” the king sighed, “I imagine they’re exactly as human as the nobility? And if we ever reveal this information there would be an outrage?”
“It’s not quite that bad,” Elvira chuckled, “I know that some aristocrats can be a stuck up, hells I’d be the first to admit it, but they’re not that extreme. There were some theories about commoner talents already. Now we simply have proof,” she took a sip from her goblet of mulled wine, “but you were right on the mark, of course. The commoners have slightly lower magical attributes, but only on average. There are outliers.
“It’s probably due to their lifestyle, as most don’t have the time to meditate and properly develop their power and aura. On the other hand, their strength is often higher. So is their toughness and dexterity. Most of the teenagers we tested already work in the family business, where they get a lot of exercise. They start young, before most nobles even think about becoming squires.”
“Have we found enough candidates?” Varre asked.
“We have,” the Court Mage replied, “as many as we had slots to fill.”
“Now we are limited by the number of teachers, and not the archmage’s arbitrary rules,” Perry said.
“That’s right,” Elvira continued, “that’s why the communication mages will remain the same. Our two experts will coach sixty pupils. That should be plenty to distribute throughout the nation, or assign to armies as they travel.”
“Just think of how much we could prepare if we knew exactly what was going on in the Elven homeland,” the king agreed, “they will be absolutely vital. And the healers?”
“I’ve split them now,” the Court Mage explained, “we will teach sixty dedicated healers, and another sixty alchemists working to prepare their potions and poultices.”
Varre nodded. “Excellent. Is there any reason why we’re sticking to this exact number?”
“Well, the guild normally keeps the classes at around ten, fifteen people,” Elvira said, “this way the teacher can assist each student with their casting. For lectures, they can be combined to double size. It’s rare to ever go much beyond that, since the academy never gets that many students. I raised the number on account of our situation, but if we want our students to actually learn anything…”
“I understand, then we will have sixty healers when we go to war. That’s much better than zero,” the king smiled.
“Well, depending on when they’re needed, they might not be proper physicians yet,” the Court Mage grimaced, “it’s one of the more complicated magical fields. It takes years of study at the guild and then further years of apprenticeship under a master. Most nobles have already decided on this path years in advance. They focused their education on herbology and botany since childhood and their families had negotiated contracts with their teachers in advance.”
“But don’t worry, they’ll still be useful,” Perry cut in and grabbed her sister’s shoulder, “we’re also just apprentices, but we can help with many things. People like us take care of the tedious jobs, so the experts can focus on the more difficult tasks.”
“I’ve seen your work. If that’s what I can expect from new apprentices, I’ll be happy,” Varre complimented the twins.
“Not to disappoint, but they won’t be quite at our level either,” Jury said, “we finished our education at the guild already. And that took us six years.”
“We’ll condense their education as much as we can,” Elvira added quickly, “focus on healing injuries over sicknesses, that sort of thing. At least in the beginning. They’ll help. Not to mention the alchemists!”
The king raised his hand to stop her. “I know, even if they can only save half of the injured, or hell, even just a quarter, that will be a big boon. Or if they can assist the masters with saving more lives. Every little bit counts.”
The Court Mage nodded back. “And then we have one hundred and twenty shield mages. I’ve doubled the number here.”
“That’s great news,” Varre commented, “maybe we’ll actually be able to deploy them to the frontlines and stop those slingers. Are you that worried about their attacks that you focused on shields so much?”
Elvira awkwardly scratched her neck. “Well that… But mostly it was easier to find the teachers. All wizards understand the principle.”
The king chuckled. “Fair enough.”
“And then we have the combat mages. All sixty of them. The best I could find,” the Court Mage said proudly.
“They’re surprisingly good,” Jury admitted, “or at least their attributes are.”
“Yes. It was easy to decide on the rough quantities,” Elvira leaned back, “the real problem was choosing where each student should be assigned.”
“Don’t get me started on that!” Jury groaned again.
Perry looked to her sister and shook her head at the theatrics. “We did it based on their attributes and occasionally abilities. Those with high power went to combat, that was easy. The others were harder.”
“Ideally they’d need both,” the Court Mage explained, “but we have to make some concessions. Communication mages need a lot of aura. Shield ones too, but they also need enough power to reliably stop incoming projectiles. Then healers could use a little bit both and alchemists need the least. But that still leaves the edge cases. All the slots need to be filled, but some fields may be more important than others.
“And then a few had some abilities to throw things into the mix,” she started counting off, “two had abilities that increase their aura pools, another one that gave him greater control with telekinesis, then we had one with stronger offensive spells at the cost of increased consumption of aura… there was even one with an increased sense of smell,” she smiled, “at least he was easy to decide on. The perfect herbalist if I’ve ever seen one.”
“It took us days to sort through them all!” Jury complained and Perry elbowed her in the side.
“But we did it!” Elvira raised her goblet and all four clinked theirs together, “mostly. We still have a few candidates being tested, but we’ll assign them as we see fit. The sixty students is not a hard limit.”
“Excellent work girls,” Varre congratulated them, “so will they all fit in that one mansion?”
The Court Mage laughed. “About that… Would you mind if I requisitioned three? And an extra fourth outside of the city?”
The king grinned. “If it gets me my mages, you can take all of them.”
It seems like people started seriously trying to shovel it away somewhere around the 1800s, but before that they mostly let it be.
Of course, the weather was colder during the Little Ice Age, so snow tended to last the whole winter and you didn't have to worry about it refreezing over night. You only had to be careful around fortifications, metal portcullis, that sort of thing. They were expensive and fragile to moisture.