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[credere]

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[magician_king]

Down, and down, and down, he hits one nail after the other, lining all three up in a neat little row, straight as can be.

He lets out a sigh, and sits back, pleased, smiling.

[credere]

Credence hesitates for a moment, then reaches out and picks up the board. It doesn't feel magic. If this was the first he'd seen of it, he'd assume the nails had simply been hammered in. Albeit very neatly.

"Was this one of the first things you learned?"

[magician_king]

"Nope."

He admits;

"You start with something more neutral. A marble- and you heat it, cool it, make it invisible, etcetera."

[credere]

"How long do you do that for?"

[magician_king]

"A long few months of intensive training."

He says, with a shake of his head.

"We won't make you into that kind of magician, unless you're feeling super self-flagellating."

[credere]

He frowns.

"I don't understand. Are there different kinds?"

He understands from previous conservation that Quentin's magic is different to, say, Newt's - but surely one's not significantly easier to learn than the other?

(Then again, he should have gone to Ilvermorny aged eleven.)

[magician_king]

"Sure. There are wizards like Newt, magicians like me, hedgewitches like Chloe."

He says, with a faint smile.

"It's like how you can be a writer of many different kinds of books."

[credere]

"But - writing is always the same, isn't it?"

He's not at all sure about this metaphor.

[magician_king]

"Never. It's so different."

He says, laughing.

"Each author is as unique as each person."

[credere]

"Oh." The laughter makes him shrink in on himself. Why shouldn't he be so ignorant? He's never read a book that wasn't Biblical study.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

[magician_king]

"Don't apologize, it's not bad."

He promises, warmly.

"It just means we should read more."

[credere]

Credence makes a strange, choked sound.

"I don't know how I can do magic if I w-won't even read."

[magician_king]

"Well, there is definitely going to be more reading."

He admits, with a wince.

"It's a reading-heavy discipline."

[credere]

He stares at the wood, the nails, and drags his knees to his chin. Makes himself small.

"I don't...why...why do you want this for me?"

[magician_king]

"Imagine you knew the way to make it so that every few years I didn't feel like crawling away from the rest of the world and never coming out again."

He instructs.

"If I didn't see it- but you could see a path that'd make my life normal?"

[credere]

Credence furrows his brow.

"...I'd want that. I'd want for you to be normal," he whispers.

[magician_king]

"Not normal- exactly, because I'm so weird, and I've never cared about that. But if you thought you had a chance to make me happy, and make my life easier."

[credere]

"I'd want you to be happy," Credence says, and even he can tell where Quentin is leading him. "I just...how can you know that - that this is what'll make me happy...?"

[magician_king]

"I might be wrong. I really might be. But I don't believe that I am- maybe the teaching magic, sure, yes, that- but not practicing enough to break up the bottleneck inside you."

[credere]

"Oh."

He wraps his arms around his knees. Quentin wants him to learn. Elizabeth wants that for him too. Tina seemed to.

And he's already damned.

So what does it matter?

"...alright."

[magician_king]

"Okay. This buys you ten decisions you get to make on my behalf to help me for the better, and I don't get to argue."

He says, smiling.

[credere]

Credence visibly startles, his shoulders drawing up.

"I don't want to do that."

He finds it nigh-on impossible to make decisions for himself, never mind anyone else.

[magician_king]

"Then you don't have to use them. But if you say a codeword- 'broken windows' then I'll know."

He promises.

[credere]

"...alright. But I don't think I ever will."

Fair warning.

[magician_king]

"That's fine. It's nice to have someone looking out for me, anyways."

Is how he interprets it.