After arriving a minute late to the cafeteria, Lucas and Eren were met with a rather unhappy Professor Marris, who immediately reproached them for failing to arrive on time.
“Where were you two? You had thirty minutes to wash up!”
“We were discussing politics, ma’am,” Eren replied dismissively.
“I see how it is. The food is on that table over there. Go take as much as you want.”
The professor allowed the two students to pass. Lucas's eyes were filled with the sight of a room at least a hundred meters long with four rows of wooden tables. Three were occupied by students, and the fourth by mountains upon mountains of food.
The left wall of the room was inset with five massive windows, each approximately seventeen meters long and soaring thirty meters tall to the roof’s curve into seven different Gothic vaults. The windows gave full view of the western side of the school — the snow-capped mountains; the wispy clouds that drifted in, replacing the cumulus clouds of the morning; the green field that stretched until it was swallowed up by the gray of the mountains.
Between the vaults were high points that protruded into the next floor by perhaps another five meters. The points aligned with the tapering tips of each of the windows. Engraved into each of the vaults were what looked like meaningless grooves that just added some texture, but on closer inspection, Lucas noticed that they were inscriptions indiscernible due to their sheer height.
From each of the tips of the ceiling blossomed elaborately decorated chandeliers, perhaps dangling two hundred tear-shaped crystals apiece. The facets scattered star-shaped pieces of light all around the cafeteria. The jewels danced in synchrony with the steps of the students below it, sending the light all across the long hall.
Lucas immediately walked to the table of food, grabbed one of the white plates from the pile sitting at the edge of the counter, and began reading the names of the various types of food, many of which he had never heard of before.
“You should try this one,” Eren said, pointing at the small name card of a bowl full of writhing who-knows-whats that sent chills down Lucas's spine every time a loud crackling sound erupted from it.
“I’m not eating that,” Lucas vehemently snapped. “What does that say? ‘Fried live maggots.’ You nobles have terrible taste. I hope you know that. And how are they live if they’re fried?”
“I dunno, but here, try some.” Eren grabbed the spoon in the bowl and immediately made to shovel the maggots onto Lucas's plate. Lucas stepped back three paces, unable to turn his eyes away from the unappetizing, squirming mass. Spotting his pale complexion, Eren put the spoon back into the bowl and grinned, “It was just a joke. No need to get so worked up about it. Even I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“I’d hoped you hadn’t,” Lucas replied, recovering quickly. “Let’s move on to more edible things.”
Lucas quickly filled his plate with various expensive, normally untouchable things for a commoner, such as garlic butter lobster, stuffed crab shells, and sugar-glazed tarts.
“Not very frugal, now are you?” Eren said after he finished collecting his lunchtime assortment. He grabbed two of every utensil from the food table and led Lucas to a vacant space next to Vaelith on the middle row of tables.
“On the contrary, I would say that this is incredibly frugal of me. I’m taking advantage of the chance that pops up when these are all free.”
Vaelith looked over at Eren’s plate, which was full of a variety of white chocolate delicacies. “You can certainly be talking. How do you not get fat after eating so much of this?”
“Hey, I’m no different from Lucas. I’m just taking the opportunity to eat something that I normally don’t get to. My parents think sugary things are the direct offspring of the demons.”
The chatter of the cafeteria continued buzzing around him as Lucas finished his second helping. He stood, gathering his plate and utensils, and began searching for a place to wash them.
“What’re you looking for?” Eren asked, having just returned from one of the restrooms in the hallway. He had finished a long time before Lucas did, unable to handle the sugariness of the pastries.
“Somewhere to wash my plate,” Lucas said.
Eren snorted. “Oh, come on. You don’t need to wash your plate here. Just leave it on the table. This school has plenty of staff to do that grunt work for you.”
“Really?”
“Do you see anyone else stupidly looking for places to clean their dishes? Look at how many dirty plates are being left on the table. And can you see anywhere to wash them?”
“Well,” Lucas said. “Well, I just thought everyone was being lazy.”
“Here’s a concept that you have to understand, Lucas. If everyone else is being lazy, that means that you’re entitled to being lazy, too.”
“Alright, alright,” Lucas replied, setting his cutlery on the nearest table he could find. “Where are we supposed to go now?”
“We’re supposed to head to our homeroom so that we can do our knowledge testing,” Vaelith joined in.
“Which room was that again?” Lucas asked.
“It’s the same as our Worldly Studies room. Let’s see…” Eren retrieved his schedule from a pocket in his elaborate clothing. “It should be Room 033.”
“How did that fit into your pocket?” exclaimed Lucas, incredulous.
“My pockets run deep, what can I say?”
“Deep pockets, I see,” Vaelith said, eyeing the elaborate, winding golden strips on Eren’s vest.
“Aw, are you finally acknowledging my greatness?” Eren jabbed.
“What, is being lucky enough to be born into a noble family considered greatness?” retorted Vaelith.
“Oh. I thought you would say yes,” said a crestfallen Eren, clearly disheartened for another reason.
“Look, if you expect us to like you, maybe you shouldn’t always go applauding yourself because of your family’s wealth.”
“Alright, well. Let’s get going,” Lucas put in, breaking the silence that had formed. He pulled out his card and searched for Room 033. He set off in the direction pointed by the arrow on the card. The other two quickly hurried to join him.
After three minutes of walking and climbing two flights of stairs in silence, Eren finally spoke to Lucas as they arrived at the classroom. “You were supposed to break the silence, Lucas.”
“What? Why me? You’re the one who antagonized the both of us. And besides, I did try to break the silence.”
“Oh, right. I forgot that you’re not from a noble family either.”
“Are you blind?” Vaelith exclaimed. “At least he’s wearing a normal tunic. It should be quite obvious that he’s a commoner like me.”
“Speaking of clothes, why do you always wear things that one would think your family wouldn’t really be able to afford? I remember you also wore plainer clothes during the entrance ceremony.”
“My parents have connections, despite being commoners,” snapped Vaelith.
“Jeez, no need to be so explosive. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“My parents told me that I should try to blend in at least a little bit. But the reason why I wore my normal clothes during the ceremony was that I forgot to change before getting onto the carriage and I didn’t want to change when there was someone driving it two meters away.”
“There was a wall between you two, though,” Lucas pointed out.
“And what does that change?”
“I’d think quite a bit, actually,” Eren said.
Any retort Vaelith might have had was lost as Professor Hawke emerged from the classroom door. The students had all arrived, clogging up the corridor. Although there was no traffic at this time, the professor seemed to be quite displeased with their behavior.
“Please do not obstruct the hallways. There may be no other students accessing this specific corridor right now, but do get into the habit of properly lining up outside the classroom door.”
“Yes, ma’am!” the students complied, unwilling to defy any more teachers after their encounter with Professor Marris.
After the students had arranged themselves, albeit with a little difficulty, the professor beckoned them into the classroom. It was their homeroom. The desks that held the students’ nameplates each carried a small stack of two or three sheets of paper, upturned so that any content would not be visible. The sheets were accompanied by quills and ink bottles; all of the quills were organized neatly to the right of the papers, perfectly parallel to the long edge of the parchment. The ink bottles stood in the far right corner of each desk.
“Please take a seat,” Professor Hawke said.
The students complied, filling the room with the sound of the woolen carpet rustling against the sliding of the chairs.
“And please do not touch the papers in front of you,” the professor warned as a few students reached for the stacks before them. They quickly retracted their hands and sat up straight, causing a slight rustling from their papers. “I will be proctoring your test on magical artifacts. This test will not impact anything besides some of your files that we will be keeping sealed away until your fourth year, when you will begin apprenticeships.”
“The test seems kind of impactful, then, doesn’t it?” Lucas heard a classmate whisper.
“That’s enough from you, Falcrest,” shot Professor Hawke. “As I was saying, this test will not amount to much. We will only be using your results to provide a list of suitable occupations — nothing more. You will have forty-five minutes to complete this test of ten questions, so please take your time. Now, without further ado, please commence.”
The room was filled with the shuffle of papers being turned over. As Lucas stared at his own testing paper, he began to realize how badly these next three-quarters of an hour would go down for him. As others began clinking their quills into their ink bottles, Lucas had not even begun to fathom the meaning of the first question:
The Leybound Compass was designed to locate leylines and became a cornerstone of early Hycadian expansion. Describe its primary function and explain how its invention altered both trade and military strategy in the following century. In your answer, include the date of its unveiling, in day-month-year format; the name of its inventor; and at least two specific impacts on Hycadian society.
With forty-five minutes to complete ten problems, was he legitimately supposed to answer this question within five minutes? Serwyn Halvek — Lucas at least knew this much; Rebrixi had taught him a little on these topics. Halvek had unveiled it in the year 729, but what was the specific date and how did it impact society? Without an answer, Lucas could only move on to the next question.
The Azlan Lens, first forged in 689 by the artificer Calveth Drosmir, was an artifact designed to magnify leyline currents for observation. Explain its primary function and discuss how its invention influenced both magical research and the regulation of spellcasting in Azla. In your answer, include the date of its forging, the name of its inventor, and at least two specific impacts on Hycadian society.
So all of the questions were like this, huh. Lucas sighed internally and went back to the first problem, inscribing what he knew onto the paper. The quill’s metal tip scratched against the somewhat rough paper, sending a satisfying sound that mixed with the scrawling of the papers all around him.
After a while of writing, Lucas finally lost himself in the answering. Everything faded into the background — everything besides the parchment and his knowledge of magical artifacts. The unwavering scribbling was integrated into his ears, like they were something he had heard since he was born and no longer paid any heed to.
Just as he approached the final question, Professor Hawke called out, “Your time is up. Please place your pens down.”
The clatter of the quills onto the desk sounded all around the room. Lucas had just caught the acrid yet earthy scent of the ink permeating across the area, now that his concentration had been broken. Lucas was slightly disappointed that he could not complete the test and was somewhat anxious. Would there be a punishment for failing to finish the test?
The professor brandished her hand, causing all of the papers to simultaneously float over to the lectern. A few papers rattled as if they were met with high wind, although the majority were kept as still as one would expect a sheet of metal to be. Lucas looked around at the floating papers and noticed that quite a few of the students hadn’t made it as far as he had. As the final test landed into the neat pile on the lectern, Professor Hawke declared, “Now that you have completed your tests, you are free to depart for wherever your heart may desire for the remainder of the day. Remember that curfew is at nine o’clock, so ensure that you are in your dormitories by then.”
The students clamored for the door. As Lucas approached, the professor called, “Lucas Drake, please proceed to Professor Morrix’s office.”
“What? Why?” Eren asked defensively, unaware that Professor Morrix was the one who had picked up Lucas the day before.
“This does not concern you, Eren Solari. Please do not intervene.”
“It’s fine, Eren. It’s the guy who came over to our dormitory yesterday. You know, the one with really shaggy hair.”
“Oh, okay. Well, have fun, I suppose.”
“Thanks,” Lucas replied, setting off for the professor’s office before remembering that he didn’t know what the room number was. He circled back, asking Professor Hawke, “Excuse me? What’s Professor Morrix’s office’s room number?”
“It is G10,” the departing professor replied.
“Alright, thanks!” Lucas, brimming with excitement, quickly began locating the office with his card, running with the arrow. His footsteps echoed against the empty halls. There were five more minutes until the whole school would come alive. He slid down a flight of stairs and sprinted the last stretch of the journey through the stone corridors.
As he arrived at the professor’s office, the door swung open before he had the chance to knock, revealing the same slightly dimmed office from the previous day. The professor was already seated behind his cluttered desk, still sporting the same bedraggled hair and gray scarf. “Please sit,” he said, making a sweeping gesture at the bare, wooden chair that stood on Lucas's side of the desk. As Lucas tried to make himself as comfortable as possible on the hard back and too-regular shape of the chair, Professor Morrix began speaking.
“We will be addressing the results of your awakening earlier today. Now, if I am not wrong, you are from a rural family, right? And thus you have not had much interaction with magic.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you’ll be taking your Spellcasting lessons in private with me. I will aid you in specialized darkness usage and, through many examinations, decide what type of casting you’re suited for; basically what your class is.”
“Why aren’t we just testing to see what my veins look like?”
“Well, you’re a special case. The thing is, from Professor Marris’ observations earlier today, your body does not seem to have defined Azla veins, in contrast to other mages. We are not entirely sure if this is just a feature of the Strange Arcane, because the Azla vein patterns of the previous wielders have not been recorded, even if the previous theory behind their monstrous ability to use darkness was that their magic was rhythmless. This is rather unprecedented, but it could possibly mean that you’ll be able to do things that have never been conceived before; for example, you may be very well suited for every type of casting. Oh! And before I forget, here is your schedule. It should be no different from what the other students have, but for the fact that you take your Spellcasting with me.” The professor retrieved a piece of parchment not unlike the one that Eren had. Lucas unrolled it and noticed that it indeed was the exact same, except under Spellcasting, it wrote “Thalen Morrix, G10” rather than “Endelyn Marris, 001”.
“So, what else will we be doing today?” Lucas asked, looking up from the schedule.
“There’s not much besides just getting you used to your magic. Could you attempt to push your magic out of your palms? Since you have no Azla veins, I suppose you should envision it as extracting a piece of a cloud out of your body.”
Lucas did as he was told, focusing on his palms. He closed his eyes to concentrate. Dragging the Azla out of his body was like scooping mud through a tube. It was not extremely hard, per se, but it was very tedious.
“Good. Now slowly open your eyes. Oh, and by the way, I know you’re trying to concentrate when you’re closing your eyes, and such a method does indeed work. But do not forget that in real-life applications of magic, whether it be combat or everyday chores, you really should keep your eyes open so that you know what you’re doing.”
Lucas's eyes had been open long before the professor had finished speaking. What had formed in his hand was nothing more than black sludge. Crestfallen, he looked at the professor, hoping that his magic wouldn’t just amount to this. Professor Morrix, noticing his disappointment, laid his hand on Lucas's, saying, “Why are you so dismayed? What did you expect darkness to be? Dismay no longer, Lucas. This magic is not useless and nor is it something you should be disappointed over. The fact that you were capable of conjuring this magic upon first command is already extremely impressive. Think about what you could do with a year of practice! I’m sure you’ll be at the level of a sigil mage by the end of your third year here.”
Distracted, Lucas asked, “What’s a sigil mage?”
“Have you not learned about the seven stages of magecraft?” the professor inquired. Lucas shook his head. “Well, the lowest is inner mage, a level that you have already achieved. An inner mage is defined as being capable of extracting and expelling magic from their bodies. The next stage is the external mage, who is capable of manipulating, at a small scale, of course, existing magic in the environment around them. I predict that you’ll reach this stage by the end of this year. Normally, people reach this stage in their twenties. Sacred Heart students usually reach it by the end of their second year. Then is the sigil mage, who is capable of storing magic into Azlan symbols and is capable of stringing multiple of these symbols together to create basic functions, such as triggering an explosion when an individual of a specific innate element draws near. Sigils are the written language of magic, in short.
“The fourth stage is the envoy mage. Envoy mages are named for their ability to defend themselves, as envoys should be able to; they have such an absolute control over their own magic that they can output formless Azla. Formless Azla is invisible to normal people, but can be seen if you’re proficient at magic vision, which is the infusion of Azla into your eyes. It takes on a bit of its element’s quality. For example, formless Azla of the fire element will retain some heat, formless Azla of the water element will retain its quality of being heavy, and if it’s near one’s face, it can slightly suffocate them. The fifth stage is Archmage. They generally have very good control over their magic, even surpassing envoy mages. They are capable of medium- to large-scale environmental manipulation. The only ones in Hycadia at the moment are Professor Marris and the king.
“Now, the last two stages are almost mythical. The second-to-last stage is Nascent Grand Mage. They are considered demigods, and our beloved headmaster is the only one on the continent. That is, if Genesca isn’t hiding a secret weapon. They’re generally capable of medium-scale leyline control; that is, they are capable of sourcing their magic straight from the ground, among other unimaginable things. And, last, but very certainly not least, are the Grand Mages. They are flat-out considered gods. None have existed for the past one thousand years since the last great war in which Virex, Azlan, and Maelion served. They are the pinnacle of magic. Not only do their external control and their leyline control span nearly the entire continent, but their self-control is also paramount. They can create threads that are thinner than your hairs and manipulate them freely, too. Not to mention, their ability to string sigils together allows them to create functions that would be impossible to understand for anyone below the stage of Archmage.”
“Wait, so is there the same kind of thing for the Will users, too?”
“Yes, there is. But that does not pertain to spellcasting and will probably be covered in one of your other lessons in the near future. Now, that’s enough of that. Regarding the magic you just pulled out, I believe we can expand on it further. Now, why don’t you give that sample to me so that I can study it in my free time? In the meantime, would you extend your arm with your palm facing forward like this— yes, perfect. Now, try, let’s see, condensing the floating Azla in your arm. Then envision it being shot out at an extremely high speed.”
Lucas did as he was asked, this time taking note not to close his eyes. He struggled to get a grasp on his Azla, causing the professor to say, “You can close your eyes for this, Lucas.” However, determined to prove that he could do it, Lucas refused to shut his eyes.
He grasped it. Condense the Azla… Like hammering metal…
Once the magic condensed into a desirable thickness, Lucas noticed his whole arm trembling. He held it steady with his left arm and imagined a thin shard of pure darkness being propelled by thousands of charging horses.
Instantly, a sharp crack resonated through the room. Lucas had barely any time to process what had happened before he noticed what lay on the ground before him. A perfect crystal, perhaps no longer and no wider than his index finger, shone in the flickering light.
“Shame it didn’t go that far. I really envisioned sending it shooting straight out of my arm.”
“On the contrary,” the professor corrected between pants, standing now, “that little crystal would have punctured around three of those twelve-inch stone walls before coming to a halt, if it wasn’t for my intervention. You have done exceedingly well at this exercise. What you envisioned would happen to the crystal to have it shot so quickly I would not like to imagine.”
“This is kind of what I expected my magic to look like, you know, rather than the sludge I made earlier.”
“Darkness is the element of shadows. It is considered unnatural for you or anyone to conjure a physical form for it; try imagining a three-dimensional shadow. However, because of that, it has next to no physical limitations. Fire must travel through oxygen. Water cannot support itself. Wind has absolutely no physical form whatsoever. Plants cannot sustain themselves without nutrients. Light can only travel in beams. Among every other element, only earth is quite similar, except that it is more durable but much heavier.
“So don’t think that that sludge is useless, as I mentioned previously. That sludge marks the beginning of your mastery of the most versatile element. However, more than that, it is the building block of much of modern darkness magic usage. Of course, this is coming from someone who is incredibly biased towards darkness.”
The professor bent over to pick up the fragment. “That shard is perhaps more unnatural for one to artificially create than that sludge is. I believe that what you have just made can be considered a magic crystal of sorts. Perhaps weaker than one that you would find naturally, but I don’t believe that I have ever seen anyone artificially create something like this before. On the other hand, you did spend quite a while condensing your Azla, though. We’ll work on that in the future.
“Well, in the meantime, let us proceed with our schedule today. Now that I’ve gotten a grasp on how well you’re capable of handling your magic, why don’t we get started on giving you a good training regimen? It won’t be terribly hard since you’re just starting out, but it’ll be enough for you to progress into becoming a true mage.”
Lucas watched noiselessly as the professor sat down again, shuffling through the many books piled haphazardly on his desk. He chose one that had been left open at a specific page. He quickly scanned the open pages and addressed Lucas, “From tomorrow onwards, unless there is something that I must speak of to you, and until you have moved past these exercises, you will be conjuring an eighth-barrel of that sludge and twenty of those crystals daily.”
“Twenty? Isn’t that a little too much? And how much is an eighth-barrel?”
“One eighth of a wine barrel,” the professor replied, causing a fifty-nine-gallon wine barrel to emerge from the shadows. “On the other hand, no, I do not believe that conjuring twenty of these crystals will be too arduous a daily activity. You will find that it is much easier now to create them now that you have already conjured them the first time.”
“Can I try right now?” Lucas asked, eager to attempt the new thing that he had learned once more.
“I’m afraid that I will have to ask you to refrain from using too much magic in such a short time frame. You may not feel it right now, but sending that shard at such a high speed undoubtedly placed a tremendous strain upon you. You’ll probably feel the shock in half an hour, or less, depending on how sensitive your body is to the sudden exertion of magic. For now, I suggest you take it easy and return to your room. You may also keep this crystal as a keepsake.” Professor Morrix picked up the fragment and handed it to Lucas. “How you use it is up to you. You may show it to your friends but do not reveal that it is a product of your own creation.”
Lucas, eager to show the crystal to Eren, quickly said his goodbyes and returned to his dormitory. Lucas tapped his card onto the black box and heard the door whir. He pushed the door. It didn’t budge. He pushed it again. It didn’t budge. He pushed with all his might. With a crack, the door swung open, throwing Lucas to the floor.
Picking himself up, Lucas was blessed with the sight of innumerable tendrils that whipped across the room, scattering yellow light from its numerous similarly yellow buds. The room resembled a forest, what with the vines and branches that covered the walls with their verdant mass. Eren was at the center of it all, sitting in a meditating position with his eyes closed.
“What are you doing?” Lucas asked.
Eren yelped and a large vine flew across the room, nearly decapitating Lucas. “What did you do that for? I was trying to concentrate!”
“What are you doing? I could barely get into the room!”
“I was just practicing,” Eren replied dismissively. “I thought that it would take a good while until you got back.” With a wave of his hand, all of the vines retracted to a single stick that landed in his lap. As Eren stood up, Lucas quickly remembered why he was so happy.
“Look! I, uh, got this from the professor!” he exclaimed, presenting the shard before Eren, who picked it from his hand as Lucas walked over to his desk to lay down his schedule.
“Isn’t this a magic crystal? It’s kind of small and low-quality, though. It’s probably not that valuable but it does look pretty.”
At once, Lucas's vision blurred. He vaguely felt himself fall forward, the ground a quickly advancing darkness that seemed also to swallow up Eren’s voice.