In a smaller, more confined room within the archives beneath the Rothrosia Magic Academy, towering shelves overflowed with books and ancient scrolls. Dust filled the air, making each breath thick and heavy. Sir Francis paused for a moment, his nose twitching, before letting out a loud sneeze.

“A...CHOOOOO!" The sneeze echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the stone walls and shelves.

With watery eyes, he quickly wiped his nose and muttered, "Ugh, my bad." His voice was muffled from the stuffiness, and he sniffled, trying to shake off the irritation.

Sir William, entirely unbothered by Sir Francis’s sneeze, was down on one knee among a mountain of old books, papers, and various boxes. His face, however, showed signs of frustration. After rifling through another stack, he sighed heavily and stood, placing his hands on his hips.

"This is impossible. There's just too much to sort through," Sir William declared, his voice edged with exhaustion.

Sir Francis peered over his shoulder, taking in the seemingly endless heap of forgotten records. His expression mirrored Sir William’s frustration. "No luck then?" he asked.

Sir William glanced over at him briefly, then returned his gaze to the mess in front of him. "We need guidance. I can't make heads or tails of anything in this... this chaos," he admitted, bending over and picking up a particularly worn piece of parchment from a nearby box. As he straightened up, he held the fragile paper before him. "This one especially—it's written in a language I’m not familiar with," he added, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

Sir Francis stepped closer, leaning over Sir William’s shoulder to get a better look. His brow furrowed, his frown deepening. "What is that? Some sort of code?"

Before Sir William could respond, a soft but clear voice came from behind them. "Uhm… I think it’s better to leave that to us mages."

Both Sir Francis and Sir William turned sharply, eyes landing on Sylvia and Amabel standing in the doorway. Sylvia wore her usual confident smile, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Behind her, Amabel stood more reserved, her hood drawn up, her posture shy as she tried to blend into the shadows behind Sylvia. She gave a small nod, acknowledging her presence.

Sometime later, the cramped archive room had been transformed. Sylvia and Amabel had diligently sorted through several heaps of books, scrolls, and boxes, making enough space for them to move more comfortably. The clutter was still immense, but the two mages had managed to create order in the chaos. Despite the effort, only Sylvia and Amabel remained inside, their movements nimble in the tight space. Sir William and Sir Francis stood just outside the room, watching from the entrance.

Sir Francis leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. Behind him, Sir William stood with a more formal posture, arms behind his back. "Is that the mage mater Frode said could help us with the search?" Sir William asked quietly.

Sir Francis gave a nod, glancing back into the room where Amabel worked silently beside Sylvia. "Yup. Her name’s Amabel, and according to Master Frode, she’s his brightest researcher."

Sir William raised an eyebrow as he looked at the young mage. "She’s rather young... but if Master Frode vouches for her, then I suppose we can place our trust in her." His voice held a hint of skepticism, but not without hope.

"Mhm," Sir Francis grunted in agreement.

Suddenly, Sylvia straightened up, holding a piece of an ancient documents. "Ah! I found it!" she exclaimed, her voice bursting with excitement, causing both men to snap to attention.

Sir Francis quickly stepped into the room, taking a few strides forward. "You found it? Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes filled with anticipation.

Sylvia turned towards him. "I’m sure," she replied confidently. Sir William leaned in from the doorway, his curiosity piqued.

Sylvia held up the worn parchment for them to see. "Look at this writing," she said, her voice bubbling with excitement. "It’s written in the al'Levre language."

Sir Francis furrowed his brow in confusion. "What language?"

With a grin, Sylvia explained, "The al'Levre language is a mixture of Rothrosian and Elven. It was primarily used during the era of the First Lineage, before the Third King of Rothrosia established the current written language."

Sir Francis blinked in surprise. "I never knew that."

"Of course, you didn’t," Sylvia said with a playful smirk. "This language was mostly used in written form, back when the influence of the Elven Kingdom was strong. It likely acted as a mediatory language between the Rothrosian Royal Family and the Elven Royalty."

Sir Francis and Sir William exchanged a look of disbelief. "Interesting," Sir William murmured, his tone betraying his intrigue.

Sylvia continued, holding the document closer to them. "If you examine our magical incantations, especially the symbols, you’ll notice they’re written in al'Levre, though we pronounce them in Rothrosian."

A lightbulb seemed to go off in Sir Francis’s head. He clapped his hands together. "Ah! Now I get it. I always thought those symbols in the incantations were just random magic scribbles."

Sylvia raised an eyebrow, clearly annoyed. "They’re not random. They have meaning," she retorted, her tone sharp with irritation.

Sir Francis just wear a hopeless smile acknowledge her annoyance while Sir William suppressed a chuckle, offering a knowing smile.

Behind them Amabel struggling slightly but determined, carried a stack of books—some small, some large—and placed them in front of a wooden table in the cramped archive room. "Senior," she called out softly, her voice just loud enough to catch Sylvia’s attention.

Sylvia turned her gaze from the documents she had been holding, and Amabel continued, "I’ve found several books and documents that reference the First Lineage."

"Right, let’s get to work," Sylvia responded, her tone firm with focus. Both mages now stood in front of the table, eagerly sorting through the assortment of historical books and scrolls. Their quick hands rifled through the pages, eyes scanning for any relevant information.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Now Outside the room, Sir Francis and Sir William exchanged a glance. The cluttered room had become far too cramped for the two of them, and it was clear they were not suited for this particular task. "What now?" Sir Francis asked, scratching the back of his neck. "Seems like they’ve got this covered. To be honest, reading books isn’t exactly my strength."

Sir William glanced back at the two mages, then turned to Sir Francis with a knowing smile. "Same here. Let’s leave this part to them." He then pulled something out from behind his back—a scroll of paper. "Meanwhile..." he trailed off, his tone carrying a hint of excitement.

Sir Francis tilted his head in curiosity as Sir William unravelled the scroll. A short time later, the two of them sat at a small table away from the cramped archive room. Sir William spread out what appeared to be an old map, weathered and faded from time. He pointed to a specific spot on the parchment.

"This is an old map dating back to the Second Lineage," Sir William explained, his finger tracing a path. "And look here."

Sir Francis leaned in, squinting as he followed where Sir William was pointing. His eyes widened slightly. "Is that...?"

Sir William nodded eagerly. "It’s the location of one of the magic crystal mines. This one, in particular, is near the Magic Academy. And if this written text is accurate, it’s one of the mines that once contained a Mother Crystal."

Sir Francis eye widen and said. "Are you sure?"

Sir William tapped the map confidently. "Look at the symbols etched here." He pointed to a distinct emblem near the mine's location. "It's the Mother Crystal’s insignia," he continued.

Sir Francis asked, "How do you know about it?"

Sir William smiled sheepishly and replied, "The headmistress told me."

Sir Francis raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. He straightened up and said, "Let's check it out."

Sir William grinned, clearly pleased with Sir Francis’s decision. "Glad you said that. I’d much rather be exploring the mine than sitting around here reading documents all day."

The two knights exchanged a mutual look of understanding, both relieved at the prospect of action. They stood up, ready to leave the stuffy archive room, eager to stretch their legs and investigate the old mine.

……

The day was approaching noon, and the academy grounds were quiet. A few servants moved about, carrying out their daily chores. Down in the archive, however, things were far from peaceful

Sylvia let out a frustrated groan. "Argh... I’ve only been able to translate a few lines," she complained.

In front of her was a cluttered wooden table, piles of books surrounding her notes and half-translated scrolls. She leaned back in her chair, her arms dropping dramatically as she pouted, clearly irritated by the slow progress. Amabel, sitting beside her, smiled softly, watching Sylvia's frustration with quiet amusement. Despite the clutter and the difficulty of the task, Amabel seemed unbothered, her calm demeanor contrasting Sylvia's visible annoyance.

Straightening her posture, Sylvia leaned over toward Amabel, her curiosity piqued. "How about you, Amabel? Have you been able to decipher any of these documents yet?" To her surprise—and slight dismay—Amabel had managed to decode several writings from at least five books and had even completely translated an entire scroll.

Sylvia’s eyes widened as she realized just how far ahead Amabel was. Her expression turned slightly sour, an annoyed and envious look crossing her face. "You...you really are Master Frode's brightest researcher..." she muttered under her breath, the words tinged with a mix of admiration and self-deprecation.

Hunched over in defeat, Sylvia pouted to herself, silently berating her own shortcomings.

Amabel, ever the modest one, just murmured an awkward "Eh..." not wanting to make her senior feel worse. She fidgeted in her seat but said nothing more.

Sylvia, unable to let the situation slide, sighed dramatically. "Ah... I really wish I’d taken those language classes more seriously back then," she lamented, her voice dripping with regret.

But then, as if struck by a sudden thought, Amabel brightened and said, "Oh...I think I brought a language book with me from the research facility."

Sylvia's eyes lit up immediately, her frustration melting away as excitement took over. "You did?!" she asked eagerly, her entire mood lifting at the prospect of an easier way to tackle the translations.

Somewhere inside the academy in a modest study room, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment. Wooden shelves lined one side of the wall, overflowing with books. In front of a small arched window sat Aki, diligently immersed in his reading. Several books were stacked beside him, and scattered notes lay across the table. His face, illuminated by the soft light filtering through the window, reflected the intense focus and excitement coursing through him.

"Incredible," he muttered under his breath, barely able to contain his amazement. "I can really read and understand all of this!" His eyes gleamed, filled with the enthusiasm of discovery. The night before, Aki had been visited once again by the Goddess Athia in the endless void. She had revealed the reason behind Aki ability to understand and speak the world's language seamlessly. As the direct essence of Aluhiem, Athia explained, Aki possessed a unique connection to this world. When he spoke, people around him would hear their own language, while to Aki, it would always sound like his native tongue. The revelation had answered one of the many questions that had puzzled him since his arrival—how everyone, regardless of their background, seemed to speak in his language.

Now, back in the quiet study, Aki sat in front of a stack of books, entrusted to him by the headmistress. They were filled with knowledge about magic and the deep history of Rothrosia, a world still foreign yet fascinating to him. As he eagerly devoured the information, a soft knock came from the door behind him.

"Young master, your food is almost ready. If you may, please head to the dining hall. Your meal is waiting there," the familiar voice of his maid called from the other side of the door.

Aki glanced up briefly, replying, "Ah...yes, I'll be right there. I just need a moment to finish this book."

"Very well, the dining hall is in the right wing of the academy," she informed him, her voice polite and steady before excusing herself.

Aki turned back to the book, the words flowing effortlessly as if they were meant for him alone.

A moment later…

It was high noon as Aki strolled along a passageway, sunlight streaming through rows of large arched windows beside him. The view outside was nothing short of breathtaking—a sprawling green field stretching out like a sea of lush grass, with a distant mountain range resembling the picturesque landscapes of Switzerland. Aki paused for a moment, savoring the tranquility and beauty of it all, before continuing his leisurely walk toward the dining hall. In his right hand, he held a small book, planning to read it while enjoying his meal.

As he approached the end of the corridor, where the path split into two—one leading to the dormitory and the other to the dining hall—he noticed that the left passage was blocked by wall. The right side, however, led through an open archway toward the dining hall. Just as he reached the corner, a sudden thud echoed through the passageway, and Aki was knocked off balance by a small, petite figure slamming into him. Both of them tumbled to the ground, Aki landing on his backside while the figure, hunched over in front of him, struggled to regain their footing. Scattered books lay between them, as if they had exploded from the figure's arms upon impact.

Before Aki could even process what had happened, the figure—a young woman—was already kneeling, bowing slightly as she hurriedly apologized. "I'm... so sorry. I was in a hurry, and... I didn't see you there," she stammered, her voice soft and embarrassed. Aki blinked, still sitting on the ground, trying to gather himself.

The girl, dressed in a pristine white robe, was none other than Amabel. She had been rushing, carrying several books, likely on her way to the archives. Flustered, she quickly dusted herself off and began gathering the scattered books. Aki stood up, shaking off the surprise. "It's ok, I'm not hurt. I'm fine," he reassured her, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears as Amabel busied herself with picking up her things.

Amabel’s hood had fallen down from the collision, revealing her golden-yellow hair, cut short just above her neckline. Her fair skin was dusted with faint reddish freckles across her nose and cheeks. Realizing her hood was down, Amabel quickly pulled it back up, bowing once more as she muttered another apology. Without waiting for a response, she rushed off, disappearing through a large door behind Aki.

For a moment, Aki simply stood there, slightly dazed, watching her figure disappear. He shook his head, a bemused smile creeping onto his face as he bent down to pick up his own book. Without further delay, he continued his walk toward the dining hall, the brief encounter lingering in his thoughts.