"So, did you manage to sprout ultia?" Master Nimikel asked, smiling, as the class began.

A discordant murmur of voices was the reply. Tim was silent - he had nothing to brag about. He got busy with his seeds only the night before, and they didn't germinate as well as they were supposed to.

"I see some people are eager to show off their skills. Well, let's see who has been successful."

She didn't summon everyone, though - only those who wanted to demonstrate their achievements. Of course, the elves were out of competition, and each of them earned points - the more the faster the shoots sprouted.

"Very good. Today I'll also give you some patiis seeds. They are much harder to germinate, and your spell must have enough power to do so. But first, I will teach you another spell to help a plant in distress. For example, if it has been damaged, or if it is not receiving enough nourishment and is slowly beginning to wither away. Here's the formula: 'fisaki zunn simier'. As you can easily see, it has a lot in common with the one you used for germination. And that's no coincidence because in both cases you have to activate the vitality of the plant."

Immediately Iwiel's hand went up:

"Master, I know a place where this spell can be put into practice!"

So that's what she meant when she claimed to know how to proceed!

"Is that so?"

"Tim and I found a whole clearing of withered grass in the woods yesterday!"

"Strangely, it has been raining regularly the last few days, the plants must not have suffered from the drought..."

"Someone there had been experimenting with magic, and a very stinky one at that! And now the plants are dying!"

It was, in Tim's opinion, too emotional, but the desired effect was achieved. The teacher was clearly interested in what he had heard.

"In that case, I suggest we continue our lesson after the therapeutic procedures. You'll see at the same time how Natural Regeneration works."

And, cheerfully chattering on the move, - who wouldn't be happy when something happened to interrupt the lesson? - they went off to save the local flora. Iwiel volunteered to show the way, and Tim didn't mind, not sure if he could spot the right direction without a hitch. Still, it would be a good idea to put up signs in the forest. How else would he explain to his pals where the right place is? Elves, of course, do not need it - they were trained since childhood to navigate in the woods, so they are not afraid of any thickets. But not everyone here is a pointy-eared person!

Since yesterday there had been a change in the clearing: the dead grass now carpeted the ground, and fresh growth was beginning to emerge around the edges: life was slowly taking its course. The trunk with the inflorescence that frightened Tim had withered away and broken under its own weight.

"A very sad sight indeed," Master Nimikel agreed. "Please be careful when experimenting with magic, choose places where it cannot harm living organisms. And I will try to revive the plants, though they are already on the brink of death. Here, see how the appropriate spell works."

The emerald-green mist descended on the clearing, and as it dissipated, the grass, which had suffered less, indeed began to revive. But the stalks closer to the 'epicenter' (which the sunflower was) remained dry.

"May we know who did it?" Iwiel asked, biting her lip.

"And if it turns out to be one of your classmates, what will you do?" the teacher answered ironically. "Well, I'll show you how a search spell works."

Another wave of the wand, but this time a sort of ball of wool was formed in front of them. At the silent command, the ball rolled back and forth a few times, scanning the clearing. Its color changed from gray to dark blue, and then to purple. And then it froze in place next to the "sunflower" and turned gray again.

"And then what?" Fingor got impatient this time. "There's no one here who used fading magic?"

"How do you know it was fading that was used?" Kakh'I'Geg caught him on the word.

"Because it's your favorite spell!"

"And you think all drowes test it on the first plant they come across. We don't have any greenery around! It's a lot easier for you, light elves. You go out to the countryside, sit on the grass..."

"Hey, now you'll get it!"

They're not likely to start a fight or a duel of magic in the presence of their teacher. Nonetheless, Master Nimikel decided not to stay away.

"Actually the class isn't over yet, so please put aside your differences. You can discuss them after class, there will be plenty of time for that. Let me just point out that you are both right and wrong at the same time."

"How is that?" Both sides of the conflict were surprised.

"Very simple. Indeed, there is an Exhaustion spell in the Black Magic section, and there are many drowes love it. But, like any curse, it could not be cast on a plant, only on a sentient being (Taeron, standing behind Kakh'I'Geg, pointed a finger at her, causing a chuckling in the audience; the drow turned, but not quickly enough, so she could only give the mockers a look of displeasure). There was another spell used here...," she paused for a moment, as if hesitating whether to continue, "most likely, Withering, pertaining to Dark Druidism. Unlike Natural Healing, which we would study some time later, Withering deprives plants of almost all their vital powers, and they die as a result. Anyone could have used it, and not necessarily a drow. A light elf-renegade, for instance. And, sadly, there are those of other races, too, who like to mock nature. I hope none of you have Withering as an innate gift, do you?"

A united 'No!' was the answer.

"Forgive me, Master, but can't the magic of an innate gift be detected by a search spell?" Patpako said profoundly, pointing to the ball still located at the center of the clearing.

"Why, it can, of course. Just like any other magic. But you don't need to cast it directly. You know about enchanted things?"

"Yes," Germeht answered with a challenge.

"Do you know the point of their creation?"

"Of course. This or that object is charged with magic which can be used even by those who have not a drop of mana. Enchantment is a wizard's chief source of income. It's elementary, Master!"

"And we start with the basics. After all, what's obvious to one may be a revelation to another (as it is to me, Tim thought - in computer games weapons and armor with magical properties can be found everywhere, but try to find them in real life!) A little later, as a training exercise, any person wishing will be given special paper, and you'll learn how to create magical scrolls."

"And how to determine if this or that magic belongs to light or dark druidism?" Shin'Ye'Het asked, smiling slyly.

"Oh, that's easy. You can see the difference between light and darkness, black and white, good and bad, can't you? Druidism, from its very beginning, was about being one with nature. Its darker side, by contrast, lies in the distortion of its essence. For example, one of the favorite activities of dark druids is the creation of chimeras - monsters that combine parts of the bodies of different creatures."

When asked to show them some funny monster, Master Nimikel flatly refused.

"That is out of the question. Even if dark druidism were part of the school curriculum, I would not teach it to you. Of course, when your training is over you will be free to choose your own path, but I advise you to think twice before you take up its mysteries."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

What followed was a cautionary tale about a dark druid named Rabbz, who liked to amuse himself by constructing various freaks. Once he decided to create a monster like never before seen: with dragon's wings, elephant-like armored carcass, several pairs of paws armed with sharp claws, and in addition three-headed, supposing that with such 'pet' nobody would dare stand in his way. However, the unexpected happened: the resulting nightmare attacked its creator in a rage, - even the security spells didn't help! - trampled him, devoured him, and then died.

Smiles appeared on the faces of the pupils.

"The monster must have been pretty hungry."

"And the wizard had time to soak up his own venom."

"The moral is: don't eat everything you can get your hands on!"

Master Nimikel shook her head reproachfully.

"It seems funny from the outside, but it's sad, really. Rabbs was once one of the most talented graduates of the Miallay school of Green magic, and he'd made great progress in taming the sea creatures. Who or what made him turn to the dark side of druidism is unknown. Rabbs himself preferred not to speak about it. And now you know how it all ended. I hope that at least some of you will take it seriously."

Tim was not particularly impressed by what he had heard - a lot of books and movies have an episode with 'going to the dark side', and the reasons could be anything. Someone was greedy for money, someone was pathologically unlucky in life, and as a result he became embittered in the whole world, others were vicious from the beginning, just hiding their essence for the time being. Judging by the remarks, his classmates were not too worried about the hapless druid's fate, as a matter of principle - if you can't do it, don't do it, and if you do it, blame yourself. Taeron, most likely in jest, suggested finding the formula for creating monsters in textbooks and practicing it on the sly. Master Nimikel smiled wryly upon hearing this, but did not moralize, merely asked to let her know if any more patches of withered grass appeared, and then handed out the seeds.

That was the end of the lesson, and Tim hurried back to the school building, not without regret declining the invitation to go a few rounds of feyo. And all because of Ri-Bo who had dropped in on him the night before wishing to copy Tim's notes into his grimoire. He clutched the stylus in his fist and began painstakingly to copy the letters. It wasn't working very well, and Tim finally realized the reason why.

"You don't know how to write!"

The tilfing nodded grimly.

"There aren't many of us who can write. They say that before the ansimars came, there were many who could write, and even some who kept records. The anzimars for some reason were careful to destroy them wherever they could get them. And now chroniclers can be found only in the deaflands, where even a tilfing can't easily reach."

"What's the problem? Let me teach you!"

Ri-Bo, without thinking much, accepted the offer.

"Come on! Then Aerg will no longer pick on me why I'm idle in class. But wait, my countrywomen can't write either! It would not be good if I learn and they do not."

"Would they want to?"

"Don't worry, I'll persuade them. But it is unlikely they will persist - because it's in their interests, too!"

In the end, they decided to meet in the classroom after Green Magic class - it was unlikely that anyone else would be there at that time. Why there? It's simple: their rooms are too small to accommodate four people comfortably. Besides, there's a blackboard in the classroom, and that's the first time he's ever been there as a teacher! Too bad he doesn't have a pointer, and he hasn't yet learned how to draw letters with the wand.

Before their meeting, Ri-Bo reported that Za-Zu and Zhu-Fi were enthusiastic about the prospect of mastering literacy and would definitely come. So Tim didn't even bother to run up to his room and went straight up to the second tier. And as a result, he was the first one in the classroom. The tilfings arrived three minutes later.

"Come in, take your seats close to the board," Tim said in a mentor-like tone, playing the role of a teacher. "I'm not Aerg, there's no point in hiding from me behind the desks."

"We weren't going to," Za-Zu said cheerfully, bouncing down the stairs.

"Does everyone know what we're here for?"

"Yeah," Ri-Bo said firmly.

"Who wants to be a whipping boy in a Light Magic class?" Zhu-Fi added derisively.

But as soon as they were seated at their desks, Rumara peeked in the classroom.

"Is teaching writing only for tilfings?" she inquired without any preamble.

"No, why not," said Tim, bewildered.

"Then we'd like that, too. Hey, where you are, come in!"

Gmuruk, Urgrot, and Shugiz came into view one by one, but they weren't eager to learn how to use the stylus.

"Why, Alkitmi promised to fill in all our grimoires properly," Shugiz protested sluggishly.

"It will come in handy in life. If you master magic, you can become a shaman. And if you're also literate, you might even become the Supreme Shaman!"

"Exactly! I'll be the Supreme one, and you'll be my assistant!'' In a burst of inspiration Shugiz slammed his palm on Urgrot's shoulder.

"Maybe you'll be my assistant!" the latter protested angrily.

"Later you will decide which of you is more important, but now sit and listen carefully! Otherwise you won't learn anything here, everyone will laugh at you! Or you'll be kicked out of school and go home with shame!"

"All right, all right, don't make a fuss, we've got it all!"

But Gmuruk continued to persevere.

"My father and grandfather were great warriors; not knowing a single letter, they went hunting a zugur alone! And I will become so, and without any writing! I don't need it, it's just a headache, that's all!"

"Maybe you will, but others will think for you. What you have found to brag about, ignorance!"

"If you've got a big grakk, it doesn't matter if you can write or not!"

Tim had heard the word before, and had a rough idea of its meaning - something between honor, respect, and rank. An orc with a large grakk is a welcome guest in any house, in a tavern he is always invited to a company, and he doesn't even have to pay for a drink. The higher the grakk, the bigger your share of the loot, and the easier it is to become chieftain if you happen to want to. But it's not so simple: you should not do anything unworthy of a true orc, or just shameful - it's zrazd, in meaning the exact opposite of grakk. If you stabbed a man in the back, called for a fight with a person known to be weaker, gave your word, but didn't keep it, you'll get zrazd and the corresponding attitude of other people around. No one will want to be friends with you, and if you made something really awful, you'll be kicked out of your clan. Of course, you can fix it by committing heroic deeds such as killing a bunch of enemies or some terrible monster. You can't pay it off with money, you have to earn the reputation all over again. In general, everything is very complicated, and probably only orcs themselves are able to figure out what kind of grakk each of them has.

"And what argument do you consider respectable enough for yourself?" Rumara asked sarcastically.

"Which one?" Gmuruk scratched his head, puzzled." Oh, I see! If I can't beat you at izug, you win and I'll study, then!"

Tim also had time to learn what izug was. It's essentially the same as arm wrestling - two people sit opposite each other and with clenched hands try to bring the opponent's arm to the side.

"No problem," Rumara grinned, rolling up the right sleeve of her uniform. Tim whistled involuntarily - he didn't suppose a girl can have a bicep that any guy would envy. On Earth, in her weight class, she could have easily become a bodybuilding champion. Gmuruk seemed to appreciate that, too, but to back down in front of his mockingly smiling buddies was to lose face. After a minute and a half, they agreed to a draw - no one could gain a decisive advantage. Tim, however, had the suspicion that Rumara had simply not pressed Gmuruk enough allowing him to exit the match with honor. He seemed to understand it, too, as he plopped down willingly at his desk and opened his grimoire.

A little later it turned out where Rumara got her leadership skills and muscular physique. As it turned out, her father was a clan leader and, like any ruler, dreamed of having a son to pass on the 'reins' after a certain number of years. And it turned out to be a daughter, and the only one. There was nothing left to do but to bring her up in accordance with his ideas of the ideal 'heir to the throne', forcing her to develop strength and courage. As a result, from an early age Rumara was dashing around with the boys, and could stand alone against two in a fight, which gave her great prestige among her peers. And along with it the skills of the leader - she was regularly chosen as a captain of a team in the yard games.

"Are you ready?" Tim asked rhetorically, when everybody calmed down and got ready to listen. "Then I'll start by showing you how to hold the stylus correctly. At first it will be difficult, but you will get used to it and then it will become automatic. Now, let's start with the letters. Now, look, this is the letter 'A', the first letter in the alphabet. Then you have a 'B', followed by a 'C'...

He carefully traced each letter on the blackboard and then waited patiently for it to be redrawn in the grimoires. So things moved slowly; by the time the alphabet was finished and it came to writing the simplest two- and three-letter syllables, everyone got a little tired. Seeing this, Tim suggested a break. But since people's enthusiasm had waned after two classes in a row, they voted unanimously to continue tomorrow. Tim didn't mind a little rest either, so he didn't object, and at the end he wrote at the blackboard the names of the people sitting at the desks, by asking everyone to write his own name on the title page of his grimoire.

"Hey!" Shugiz was glad. "Now everyone will know that this grimoire belongs to me. And no one would think of stealing it!"

"And ours too!" his buddies cheered on.

Tim could hardly keep a serious expression on his face - he'd like to see who would need the grimoires of orcs. Of course, he didn't say anything out loud.

Together they left the classroom.

"I want to see what's in that museum when it finally opens!" Zhu-Fi pouted capriciously.

"Probably magical artifacts of great power," Ri-Bo teased her.

Shugiz walked up to the wall blocking the tunnel leading to the museum and felt it.

"Not badly built. But if you want I could make a few holes in it!"

"How?"

"His gift is a Fragile Stone," Urgrot explained. "And I have Soft Metal. I used to make fun of it at home by knotting a horseshoe. Everyone thought I was so cool, but I just used my gift in a small way!"

"And when it found out, you got punched in the face," Rumara added wryly.

"Yeah. But I didn't do it out of spite!"

"The bricks could be enchanted, and then the attempt to forcibly penetrate is doomed to fail in advance," Tim said thoughtfully.

"Do you hear what the clever human says? Do not even try to pick at the wall!"

That applied to Rumara's countrymen first, but the tilfings agreed with it, too.

"I wish they'd tear it down soon," Za-Zu snorted.

"We'll ask one of the teachers when we'll be allowed to see the local sights."