Harlan left once the lecture was done, not seeing much point in arguing further.
He had one more class he wanted to visit before lunch, magical creatures.
More people bumped into him and he nearly knocked a few people over as he rushed to stop them from bumping into the girl, he really needed to ask her name.
As he entered the class room it was just ending and a piece of cloth was being placed over a cage on the desk.
The man giving the lecture was old, by far the oldest people Harlan had ever met, he looked closer to embalmed remains than a person. He didn’t sit down in a chair or stand, instead he floated off the ground and spoke with sound magic, not wanting to waste energy speaking.
Harlan approached him to ask some questions.
“Ah, you are the Fomorian boy, aren’t you? I’ve heard you will be in a few of my classes. I must ask, would you be opposed to me running some tests? Skin and hair samples, blood and urine, a marked journal of food intake and bowel movements perhaps?”
Harlan felt the old man had nothing but pure intentions, but they were very bizarre requests.
“Blood, hair, and skin are fine I guess. The others, I would rather not do.”
“Very well. Oh, and where are my manners? I am Sepul, The Dust Archmage.”
“No problem, should we set a time for you to get them?”
“Already done.”
Sepul’s robe opened to show 3 vials already filled.
“I am quite quick handed. Tricks come with age. Now, your questions?”
“What is an archmage, and how many teachers here are archmages?”
“Firstly, there is more than one kind of archmage, but I will keep things simple, the ones that matter are those like myself who have contributed to the magical community in such a way that the academy recognizes them as an archmage, generally this is related with sharing knowledge that greatly expands or even invents a class of magic. Secondly, very few classes have archmages for teachers, though many of them live within the learning zone and teach so they can be paid in research materials that are quite rare. Lastly, class is starting soon, please make your way to your seat.”
Harlan bowed and the girl mimicked him, he could feel that Sepul didn’t like the girl and he didn’t know if there was a reason or just because of where she was from.
Shortly after everyone was seated a clap rang out, partly a joke by the old man, since he didn’t even move his hands at all.
“I hope everyone has good eyesight and an open mind. Today I will be showing you a Dragon, the fiercest of all beasts, master of all realms.”
He removed the cloth from atop a cage to show a lizard, 2 feet long with small vestigial wings and a tan color.
“More accurately, what has become of them. This is a Sand Drake. The Drake name denotes it as a species of flightless 4 legged Dragonoid. The term Dragonoid on the other hand, denotes it as descending from Dragons, or simply being Dragon-like, the exact meaning depends on who is asked. Now, before I continue, can anyone tell me why I called this a Dragon?”
There were murmurs but no one knew. While many people knew of the term Dragon it was considered more a beast of legend or a term for a great calamity. Very few people would even joke about Dragons, common lore saying they could hear if their name was called.
“I did not expect any answers. Though I do wish someone at least had the heart to try. I call it a Dragon because I am one who believes the theory of Dragon degradation. Which states that for whatever reason, Dragons were split into a multitude of species, each holding some traits, with true Dragons not existing anymore. I have been around for a very very long time. I have personally seen and dissected these creatures. From the lowly dirt Drakes which are almost more soil than flesh, to the great Drakes and Wyverns, most commonly misreported as being Dragons. Though one is missing flight, while the other is missing another set of legs. We aren’t entirely sure how we know that a Dragon should have these features, but I believe something happened in the past which set the fear of such a beast into the very souls of all who saw it. Leaving a mental imprint across entire species. If I had more time I would get into what ghosts are, but back on topic. The evidence of the relation between Dragons and the various subspecies, called Dragonoids, is the vestigial traits that each of them has. No other animals have such things, as the gods, according to what is known, created each creature as it is, without such pointless additions. Here you can see the wings of the Sand Drake are small and clearly incapable of supporting its bulky body. Where as here…”
A light construct of a small Wyvern appeared on the students desks. Many flinched back, others tried to smash it, finding it wasn’t hardlight and it simply reformed itself.
“A Wyvern has two nubs, barely visible on its chest. And if you look very closely…”
The light construct zoomed in to show more detail. Beyond learning about magical creatures Harlan was fascinated by these light constructs, everything he was doing should be straining the old man’s mana, but he seemed completely fine.
“There are clawed fingers on these nubs. A remnant of what were, most likely at least, once front legs. Now begins the question and answer segment of the lecture. So please, participate if you feel a fire in your chest to learn more of the incredible beasts which roam our world.”
A girl seated in the back raised her hand.
“Why did you show us a Sand Drake here but then used a construct to show a Wyvern? Why not bring both a Drake and a Wyvern here?”
“That is a good, and very ignorant question to ask. Now, I do not mean it as an insult, you are not a fool, everyone is ignorant on some things. But the reason why is simple. Wyverns are very proud and violent beasts, Drakes are much more content to not bother others, though they also don’t bare any mind to those around it which can cause issues. Any Wyvern I could’ve fit in this room would still have elemental breath and would be very liberal with its use. Next question.”
Harlan raised his hand.
“How are you able to do so much? Flight is supposed to be a costly magic, and you set up constructs across each desk with a large amount of detail. You are also speaking with sound magic, and I assume you’ve been at this for hours.”
Harlan felt Sepul was disappointed by the question.
“The only magic I am using is sound magic. The desks' effects are caused by swappable soulsmithing cores. My flight is actually hover, a spell which is soulsmithed into my clothes and causes me to be nearly weightless. While others keep me stable. Do you have a question about magical creatures?”
Harlan thought for a moment. Then he asked.
“Ghosts. You brought them up as related to a mental imprint, what does that mean?”
“You should clarify the question. But, a spell is a thought given form, you know of instinctual magics? Well a ghost is more or less when strong thoughts and emotions cause a ‘thought’ to latch onto an area or object. Unfortunately these are very very rarely positive emotions, leading to a hostile self perpetuating spell with some amount of intelligence, or rather instinct. We have yet to replicate such things.”
“Can they latch onto… People?”
“There has been no officially recognized cases of such a thing. If a mass tragedy was enough to latch a malevolent force on a person then we would have no wars, every general and soldier would be killed by their own actions causing these things to be made. I can hear the worry in your voice, no matter what you have done, you aren’t going to be chased by them until the end of your days, stories of such things are for the theater, not reality. I have time for another question.”
Harlan didn’t pay attention to what was asked next. Instead he sat in thought, glad that his idea that the other thing The Dark Mother mentioned was his mother’s spirit was wrong. At least, he hoped so. He still couldn’t get the nagging feeling that it was the answer out of his head.
People exited the room, even Sepul left for lunch.
Evidently the girl wanted to leave the room but she also wanted to latch onto Harlan, her own worry about missing lunch awoke Harlan from his mind.
“Sorry, do you want to go get lunch?”
She nodded her head and blushed, whatever was going on he didn’t like it, the idea of her being sent after him as someone to kick his protective instincts into overdrive was working, and the idea that they would send a girl who looked like his own sister to the academy as a honeypot made the fire inside him flare up.
They made their way to the cafeteria again. More people purposely bumping into him which he ignored, more people whispering outside of what they assumed was earshot.
Zella was already sitting at the table when he and the girl sat down.
She looked from Harlan to her and decided to throw away subtlety.
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“Harlan, who is that.”
“No idea, she was being bullied and I stepped in, she has been following me since then.”
“So you just let some random girl from Reino follow you around? What about that whole thing about ambushes last night.”
“She hasn’t bothered me and I couldn’t really let her get picked on because…”
Zella looked her over again and instantly saw the resemblance, she had to admit that she did look cute.
“Alright, I get that then, but can’t you just… I don’t know, shoo her away?”
“She isn’t a puppy, and don’t talk about her like she isn’t here. Are you alright? I didn’t ask before.”
She spoke in barely a whisper.
“I am alright… thank you for fixing my glasses…”
“What is your name? And Are you a spy?”
“Adina, and I am not a spy, I am very happy to be here though.”
“Why were those boys bothering you? I figured you guys were a bit more homogenous.”
“Ah… I am broken, normally someone like me would be killed to stop me from passing it on, so they believe I shouldn’t be wasting my time trying to be a mage.”
“That’s… Do you have any friends? Someone who can help you? They didn’t send you here alone did they?”
She shook her head.
“You are the first person to talk to me so nicely.”
Harlan could feel how deeply saddened by everything she was but how happy she was that she had him just speak nicely to her.
If she was an assassin, he knew that he was screwed, his paranoia fought every fiber of his being telling him that he should protect her but it was losing.
“Well, I guess I can be your first friend then.”
Zella gave him a look, she didn’t know who the girl was but she was absolutely sure he was making a huge mistake.
He thought he was too, but the emotions beaming off her when he called himself her friend nearly brought him to tears, to have such a life that even something so minor effected her so much was almost too much to bear.
“Really?”
She spoke with a voice ready to be let down.
“Of course, I don’t like lying, and I don’t want to start now.”
She hummed the rest of the meal and Zella glared at him, for all of his flaws she didn’t expect too soft to ever be anything she ascribed to him.
After the meal Harlan told them he wanted to go to the library alone, Adina figedted in her seat as she clearly wanted to go with but didn’t want to be a bother, so instead she went back to her room.
He made his way to the library, only being bumped into twice, the second one he bumped back. The boy put up a brave face but Harlan was sure the hit would leave a nice bruise.
Inside was a tall man, 8 feet tall and deathly thin. He was placing books back on the top shelf without a step ladder. Harlan waited at the front counter for him to finish his work.
Once he was done he stepped behind his counter he leaned down to speak with Harlan.
“How can I help you?” he spoke in a slow and tired tone.
“Where do I find books on magical creatures? Specifically true undead like ghosts and wraiths?”
He slowly moved his thin arm and pointed to a section near the back.
“There. Search by topic. We mark them with symbols. Skull for undead. Good day.”
“Thank you.”
The man smiled and nodded his head before grabbing another stack of returned books to place them back where they belonged.
Harlan took a few minutes of skimming to find a few books.
The first thing he noticed was how many of the authors took offense to the terms false and true undead.
It would seem a few hundred years ago before people knew what they were, the terms were made and they were now too deeply rooted to be corrected. Many of the authors asked that people use some alternative term, most agreed that just calling true undead undead was good. But they all had their own perfect word for false undead.
Subhumans. Because they were a subspecies. That one never took off for clear reasons outside of Reino. Unhumans, Inhumans, both rejected at large because of negative connotations and not being distinct enough.
Nightwalkers. Many species of false undead had no problem living in the daylight even if it was uncomfortable.
Semiliving, unclear and they were actually not undead at all.
Changed. Indistinct.
Immortals. Actively suppressed because it made it sound very appealing to some people and it was false. Some of them lived much longer than others, with werewolves often living only an extra 25 years. Though even that number was hard to pin down because werewolves so rarely died of old age, some groups even had the idea that they needed to die in combat to get to Aine after death. But none of them were actually immortal. With the oldest being a female pure vampire (another point was contention was the use of pure) who was born on a blood moon and turned as a newborn, she lived to be over 1000 years old. But records were scarce saying exact dates of birth and death. The whole story filled Harlan with disgust.
Harlan spent longer than he would’ve liked sucked into a book which was just debates from various groups for what each species and the general term should be. He couldn’t help but notice that none of them ever mentioned being one themselves or asking the Nightwatchers. These debates were from noble authors who had the free time to complain about words for people they never even asked.
But finally he opened a book he hoped was going to help clear things up.
Spirits and Ghosts: A guide to finding which things are going bump in the night.
He read the first chapter, which explained ghost was both a generic and specific term. All spirits were ghosts, but ones which formed from regrets were all specifically ghosts.
Then he found the chapter specifically on ghosts..
It was mostly the same exact speech from earlier about thoughts being magic and strong enough thoughts from a group or powerful person causing an imprint of their emotions on an area. He double checked the author.
Written by Archmage Sepul Dust. There was some kind of subtitle under his name, but it was scratched off.
But there was one section which he noticed. Claims of human possession by spirits, all personally investigated by him, all were cases of either Fae or someone trying to make up excuses for their heinous crimes. There was another small part about what happened after these people were judged by either him or a local court. But any by him were blacked out.
Harlan would’ve assumed it was because of the nature of the crimes, but those were left untouched.
A cannibal cult, a man who killed his family with a hammer, another who set his home afire after locking the doors and somehow was the only survivor.
There was mention of some groups being more likely to make a ghost, superstitious types were the most common source of such things. Though there were also cases of death cults making ghosts through ritual sacrifice, It was all interesting to him, but not what he wanted.
Next was wraiths. Ghosts which specifically manifested from anger and rage, these attack indiscriminately, often leaving mangled bodies in piles around the area in which they are bound. A wraith could not, in any cases he found, be bound to an object.
Leading to next chapters, revenants. Often called just ghosts are the most common type to come from single people, these are almost always bound to an object and will hide, never showing their power until they see the person who they are meant to kill. Almost always this leads to an investigation showing the victim was actually a killer who was simply getting their just desserts.
He moved to another he believed was a possibility, weepers.
Generally caused by a sad event which deeply affects a group, most commonly forming after a disease or famine wipes out most of a village. Often considered the ghosts of women who watched their children starve. It was close, but if it was his mother then it would be reversed.
He found the last one which he considered a remote possibility, since he was 100% sure it wouldn’t be a zombie or a tree of man, or any of the others which haunted and possessed the dead.
He found the chapter on banshees, also known as the scorned woman.
Though the name was a misnomer, as there was nothing stopping a man from leaving behind a banshee.
The exact stories are somewhat fuzzy. But they shared a general theme of someone who died screaming and not suddenly. His stomach turned as he read the stories related to the cases, but he kept going, that feeling in his stomach was back and he was starting to feel hot. One of the most freeform ghosts, they can be bound to an area or an object. Some kill their target and then move on like a revenant, some stick around to kill anyone who looks like their killer, these were the ones he needed to exorcise, a nice word for blasting an area with so much mana that it disrupted whatever the ghost was latched onto.
What Harlan found in the end and what formed a pit in his stomach was a case where a mother and father were tortured to death in front of their daughters, when the banshee formed it latched onto the knife that was used on them, and saving their children. Who then kept the knife around, they were able to help care for them for years before they started degrading, losing their sentience and turning more like the monstrous banshee who killed anyone who shared so much as a passing resemblance to their killer.
The book describes how they set up a proper funeral and burial for the knife which caused the banshee to peacefully disperse into mana.
Harlan still didn’t find a single case of a ghost being latched onto a person, but instead of feeling better he was being crushed by the stories he read. To him it reaffirmed his stance on killing those he thought needed it, but the ones he read about were already dead. They were gone but their crimes still happened, he couldn’t stop anything that was done. He had a thought, he could do something, if he built enough golems, could he watch everyone? He could fill cities with so many guards no one could get away with any crimes horrible enough to cause the creation of such things. He… He knew it wouldn’t help. He couldn’t be everywhere, he couldn’t force people to take what he made into their homes, some would take it. But if he made himself a warden to the world others would only rebel against it, to be locked into a cage was a terrible feeling, but if the world was a cage he would be driven mad, what he already dealt with was pushing on him.
His eyes filled with tears and he felt a warmth spreading from his chest, it wasn’t the blazing fire he felt telling him to hurt someone, it was a soothing warmth, like cuddling close to his mother’s chest on a cold night.
After a few minutes he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Books are great things. Terrible things. So much to feel from them. I will return them to their place. Dinner is soon.”
Harlan wiped his eyes.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t be making noise here.”
“Arrays keep noises contained. Not many readers. People take their books away.”
Harlan made his way out of the library, find a group of boys outside. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he shouldn’t hurt them unless they gave a just cause. His glare stopped them in their tracks, he was letting on a dangerous feeling, waiting for someone to try something, and that feeling was setting off the sixth sense of anyone who wished him harm.
He didn’t have a single person bump into him as he walked.
Thinking back, the ones who kept messing with him were all from Ragne.
Students from Reino seemed to only pick on those who couldn’t really fight back, most students from the Confederacy lacked the legal right to duel others.
Most of them were paid for by their parents who were merchants, their smaller noble class leading to their predicament.