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An excerpt from Jean Duplessis’ book titled ‘Our World, & My Journey’

Lancaster Academy is grand beyond even the mind’s imagination. As I write this, I’m quite cozy in a room with a splendid view over the grounds, yet it still feels like it might be an oil painting or maybe even a really elaborate prank. Its no secret that magic is a cornerstone of our society. It runs our refrigerators and stoves and boats and trains. Even so, I’ve never been to a place so heavily rooted in magic. Here, it seeps out of every edifice; the walls, floors, even the plants in the gardens ooze magic.

The students have been here long enough that they seem to be used to it. They say that if you smell a certain thing for long enough, you attain a sort of blindness to said smell. The same must be true for magic, as I believe I would drive myself slowly insane if I was sensing such a thing constantly. No doubt the constant scent of a rose would drive you mental after long enough as well. I digress. Today, a student asked me why I appear so disturbed. I thought that was quite funny. The word I would use is certainly not ‘disturbed’. By this place I am enamoured, amazed, flabbergasted. To a learned mage, it is heaven; to me, it is unfathomable.

* Jean Duplessis

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Monday, September 2nd, 996 ABE

A poster fluttered gently on the wall. ‘Do your part! Hunt the Magekiller!’.

One week since the semester had begun at Lancaster Academy of the Magical Arts. With a campus large enough to take up its own quadrant of Lancaster itself, the school was the most reputable on the entire continent of Theria, and responsible for producing all of the most powerful warriors of the previous millennia. Minerva Whiscourt was not one of these powerful warriors.

She walked with a slight hesitation as if never quite certain of her next step. Her black eyes danced around like she was expecting an attack from somewhere. Solid black hair fell from each side of her head like curtains, cut in a perfectly straight line at the shoulders. From underneath the hair poked tiny pointed ears. Ears of a half-elf. No matter how Minerva tried, she couldn’t hide those ears she’d grown to hate. Standing in the crowd made their tips go red with embarrassment. Somehow, some way, she felt like everyone was staring at her.

Though she came from one of Lancaster’s six noble families, Minerva was something of a black sheep in her family. This left her in an uncertain social position. She was high enough above the common students to be worshipped and have her boots kissed, but too far below the true nobles to join their ranks. Those eyes that she felt weren’t imaginary. There were those who knew of her status at House Whiscourt, curious students who observed her and wondered about the supposed noble reject called Minerva Whiscourt. Even if her ears gave away how she truly felt, her face said nothing. A noble woman must keep a calm and cool demeanour, that was what she told herself. It all came crashing down when she got near the edge of the crowd and saw exactly what they’d gathered for.

The cafeteria in the Leewood Centre was packed at lunchtime, but that was to be expected. Light from the midday sun shone in from the massive stained glass windows that covered the ceiling in a curving motion. They depicted scenes from times of old that Minerva didn’t recognize, their images set ablaze by the light. Just below them hung banners representing religious images. Icons representing each of the six greater gods. The largest of them all was of the Goddess of magic, Mira, often called the Queen of the Gods. This, at least, Minerva knew; there weren’t any living on the continent of Theria who wouldn’t.

On the ground level, hundreds of tables bathed beneath the sunlight. Students occupied most of them, bickering loudly with each other, complaining about classes and such. To the left of the room when entering through the main doors, was a series of windows to order food. With such a volume of students, more than one window was needed. Of course, at that moment, no one dared to do anything but watch. The whole room was still, staring at a fixed point in the middle of the cafeteria. A fight, or perhaps an argument. Minerva crept through the crowd, brushing their shoulders to get a better look. Students parted ways naturally when they realized who she was.

The air was deathly silent. Not even a breath could be heard. The clacking of Minerva’s dress-shoes echoed through the chamber as she reached the front of the crowd. Then came the echo of a strike, a bare hand on another’s skin. Minerva’s jaw unhinged, but only slightly. Her eyes told a story of anger. Fire was alight where there was once darkness. Slowly, she clenched her fist, gulping down what resistance had presented itself and resigning herself to watching in silence.

Ulfric Arrowheart had been struck to the floor, cradling his face in one hand. He attempted to stand, but the perpetrator kicked the back of his knee in and sent him sprawling. Nina Adler was the one doing this, a member of the student council and also from one of the noble families like Minerva. The noble families were financiers of the school, so their children were not only virtually guaranteed entry but could more or less get away with doing whatever they wanted, including but not limited to beating the snot out of a freshman in the middle of the cafeteria.

Nina was a short, curvy girl with perfectly straight blonde hair. She adjusted the glasses on her face with a self-satisfied huff. Also, she happened to be the Community Manager of Lancaster’s Student council, and a woman of utmost importance to the student population. It was an unusual scene, seeing a girl of her stature beating on the at least six-foot Ulfric. But Ulfric was walking on far too many eggshells as it was. Even if it were possible, beating up Nina would get him nothing but an expulsion. This was a one-sided beating, through and through; everyone in the room including Nina knew that, even if she surely told herself otherwise in her head.

Ulfric had been spawning controversy since he performed a miracle only a week before. Apparently, he’d beaten out someone of importance during the entrance exam, therefore stealing their spot in the academy. That alone would be enough to paint a target on someone’s back, except he also happened to be the first applicant without magic to be accepted to the academy in a millennia. It was a double jinx, and the nobility would continue to do all they could until Ulfric either gave up or was expelled.

Minerva had sympathy for a person like that. Ulfric, ultimately, was powerless in the face of the nobility. She understood what it was like to be someone who didn’t fit quite right. Even so, she knew it was stupid and even selfish to compare her situation to his. After all, she was standing and watching him get beat, yet doing nothing about it. She tapped her foot eagerly, and let tiny particles of mana flutter across her palms. I can’t do anything, she thought. If I ever want to stand on the same level as them, I have to be their ally. Ignore it, Minerva. She bit her lip and crossed her arms. Watching for only a few moments longer, stuck in a stupor. Nina kept yelling unintelligible things, while Ulfric took the beating wordlessly.

She turned her head sharply to the side, clenching her fists tighter. There was nothing to be done on her part. It was best to take advantage of the commotion and get in line for food. The crowd began to disperse as if Minerva commanded it. With no audience, Nina stopped and vanished into the cascade of students. It was almost as if the act didn’t have a purpose without an audience. Beating Ulfric hadn’t been an act of personal hatred, but rather a demonstration to remind the students who deserved to be looked down upon.

Magic fluttered about the kitchen. Cooks slaved over stoves powered by magical flames and magic circles drawn on paper to perform certain functions. The actual content of the circles and how to make them was the job of someone with a much more intricate understanding than Minerva. She turned her eyes to the dishwashers on the opposite side. There were only two of them, and they ran the dishes under a slab that rhythmically casted purifying magic on the trays and plates. It was an extremely efficient operation that allowed Minerva to receive her food almost instantly.

She found a table in the corner where no one else was. It was places like that where she felt safest, far away from the eyes and in a spot where she could overlook the entire room. She settled in, and immediately started lunging into her food soon after. She’d had two hours of magic theory lectures and an hour of history with no breakfast to start the day. That kind of thing quickly exhausted the mind, or at least exhausted Minerva’s.

Ulfric limped over to her table. The leg Nina had stomped on wasn’t quite broken, but it definitely wasn’t uninjured. In his hand, he cradled his cheek which was already bruised, and the one eye he still had was turning black. He sat down at the table with a grunt, as if the very action of moving was causing him pain. When he finally settled in, he let out a mighty sigh and simply drew a book from his interior jacket pocket. “Lovely girl, that one,” he said to no one in particular.

The boy was eighteen. He had short and practical brown hair and a dark eye that glared at you like a wolf. His chin was sharp, and his body was in remarkable shape compared to the average mage. Where others used magic, Ulfric compensated with training. He wore the academy’s uniform, a white buttoned shirt, black pants, and a dark red blazer. The blazer and shirt, however, were rolled up to the elbows, and he didn’t wear a tie with the shirt. When Minerva had asked why he wore the uniform in such an unprofessional way, he simply replied ‘practicality’.

Then, of course, there was the left eye surrounded by a massive spot of scarring where Minerva had watched him get shot during the entrance exam. The academy no doubt had healing mages strong enough to restore a lost eye or limb, and yet Ulfric still kept that eye closed like he’d received the wound just yesterday. Perhaps, like most other people, the mages had also hated him too much to even provide a service as essential as healing.

“Not feeling the food today?” Minerva asked.

Ulfric looked up from his book, ‘The Mechanics of Barrier Magic’. He appeared slightly surprised as if he’d expected to sit at her table and not be spoken to. “From here? They’d just spit in it if I got any,” he shrugged.

Minerva paled. “Has that happened before?”

Ulfric nodded.

“How’d you find magic theory earlier?” She asked. In class, she’d seen Ulfric in the far corner of the lecture hall looking quite disinterested the whole time.

Instead of responding, Ulfric posed a question. “There are six greater gods. Supposedly they each represent a category of magic. Mana, solid, liquid, gas, reality, and time…” He counted the magics on his fingers. “Only they don’t teach about magics related to time. Six gods, five magics. Why do you suppose that is?”

Minerva tilted her head. “Because time magic doesn’t exist,” she stated. She said so with certainty, but doubted the statement soon after it had left her mouth. After all, it was perhaps cocky to say that something definitively didn’t exist, especially in the realm of magic.

“Hm. I wouldn’t be so certain,” Ulfric said somewhat dismissively. Uninterested in Minerva’s seeming ignorance, he put his head back down into his book.

This isn’t a good look for me. Because of Minerva’s strange position, Ulfric was the only person she’d truly ‘befriended’ in her first week after they’d saved each other’s necks in the entrance exam. She was unaware of what she was doing at the time, befriending who would go on to be the school’s most hated freshman. Even if the common students didn’t say much to her due to her ‘noble’ status, she was sure it didn’t reflect well on her. As for Ulfric, he somehow had more friends than she did, but insisted on bothering her, even though he hardly spoke unless spoken to… I’m supposed to be above him, I can’t just let him ignore me! Have to get him to talk somehow.

“Did you hear?” Minerva asked, tapping her foot and fiddling under the table. “The call for help from the Dragon Guard?”

Ulfric turned up from his book again, looking slightly annoyed. Even so, he nodded somewhat neutrally. “Sure. About that ‘vigilante’, right?”

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“Magekiller,” Minerva said with a tone of reverence. Her palms grew sweaty just thinking about it. After all, if he was targeting nobles, then she was bound to be somewhere on the list. “The Student Council President is supposed to be making a speech about it later.”

Ulfric scoffed. “That guy… I’ve got more important things to do.”

Minerva raised a brow. “Ulfric, it's mandatory.”

“We’ll see how mandatory it really is.” Ulfric waved a hand dismissively. “Anyways, why us? Why a bunch of students?”

“Dragon Guard top brass is busy,” Minerva said, then rolled her eyes, “they usually are.” She’d heard whispers about it in the streets over the last week. The activities of the Dragon Guard were usually cloak and dagger, but the movements of such important people rarely went unnoticed. They said that the Director, Ellis Englund, had gone up North to deal with some sort of rebellion. As for the twenty or so Enforcers that he had control of, seemingly unaccounted for. Perhaps the ordeal up north is a bigger problem than the whispers claim…

“Ain’t that the truth,” Ulfric laughed. “Then again, in the grand scheme of things, what do a couple of dead nobles mean to the Dragon Guard? I’m sure they have bigger fish to fry.” He shrugged.

I struggle to imagine what could possibly be a bigger fish than the ruling class of this continent’s biggest city being killed off by some mysterious figure. Minerva pushed that all to the back of her mind. Hunting down the Magekiller had fallen to the students, and for her that was technically a good thing. Catching a criminal like that would’ve been exactly the kind of reputation boost she needed. Was it possible? Regular Dragon Guard grunts and the hired arms of the nobility weren’t enough, clearly. On that note, it was unlikely Minerva would be able to do it herself. With the help of a certain someone, though…

“Ulfric…?” Minerva asked slowly. Why am I getting nervous? Exert some of your authority!

“No,” Ulfric replied. He effortlessly sliced through whatever chain of thought she was attempting to conjure. “I’m not going to help.”

Minerva just stared at him with a blank expression.

“It wouldn’t get me much other than money and some friendship points with you… Which isn't really worth sticking my neck out over, no offence.” Ulfric nodded in solidarity.

Ouch. Minerva just puffed her cheeks and gave a weak humph, which Ulfric scoffed at. “I doubt I’m strong enough to do it without you,” she admitted. “And I–”

“Need the social status, right?” Ulfric asked. “I understand the situation, don’t worry.”

How is he so good at that? I feel like he’s reading my mind… Maybe that’s his true ability. “You understand, so why?” She asked. “It would mean a lot to me if–”

“I’m sure it would.” Ulfric laughed softly to himself. “What gives you the impression that I have the strength to stop this guy? If you can’t, then I certainly can’t. If you want to improve your reputation, you can start by telling me to bugger off,” he joked but looked at her as though it was a common sense answer. Ulfric lied as easily as he breathed.

Minerva had seen firsthand the havoc he caused during the entrance exam. He was simply keeping up appearances. None of the people he’d beaten the snot out of had made it to the academy after all, so no one knew what he was truly capable of except Minerva. She wasn’t entirely sure what she had seen that day. It wasn’t magic, but it certainly wasn’t normal. Ulfric’s answer and apparent willingness to feint his weakness told her all she needed to know. She’d let it go. As for the second part, he was right, but she still wouldn’t do such a thing.

“Sweet Mira… Well, whatever,” she said, defeated.

Ulfric already wasn’t paying attention. He read a line in his book and mumbled to himself almost silently. “That will be troubling…”

Minerva frowned but decided to give it up and leave him to his reading. She returned her attention to her food which had been slowly going cold, and dug in.

* * *

Minerva looked through a window in the doorway that led to the massive assembly hall. The speech was about to begin, with the final classes of the day ending about half an hour before. Minerva had taken her time, visiting the library to check out a book relevant to her class, and eventually making her way back down, deliberately moving slowly. She still largely had no idea about how to get around the school, hardly remembering where her constantly changing classes were even located. For that reason, the day had been especially exhausting. She lingered near the doorway and wondered if she had the mental capacity to listen to a speech.

“We’ll see how mandatory it really is,” she mumbled, smiling to herself. With a textbook tucked under her arm, she dismissively turned away from the door and strode toward the outside. It was around dinner time, so she’d use the distraction to quickly grab food from the girl’s dorms while the line was nonexistent. Her mouth began to water thinking about it.

The main courtyard of the school, Adler Court, was easily half a kilometre across. Coming out of the multi-floored Leewood Centre of Spellcraft and Combat Arts, the boy’s dorm was to her left and the girl’s dorm to her right. Ahead was a vast park and gardens that currently housed a variety of students who seemed just as happy as she was to skip the ‘mandatory’ assembly. Across the park was another massive building, the Hajimori Centre of Potioncraft and Blacksmithing. There, they didn’t teach those things exclusively of course. Regardless, nothing in there was of Minerva’s forte.

As she walked through the grounds, she ran her hands along the hedges of the vast gardens that took up a quarter of the courtyard. Mana floated through the air, especially so in the courtyard. It was a place where students practiced, and groundskeepers worked. At the boy’s dorm, two men stood, launching water from their hands in massive volleys and cleaning off the sides of the building. As for the ground, leaves and other debris were swept away by brooms that moved independently like animals; this, Minerva admitted she was clueless as to its inner workings. I wonder, could something like that be achieved by granting a semi-consciousness and commands to a broom, as you would with summoning magic?

She found an empty bench and reclined, opening her book to the first page. Magical properties of ice. As a mage commonly referred to as an ‘icemancer’, Minerva was constantly seeking to improve her capabilities beyond her limits so that her next combat trial wasn’t as pitiable as the one she’d shown at the entrance exam. She huffed, brain hardly registering the words she was reading. I wonder what Ulfric’s doing that’s more important. If I could get him to help me, or train me, I’m sure I’d learn a lot more than I would from a book.

Twenty minutes passed by. The speech was some time in the middle. Minerva closed her book after breezing through a chapter and finally stood up to go get the food, realizing she’d wasted too much time. A hand rested upon her shoulder as she stood, activating her fight or flight response. She thrust her arm out to strike, but the assailant caught her wrist with little effort. I put all of the mana I could muster quickly into that strike. Was it still not fast enough?

“Calm down, now. Take a seat. I’m not here to beat you up,” a voice said.

Minerva turned her head slowly. The man had brown-blonde hair, but more so blonde. It was parted perfectly down the middle with two curtains that cascaded down either side of his face. His features were soft and subtle, his skin clear. He was unbelievably handsome, in Minerva’s opinion, and she knew exactly who it was at only a glance. She turned away immediately, blushing profusely, ears red. “I’m so sorry, President!” She cried.

“It's really no problem. It's reassuring to see that your instincts are sharp,” he smiled. “Sit down.”

“Yes sir.” Minerva obeyed quickly. Student Council President, Cedrick Boneshaw! What does he want with me?

Cedrick stepped past her and sat down on the opposite side of the bench. It was a small bench, so their legs were basically touching together. Minerva’s heart rate increased two or three times, and only more so when she saw the blood stains on his uniform. Her chest thumped as if she had run a marathon, though she sat perfectly still. Cedrick paid her no mind for the moment, licking his thumb and trying to wipe the tiny blood stains off. “Gah! That’s gonna stain,” he said to himself.

“Sir–?” Minerva asked.

“No need to address me so formally, Ms. Whiscourt. Our families are allies. We’re technically of the same social standing. You can call me Cedrick.” He reached his hand out to her.

She took it with significant hesitation. He’s so businesslike. At the balls and parties I only ever saw him from afar. Up close, he’s scary! “Cedrick. It’s nice to meet you, finally,” she said. Her voice seemed to become a tad more friendly when she spoke to him. She didn’t think she had any control over that variable.

“Long overdue. I think I’ve had my fill of dealing with your brother. You seem to be more…” He searched for the word.

Awkward? Pathetic? She thought.

“Personable,” he said finally.

Minerva laughed softly in relief. “I understand better than anyone. Edward can be a bit–”

“Full of himself?” Cedrick asked with a chuckle. “Though a man like that probably has every right to be.”

So Edward looked down on even you? I guess I’m not surprised. Minerva considered her next words carefully. “If you’re not here to beat me up–” She glared at the blood stains on his outfit. “What are you here for? Aren’t you supposed to be making the speech?”

Cedrick spared a glance toward the auditorium and waved it off. “I don’t believe this Magekiller is a cause for concern. I’m letting the Vice President take care of it.”

I haven’t met the vice president yet, Minerva thought. Even you, Cedrick, have something more important to attend to. Curious.

“As for you, there’s a mission,” Cedrick said.

“A mission? For me?” Minerva asked. “Are you sure you haven’t got the wrong person?”

“I’ve got the right one,” Cedrick said confidently. “And I happen to be understanding of your current social position, Minerva. I don’t believe you deserve the treatment you’ve suffered, unlike the rest of the nobles. You do this for me, myself and the rest will surely look upon you with favour.” He drew a small piece of paper from his jacket pocket, scribbled something extra on an already written letter, and handed it to her folded. “I don’t care if you read it,” he clarified, “just not now.”

“What is it?” Minerva wondered.

“It’s regarding your friend, Ulfric Arrowheart.” Cedrick’s face twisted as he said the boy’s name.

Should’ve known. “I would say friend is stretching it,” Minerva replied. Sorry, Ulfric. Tough world out there.

Cedrick turned to her and raised a brow. Minerva wasn’t sure what that meant. “That’s reassuring to hear. We as the nobility believe that his presence here reflects badly on both us and the academy, despite what Principal Leewood claims. We’ve decided to take it into our hands to remove him, only…” Cedrick glanced toward the boy’s dorm. “The task just became a bit more difficult, if what I’ve learned is to be believed. So I need your help, Minerva.”

“Consider it done,” Minerva said immediately. Even if she had moral qualms about it, this wasn’t a chance she would readily turn down.

“Great.” Cedrick patted her on the shoulder. “Take that letter to your father. I’d do it myself, but there’s business to attend to around here. Tell him to forward the information to my own father as well. When that’s done, come see me in the council office. Understood?”

“I’ll get it done, Cedrick.” Minerva nodded curtly, and the president shot her a smile before walking away to whatever business he had. Perhaps it was to wash out the bloodstains on his jacket.

Minerva let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. Cedrick Boneshaw needed her for something. Cedrick Boneshaw! She placed a palm over her mouth as an uncontrollable smile broke across her lips. She tapped her feet quickly on the ground and let out a tiny yelp. This was the chance she’d been waiting for, the chance she needed. Maybe befriending Ulfric wasn’t such a bad idea after all…

I’ll have to betray him, she thought. I don’t have a choice. Ulfric himself told me to abandon him, but I don’t think this is what he meant… She shook her head. Nobles didn’t have issues with morality. They were ruthless, criminal, and frighteningly effective. Squashing a bug like Ulfric on her road to the top was probably the least of her worries, that was what she told herself. Clutching the letter to her chest, Minerva discarded her morality, just this once.

Even so, she wasn’t looking forward to going home. If she was going to commit to her duty, however, she wouldn’t let it stop her. Minerva decided to skip dinner. If she thought about it too much, she’d end up scaring herself off. She crossed the campus immediately, marching triumphantly through the gates and disappearing into the vast cityscape beyond them.