The loud cheering of joy and excitement died as soon as Professor Silkwood flicked his fingers, and an invisible wind blast buzzed all the students’ ears.
Ignoring the low groans coming from all students, Silkwood began the ceremony for the first years.
The ceremony was quick and simple, during which Professor Silkwood cast a Robustum charm on the first-year students in order to detect any magic circle that would be used/created by the students, which was usually necessary if there were any incidents of assault occurred between students, and only when they were still in the academy area—under the protection of the Tutela-spell.
With a few more words from Professor Silkwood, all the students began to study in their respective classes.
“I just wish we could learn summoning magic in the first year,” Vxon intoned as he studied the schedule of subjects on the class board. “I adore cute magical beasts. Cute ones.”
Florian sat next to him at the same table. And, yes—they surprisingly became seatmates, which they also had no idea would end that way.
But if they could be honest, they only thought about their friendship's benefits.
One thought of the benefit of befriending a prince, and the other thought of the powerful support he would get from befriending someone from one of the Twelve Councils of Arcsvere.
“Monday seems boring, though,” soughed Florian with an audible, long sigh. Magic Theory and History of Magic—seriously? When will I learn to blast someone with my magic?
“Have you guys decided which extracurricular you will choose?” asked Morten, his curly, snowy-white hair swaying in the air after he jerked his body back towards Florian and Vxon’s table.
“Is that mandatory?” Florian asked Morten rhetorically. “I don’t even know how many extracurriculars are there.”
“Of course, it’s mandatory. First years have to choose at least one extracurricular,” replied Morten, waving the paper in his hand before handing it to Florian. “Here is the list of the extracurriculars—there are around dozens.”
“Dozens?” Florian repeated with a pinched expression, unable to quite fathom that almost half of those extracurriculars really existed in this academy. Cleaning the monsters' stables is also one of the extracurriculars?! Isn’t this just free labour?
“I probably will take a potion-making extracurricular. My brother joined a potion-making extracurricular last year. He told me that Professor Douglas often sleeps during his teachings, so he and his friends always experimented with many ingredients without Professor Douglas knowing it. Even nearly exploded the lab once,” Vxon told them with a little laugh, as though assuring them how much his brother had fun at that activity.
An extracurricular that might trigger an explosion? Florian looked at Vxon, deadpan, unable to find the fun part of that extracurricular. In his case, he would never join an extracurricular that could harm him. “Maybe I need to think about this first. And what about you, Morten—what extracurricular will you choose?” He turned to Morten instead.
Morten leaned closer and motioned Florian and Vxon to get closer too. The atmosphere somehow turned into a serious one.
“I want to join Sorcery Combat. Be—”
“But you are only allowed to join Sorcery Combat until you are in your third year,” Vxon cut him off, two lines appearing between his brows.
Morten wrinkled his face and sighed. “Listen to me first, Malcolm,” he hissed, and Vxon readjusted his position in his seat.
“I heard from my friend, Therese, that her brother will submit a proposal to Professor Silkwood, so the first year can join the Sorcery Combat extracurricular,” Morten spoke in a whisper, but his words caught every word clearly. Before he continued again, his eyes swept around, ensuring no one could eavesdrop. “I heard her brother fought a group of vampires in Quisfire a week ago, and he said the vampires are aiming for Groundlush students, especially the upcoming tournament!”
Vxon pulled his body and cast a skeptical look, his frown deepening. “A bunch of Vampire? Was he alone?”
“If he is still a student and fought a bunch of Vampires, how could he come back alive? Is he maybe known as one of the most powerful sorcerers in the academy?” Florian sparked a few more questions, an edge of distrust thick in his voice.
Morten still wore a serious look on his face, then wet his lips before he went on again, “Say, this is the secret part—Theo was alone, but then the Eyeless Saint appeared, and the vampires immediately stepped back.”
“The Eyeless Saint?!” Vxon repeated, his brows raising and his eyes widening. “You mean — the Great Gaurleen has returned?”
Florian could guess the eyeless saint Morten and Vxon were talking about, but he chose to feign ignorance, with ears ready for exciting news.
Then, surprisingly, a new voice entered the conversation.
“Yes, it is true that the Eyeless Saint has returned.”
The three boys synchronously turned to the boy sitting across from Florian, and it was Thomas.
“Oh, hi, there. Isn't this one with a blue face earlier?” teased Florian, smiling wickedly.
“His name is Thomas Hudson,” Vxon volunteered in the conversation, nudging Florian slightly, then turned to Thomas and held out a hand to greet. “Hi, Thomas.”
“Right—Thomas. How could I forget such a name?” Florian chuckled, his natural of teasing people suddenly reappearing for some reason. “So, how’s your indigestion? Have you vomited yet?”
“Seriously—that is your question?” Vxon whispered, shaking his head, then craned his neck slightly forward to look at Thomas. “You happen to look quite woeful, Thomas. You can excuse yourself to the bathroom or infirmary if your stomach still feels bad.”
“Or spit everything out into Vxon’s flashy spatial bag,” Florian supplied, his voice laden with mockery, and Vxon immediately turned to his electric-blue spatial bag, confused. It was a gift from his great-aunt before starting the first day of school. Was it too flashy and old-fashioned? Vxon wondered.
“What do you mean by—” Vxon seethed, but Morten quickly stopped him with a single clap.
“Hey, guys—this is a serious topic I’m having here,” squeaked Morten, and the other three turned to him again. “Okay, focus. This is still a top secret. Top. Secret. No one has confirmed the return of the Great Gaurleen after his long sleep.” His face and voice were solemn. And this time, he shifted to Thomas, who also had mentioned the Eyeless Saint. “And where did you learn about the Eyeless Saint has returned, Thomas?”
Fidgety, Thomas brought his hazel eyes towards Florian’s table, where the serious conversation was going on. He swallowed hard. “I knew it from my mother—she visited the Kyrios Temple yesterday,” he said, his voice twitchy.
“But who is this Great Gaurleen? What’s special about him?” Florian asked ignorantly, folding his arms and leaning against the chair.
“You didn’t know The Great Gaurleen?” Vxon was surprised, his voice rising.
“Good god! For the Dragon in the east!” Morten screeched, slamming the table in surprise, “You don’t kn—”
*WHACK* *WHACK* *WHACK* *WHACK*
Florian, Vxon, Merton, and even Thomas got a smack on their heads by the book. Wincing, they rubbed their head and saw the floating book landed on their tables: Magic Theory and Law of Magic (1st Volume) by Theofeleios Brehan McCullock and Meherka Tomihiko.
“Gossiping on your first day of school seems reeeeeeeealy fun, huh?” Professor Morrisey approached them with the tense atmosphere she carried along.
Morten immediately turned ahead and brought his chin on the chest, and Xiulan (his seatmate) shook her head in concern. She had been wary of how loud their conversation was but chose to stay silent because Professor Morrisey had been in the class earlier. Thomas’s anxiousness worsened—he had promised his mother to be a good student on his first day, yet he got scolded instead. Florian and Vxon, meanwhile, exchanged glances before shifting their gaze to the book. They seemed to be blaming each other through their eyes.
“On. The. First. Day…ought to give an appropriate impression, can you — Mr Frankland, Mr Malcolm, Mr Sommer, and Mr Hudson?”
Morrisey’s gripping voice echoed through the four boys so coldly and piercingly to the point they could not budge just for an inch. She stood between Florian’s table and Thomas’s and placed both palms on their table, staring at the four consecutively with her sharp brown eyes.
“I truly detest a circle that fills with a discussion outside the subject of my class. Do. You. Understand?!”
There was a pause as the four tried to muster up the courage and answered in unison, “Understand, Professor Morrisey.” And their voice was flat and soulless.
“Now—open your notebook and take out your pen. Students who don’t have stationary during the first day of school can go help Mr Hobart feed the shark swamps in the Tebris Lake,” told Morrisey, turning towards the front of the classroom, and fluttering the edge of her soft-blue robe.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
By the time Florian opened his spatial bag—a black leather briefcase with the runes surrounding the rim of the inner bag made of magic gemstone shards (keeping the spatial magic power in the bag)—Morrisey’s sudden call startled him.
“Mr Frankland,” called Morrisey in a tense tone. “Can you tell us what you know about Mana?”
Due to the sudden question, Florian answered the first thing that came to mind. “A magical power to perform magic…?”
Morrisey shot him a dissatisfied look and said, “Not wrong, but not the answer that I want.” She shook her head and clapped her palm on the table. “Go on—open up your notebook and prepare your pen, then open the book to page seven, the definition of mana.”
“Mana is defined as a natural energy that all humans and other living beings possess, along with aura – unity of power that participates in balancing human life. But underline the difference with aura, as Mana is essential energy related to all elements in the world, such as air, earth, fire, water, and many more. Mundane has both Mana and Aura, but we sorcerers have Mana that we can control… so the question is—why?”
Morrisey began to patrol around the class, observing the students to ensure they took notes.
“Anyone raises your hand and explains why we sorcerers can control our mana and will get extra marks!”
A silence descended over the class as no one raised their hands yet, except for the girl with butter-blond hair, who threw a hand up as though unwilling to be outdone by others even though no one raised their hands except herself.
“Yes, Miss Eline Foltyn?”
Eline drew in a long breath and inched up her round glasses before she began.
“Of the two natural powers/energies humans possess, humans can have or be born with more energy than either one. Mana is also an energy that can keep growing and getting stronger, which can cause the core of power that holds the mana energy to overflow. So that is the reason humans who have awakened their Mana can control it.”
“Excellent, Miss Foltyn!”
The rest of the students gave applause for the great explanation. Eline deserved it.
And so on, the class continued for the next two hours.
Definition of Mana – Theory of Runes – How Mana Works were the three points they learned in the first class on Monday. Then the class ended and continued with a lunch break for another hour and a half.
After the lunch break, the class continued with Professor Doolan to study the History of Magic. Unlike the bold and scary Professor Morrisey, Professor Doolan’s class was fun, where jokes and laughter always filled the class, which made the class atmosphere brighter after the tension in Morrisey’s class. Then after all the class ended, the students had free activities in the academy, but Florian chose to head back to the palace.
Weary with the day, all Florian wanted to do was go to his room, rest, do the homework that Morrisey gave him, and perhaps read the book about Sorcery Arts for the next day’s lesson if he had some energy left. His eyes and body got heavier and heavier the closer he approached his room, and his head had been buzzing strangely—thanks for all the shocking new stories his friends told him.
“Your Highness, the Queen Consort invites you to join the afternoon tea in Ayana Palace.”
But Shaun chose to give him hideous news at the worst time.
***
Ayana Palace was the palace for the Queen Consort and Princess.
It was a place where all the pretty and vibrant things resided. Beautiful flower gardens, pavilions with tables for tea parties, even an outdoor library along with a few lounge chairs, streams flowing on almost every side of the path, with colourful fishes swimming in it.
“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” greeted Florian, still in his uniform. Siofra, the Queen Consort, chuckled briefly as she placed the teacup.
Florian shifted towards the generous table in the glass pavilion, in the garden of fairy-green trees dripping coral, pink and peach-coloured flowers, like soft kisses on cheeks. Many kinds of desserts were served on the three-tiered plates, and colourful teapots piped pretty steam.
“I have officially become your mother, my dear, so you should call me mother,” Siofra said in a voice of silk and gestured for Florian to sit across her. “Do you have any particular tea you want, dear?”
“Anything is fine, Mother.” Florian slightly scrunched up his nose, feeling unfamiliar to mention the word mother.
With a gesture from Siofra, the maid poured tea into Florian’s teacup, and the scent of minty chamomiles gusted under his nose. Florian blankly stared at a piece of chamomile flower floating in his tea, unnecessarily adding more beauty.
“As it smells, it is chamomile tea brewed along with some mint leaves, which is good to relax and refresh your body.” Siofra smiled, her eyes curling. “I know you should rest after studying in the academy—it’s even your first day, so you must be exhausted. And I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”
“It is alright, Mother. There was nothing much to do in the academy that made me tired either,” Florian seamlessly lied through his gentle smile without showing the slight tiredness on his face.
Siofra smiled and studied Florian for a moment. “Sometimes, I have some thoughts that you look like your mother more than his majesty, but you actually look a lot like your father.”
Oh yeah? Good. Florian chose not to reply and just enjoyed the tea elegantly, contemplating a way out of the conversation.
“I was so close to the Queen—your mother—because we were also best friends during our youth,” Siofra claimed, waiting for Florian to look at her. “Have His Majesty told you more about her?”
Neither Florian’s lips nor his tongue moved, yet his face answered.
Then Siofra handed him a portrait. “Perhaps you’ve seen her pictures in the Royal Chamber, but I have one picture of her when we were in the university,” she explained, and Florian took the picture.
Florian had yet to visit the Royal Chamber, so he had no idea what his mother looked like.
Mother, he repeated as he thoroughly inspected the picture. His chest thrilled with something Florian could not quite name. Longing, anger, relief, and hope—all at once. The photo was in monochrome, and her mother just looked like she was in her late teens, with a longsword in her hand. She had an excessively beautiful face, long hair in a ponytail, a wide, happy smile, and eyes that he could tell were similar to his and Cithrel’s, but neither her pointed ears nor tail were seen.
“After the miscarriage of her first child, the Queen, your mother, told me that if she were to have another child, she had no desire to make her second child someone who would sit on the throne—” Siofra paused; the smile on her face had disappeared, and her gray eyes suddenly looked so cold. “But the law exists—clear and absolute. The throne must be dethroned by a legitimate descendant of the King and Queen.”
And it’s me. Florian gulped, his stomach churning at Siofra’s intense gaze on him, then lowered his gaze to look at the teacup in his hand. But I have no desire to be a king.
He really didn’t.
“Shall we take a walk while continuing our conversation? I have something to show you.”
Florian was a bit surprised by her sudden offer. But he followed, anyway.
Oddly enough, Siofra did not talk about the matter of the Crown Prince’s position or anything like Florian guessed. Perhaps not yet. She just peaceably strolled over the bluestone pavers walkway, further and further back, until she stopped at a small graveyard in front of the gate that divided the palace and a forest.
The graveyards did not seem to be the ones for royalty as the tombstones appeared to be way simpler than most tombstones for commoners. There were less than twenty tombstones in total, neatly lined up, and only a few had names engraved.
“Princess Willow had a twin,” Siofra, finally, began as she stood in front of a small tombstone with no name engraved but the date of the death: 19-Jan-1308.
“What happened to her twin?” Florian was rather mad at himself for blurting out that question, but he could not help it.
Siofra lowered her body and squatted down, ignoring her yellow dress that almost matched her golden hair strewn on the ground. “My dead second daughter was killed on purpose.” Despite her wistful words, her voice was flat. “She had red hair, just like yours and the King’s, and beautiful blue eyes like Cyrus’.”
“Why was she killed on purpose?” Florian was tentative with his question, not wanting to press too far.
Rising, Siofra shifted towards Florian and took a step closer, bringing her silver eyes into Florian’s. “There’s a prophecy before I gave birth to my twin girls—" She raised her hand to touch Florian’s cheek. Her eyes narrowed, making Florian seriously tense up to the point that he could scarcely breathe. Even though she was wearing silk gloves, Florian could feel the chill by her touch.
She smiled vaguely, her head tilting to the side, and continued, “The prophecy says there will be no more ruler with hair of blood from House Frankland, and Adrian will be the last. Otherwise, the throne and the kingdom will be only covered in blood and misfortune.”
Florian drew in a shallow breath and took a step backwards. Settling the nerves, he inched his chin up and tried to summon some courage. “It is only a mere prophecy, right?” He asked, disbelieving the tone of his voice. “And it will only happen when the next ruler or king has hair of blood. It is how the prophecy works, isn’t it? But alas, I have absolutely no interest in becoming a ki—"
But the hard slap from the Queen Consort stopped him.
Something fell across Siofra’s features. A wrath. And loathing. Her eyes welled up, depicting a grudge boiling in her veins.
“That look—those eyes,” Siofra muttered under her seething breath, her lips trembling. “I see—you are no different from your mother. The way you both talked about not going to be someone the tons expected you to be, but eventually, it all will prove to be just a lie—sheer nonsense just to make someone miserable as you will still take them in the end.”
Florian ducked his head; anger hardened his heart and clouded his thoughts. It was his first time being slapped by someone. No matter how naughty and rebellious he was, neither Rebeca nor Locke ever slapped him in the face. But this? What did I do wrong? Florian bit his lower lip, feeling injustice.
“So…do you want to kill me too because of that prophecy?” Florian managed to drag the words out in his strained voice, his eyes still on the ground.
Siofra smirked. “I don’t fancy wasting an innocent pawn,” she answered in a cold whisper, then violently took Florian jaw and pulled it up in a force, pressing it so hard that he winced and groaned inwardly. Florian’s heart started to race. But Siofra shot him a glare, telling him to stay still. “If you want to live, I will give you a choice.”
There was a choice, after all.
“Help my son Cyrus to beat Charles’ power in order to take the position of the Crown prince and serve him no matter what he orders you, that way you can live peacefully in the palace—live as you like, eat as you like, whatever it is that you want—as long as you serve Cyrus and live under his authority. Otherwise, leave the kingdom and never show up again, and with that, I can do as I please: kill you or sell you into slavery.”
Siofra pinned her head to the side, twisting her lips into a sly smile that seemed to be rarely shown to everyone, but it suited her face very much.
“Although the law regarding the royal throne does exist and is valid, the power and vote of the twelve councils can still beat it. Therefore, help my son gain their powers and votes. You are the Queen’s son—remember that. Because with that alone”—Siofra paused, looking away for a second to let out a brief chuckle—"Oh, you don’t know how big your impact is on the councils, my dear. So better use it wisely for the safety of your future.”
Florian swallowed dry saliva, trying to draw away from her threatening face, but her grip wouldn’t let him. Siofra even tightened her grip, forcing him to focus on her ferocious eyes.
“I have tens of assassins who could kill you like it’s just an accident, my dear. And their eyes and ears are everywhere. So, if a single word about this conversation was leaked, you know the consequences.”
Then Siofra let go of her hand and whirled, leaving the graveyard, leaving Florian, who was pale and still in shock.
Florian was sweating profusely and felt like throwing up. He bent his body forward, eyes on the ground, his hand resting on his knees. His breath had turned irregular, and his chest heaved up and down as he tried to steady his breath. To calm himself.
And he did. He threw up.
Shit. He mouthed a curse and wiped his lips.
Unfolding his body, Florian turned skyward and perhaps tried to look for a tiny bit of miracle and mercy from the uncaring universe. Everything felt so suffocating for him. Did he make the wrong choice to follow Cithrel? Should he just run away from this place? No. No retreating, he reminded himself, then brushed his hair with both hands in frustration.
I feel like moving into a tiger’s den.
With no turning back. With no allies. And just alone.
‘Good lord, she is so scary!’
‘Do not reencounter her, Florian.’
The Wind and fire spirit told him, and their voice made him realize that he was not quite alone.
No, I’m not entirely alone.
Mutely chuckling, Florian turned skyward again and grinned. Unknowingly, tears rolled down his cheek.
“Then, I should learn to be one.”