Florian had a new goal after he just became a prince: to live a normal and easy life as an academy student and, of course, to level up and get stronger without worrying about money and the burden of being the oldest brother.
But nothing would ever be easy.
Yes, nothing.
Since he had chosen not to be killed or sold into slavery, he had to bear the consequences.
“Noble etiquettes, mathematics, science, history, geography, philosophy, politics, languages, and additional arts: like music, drawing, dancing, and even sculpting—those will be the lessons, and there will be about ten tutors teaching you in a week,” Cyrus paused and smiled gently and innocently. His blue eyes focused on Florian, who stood still in his pajamas. “Of course, these additional studies will take place after you return from the academy. You shall discuss the place to study with the tutors. Either you want to study in the garden, your room, library—it is up to you to choose.”
Can I not choose any of them at all?
The words were in his mouth, but Florian had no courage to let them escape. He remained adamant about staying still and expressionless.
“But I have no interest in music, drawing, or even sculpting,” he said at last.
“We are royals, Florian. We must be good at everything, even sculpting beaver statues.”
Beaver? Florian blankly blinked a couple of times. “And I have also learned about geography and maths, brother.”
“Nevertheless, you will have to take a test on the extent of your knowledge in both subjects.”
Florian said nothing and accepted his loss.
“Florian.” Cyrus climbed out of his chair and drew closer to him. They were nearly the same height; Cyrus was about five centimeters taller. “Do you think being strong only physically can keep you in the royalty?” His tone was cold and low, nearly like a whisper but clear in every syllable.
Nervous didn’t seize Florian as it should. Instead, a spark of vigil did, and that unsettled him more than anything. Cyrus and his mother were so alike that it scared Florian a bit. And by looking at his face, Florian recalled the experience he had with the queen a few hours ago. It made his stomach lurch.
“Born with royal blood—the first second you breathe, your life is already in the political sphere,” Cyrus continued, still locking Florian’s eyes.
Florian chose not to say anything and listened to Cyrus more thoroughly.
“Because I do not want my pawn to be useless—I do not want you to be a prince without knowledge. A prince who knows nothing. A lost prince”—Cyrus inhaled a steady breath—"thus, I need to shape you, carve you, so you can be worthy of being by my side and call yourself a prince of Arcsvere. Someone from the Frankland Household.”
A pawn. That word felt like a slap for Florian, reminding him that it wouldn’t be easy to survive in this tiger’s den.
Silence fell upon Cyrus’ office as Cyrus seemed to wait for his reply or opinion, but nothing moved in Florian’s body. Not even his lips. At this point, Florian seemed to have mastered the art of standing still like a statue—precisely like the guards guarding the palace.
“And I’ll give you the first mission while you sharpen your blade,” Cyrus said, his voice soft this time.
Florian’s brows shot up, and his eyes sparkled with interest. “What is it, brother?” he asked and inwardly continued, tell me it’s a mission where I will be like an assassin or a secret knight.
Cyrus breathed a brief, inaudible chuckle, his blue eyes holding Florian’s eyes tighter as though telling him not to avert, resist, and surrender. “I want you to pretend to choose Charles’ side for me.”
And Florian’s wish just shattered into pieces. He held his breath and blinked, making sure he heard him right.
“You just have to spend your time with the twins and Charles,” clarified Cyrus to the confused Florian.
“Like a spy or something? But what shall I report to you?”
“You can report anything you like, Florian. Furthermore, I’ll be doing a review at least once a week to see how much you’ve improved, and while at it I shall teach you how to be a proper Frankland through my way.”
Academy. Additional tutors. Now, special study to be a proper Frankland with Cyrus? When will I be free and have fun? Florian darted his eyes away for a second, exhaling a resigned sigh in the process.
“There are still approximately five years before the King and the Councils officially choose the next heir to the throne—but there is a case where the King would announce it earlier, especially during our coming-of-age ceremony. And in that time frame, I want you to convince him that you haven’t chosen a side, so you can be by his side.”
Florian frowned slightly and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “So, I need to pretend to choose his side only to spy on him for you?”
Cyrus smiled, but there was a hint of resignation in his eyes that confused Florian. “I know you are quick-witted, Florian.” But his compliment didn’t sound like a compliment. Not at all.
“But what if—”
Florian was cut off by Cyrus raising his hand; all his fingers folded except for his index finger.
“I detest what ifs, unreasonable excuses, and failures,” came rather coldly from Cyrus, which made Florian get a strike of goosebumps. “If I were to give you a task with a high probability of failure, I would mention it in advance.”
No backup. No failure. Make it a success no matter what—was what Florian caught by Cyrus’ gaze.
“Alright, brother. I’ll do it,” said Florian, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but merely accepting the order.
“Sure, I trust you.” This time, Cyrus formed a gentle, soothing smile, much like Locke’s, which Florian rather hated to see. “Oh, since Father has given me the authority regarding the incident in your previous orphanage. For your information, they have buried all the bodies and collected some items that might be important for you—”
“I do not want them,” Florian interrupted, his voice steady but not his eyes.
Cyrus bent his head slightly to the side and lifted his brows, like a curious bird. “You don’t want to visit the house and their graves or maybe collect some important stuff that can still be saved?”
What house when everything had gone flying? Florian chewed his lips as he almost said that question aloud.
“I can ask a royal sorcerer to assist you and transport you to Varaklich if you want to, Florian. It’s not a big deal, and you don’t have to do it now. Maybe on weekends when you are free,” Cyrus assured, and Florian toppled his chin, unable to believe he would be offered the chance to visit the place where everyone he once loved died because of him.
That offer was clearly something he had expected and also not. Part of him wished to visit the house and bid them farewell accordingly. But the same nightmare he endured every night that felt as though a reminder of his guilt only made that wish to disappear—no, Florian was honestly scared to face his past. He had no courage to see the wrecked house, the grave of the children and Maman Rebecca, and literally everything related to his past in Arallean village.
Yes, he was being a coward here, and he was aware of it.
Seeing the stillness of Florian, Cyrus drew a sigh and approached him. “I understand.” He placed a palm against Florian’s shoulder in the name of his concern. “Let’s just forget the past and keep moving forward. You don’t have to see them if you don’t want to, and I won’t force you either. But in case you need anything, just ask me—do not hesitate. I’m your older brother, so relying on me is fine—I don’t mind it at all.”
Cyrus patted Florian’s shoulder a couple of times. The smile on his face was gentle and warm, befitting the features of a reliable older brother, yet leaving Florian longing for someone like him.
----------------------------------------
Florian was not religious. But for this specific reason, he wanted to pray to God that he could wake up in the morning with ease. Without sweating, being tormented with fear, and being reminded of his guilt.
“That damn dream just keeps repeating.”
Shaun awkwardly stilled due to Florian’s sudden grunt, wondering what kind of dream he had that made him wake up sweating and pale—as though someone had just seen a ghost. And it wasn’t even the first time. I guess I should tell him something good to boost his spirits.
“Your Highness, the Queen Consort invites you to breakfast in the pavilion.” Finished with his words, Shaun did not get the impression he expected. Instead, terror stabbed his heart as he saw Florian’s frown darken.
Well, I shouldn’t have told him anything.
Yes, Shaun. You shouldn’t have said anything.
Florian, of course, listened to Shaun’s horrid news despite his great reluctance. Later on, however, he did not know whether he should be glad or not because Queen Consort herself left the pavilion as Charles and the twins strangely came to the pavilion to have their breakfast there.
During the meal, they surprisingly talked quite a lot about matters in school: explaining and warning Florian about the academy. And yes, of course, Lucas still taunted Florian whenever he had the chance. Lucas and Charles even said, “See you later, little brother,” before leaving the dining room first—which gave Florian the goosebump to imagine seeing them at school. But glad he was, for Liam was rather quieter than the two menaces. And Liam seemed to have a very good appetite, too. Just how many eggs and pieces of bread has he eaten? Florian was a bit terrified by Liam’s appetite.
Of course, Florian would try his best not to encounter Lucas and Charles in the academy later. Because—
Why would I? I'll try my best to avoid those two menaces.
Florian had learned about Charles and the twins from Cyrus, and it made him quite understand why the Queen Consort forced him to choose Cyrus’ side because, apparently, the twins were on Charles’ side. And both Charles and the twin’s mothers were also from powerful council families. Therefore, with the fact that Florian’s guardian was the second most respectful and powerful House in the kingdom—and was even called the shadow of House Frankland—it was reasonable enough for Florian to get such a vicious threat from the Queen Consort in order to choose her only son’s side.
But still—was it even okay to threaten a twelve-year-old boy who knew nothing about politics?
In his honesty, Florian did not want to interfere in their matter regarding political power because he thought that Cyrus was more worthy of being the crown prince. Not only was Cyrus a year older—more precisely, only eight months older—he was better in most aspects: Cyrus had a wise and mature personality; his intelligence was no doubt; and about strength… Florian wasn’t sure about that yet, but did it even matter? Though he didn’t know much about Charles, he could tell just by judging Charles’ demeanor that looked like a delinquent boy who loved to plague someone. And Florian was one of the victims.
Florian was already nervous about waiting for Charles to ask him for sword fighting practice.
He won’t kill me during our spar, right?
“You look rather woeful,” Vxon commented on Florian’s features before devouring a whole scone blanketed with jam and cream into his mouth.
Florian glowered at him, but someone else answered on his behalf.
“Say, we all do, except you,” Morten scowled, then took a big bite of his mince pie while frowning at Vxon.
Vxon held back a grimace and gulped his food. “Oh, do blame me for your indolence.” He set his jaw with a click. “Besides, I have warned you two yesterday that Professor Reynolds loves asking questions and reducing your mark if you cannot answer them, didn’t I?”
Florian and Morten went silent and adverted their eyes, having nothing to defend themselves.
“Just, how can you not know what vafum ginger is?” Vxon continued and sighed sharply. “It’s one of the most basic of basic ingredients.” He shook his head, then wiped his hand with a napkin.
Silence still lingered around Florian and Morten. They did hear Vxon tell them about the teacher of Herbology and Potion class, Professor Reynolds, yet neither of them seemed to read the book the other day. Therefore, Morten and Florian got a minus score for not being able to answer any of the questions.
Vxon, on the other hand, had been acting arrogant after Herbology and Potions class—of course, with a valid reason: he had easily answered every question without difficulty, as though the book about herbs and potion-making had fused into his brain. Well, he was from the House Malcolm—the country's largest business owner in Potions and Herbs—and had been interested in potions and herbs since he was young, not only because of his family.
“Whatever—it happened,” snapped Florian, pushing his empty lunch tray. “And how about the next class? Tell me something about the teacher so there is something I can anticipate.” He eyed Morten and Vxon solemnly but received distorted expressions instead.
Don’t tell me her class would be worse than Professor Morrisey's?!
The second class on Tuesday was Sorcery Arts: Mane to Mediocris stage.
***
The irregular reflection of his face was in the glass on his table, and Florian stared at it for some moment, frowning.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“What are we going to do with this glass?”
“Say, certainly not to drink because based on my secret intel, Professor Rochette’s class is known for being the strictest in the academy. If you can’t answer any of her questions or fail at your magic, you’ll be hit or have your ear pinched,” Morten answered in his serious sort of tone.
Florian slightly winced, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t have to be that specific.”
“She won’t be that scary if you have studied the other day and are good at magic,” Vxon chimed in in a sneering tone.
“That scary? Is there any certain level of eeriness about her?” Florian asked, rolling his eyes.
“Based on my secret intel—yes.” Morten nodded, and Florian and Vxon made a face at his answer.
Vxon shrugged and glanced at his seatmate. “Well, my brother said so—among all the professors teaching in the Sorcery division, he told me that we need to be careful of this scary professor.”
Florian squinted at Vxon. “Okay—got it. But, again, why glass?”
“Maybe Professor Rochette will share some Pop drinks before starting the class?” Vxon quipped, smirking.
“And I’d love the grape flavor one,” Morten supplied and lifted his glass gracefully.
Florian snorted. “Oh, too bad. I’d love it more if it's iced tea or something.” ThenVxon and Morten snickered at his answer.
Amidst this unserious and misguided conversation, someone justified.
“Today’s lesson is levitation, annihilation, and repairing magic. Glass is our first material,” said Xiulan as she turned back to Florian’s table. “Haven’t you guys read your book?”
Florian averted his gaze, faking a cough. “I was busy last night.”
“I read books, but it’s about herbs,” Vxon said, glancing around when Xiulan narrowed her eyes at him.
Morten raised his shoulders and slightly shook his head. “Do not question my reason, guys,” he said as the three turned at him simultaneously.
Xiulan cast them a stoic face, shaking her head in the process.
“But why glass, though?” Florian leaned back and folded his arms. “Of so many materials we can use, why do we use glass that has the highest chance of hurting us?” Why not paper? Fabric? Or feathers? Something safer?
“Heh, are you afraid?” asked Vxon, tossing him a dismissive gaze and a crooked smile.
Florian scoffed at Vxon’s question. “Rather, I’m afraid I will injure someone if I cannot control my magic.”
“You won’t get hurt—no one will,” Xiulan huffed and flipped Florian’s book, Sorcery Arts: Mane to Mediocris Stage by António M. Cerqueira, Loban D. Dmitrievna, and Giffrey A. Silkwood, to a specific page. “Annihilation magic is divided into two kinds: one is explosive, and the other is periodic—of which today is the lesson. Besides, I think Professor Rochette will focus more on teaching about levitation magic today.”
Florian was about to read more of the content, but something distracted him: A medium-sized beast just flew and landed at Florian’s table, then blinked a couple of times as it studied him. It had soft scarlet fur that invited you to pet it, red leather wings that strangely flew him despite being smaller than its body, two curved red horns, and a cute short tail. It was no longer than fifty centimeters, quite chubby, and utterly adorable.
A red fur ball. Florian had a sudden urge to pet this adorable creature that purred and observed him curiously.
“Oh my god—it’s Teda! One of the rarest magical beasts from Mirad!” Xiulan exclaimed, excitement clear in her voice and face. She even jerked her head to look towards the door, guessing if any of the upperclassmen let their beast roam in the first year’s class.
“Who could have summoned such a rare beast!” Morten followed Xiulan to look for, presumably, a passing upperclassman.
“It’s so… adorable,” voiced Vxon, his grey eyes sparkled. Hesitating, he held out a hand to reach the beast but was stopped by the beast saying, “Put your hand down, Mr. Malcolm!”
Yes, that magical beast just spoke in a human voice.
Everyone halted. Eyes grew wide. Jaws dropping. And the class just lapsed into silence. Only surprised and curious gazes then simultaneously fell upon Florian’s table.
“Are magical beasts…supposed to talk like humans?”
Florian’s voice entered the silence. But his question was only to make sure he wasn’t the only one who heard the beast speak like a human.
“Of course not, Mr. Prince!” snapped the beast, and then a dense greenish mist roared from the beast, enlarging its figure. Something seemed to be detached from the beast’s body, and it slowly took the form of a human, and yet, the beast was still on the table—just slightly shrunk.
“I’m delighted to have another prince in my class,” a new voice echoed as the mist slowly subsided.
Florian narrowed his focus. “Thank you,” he replied, dubious, then Rochette’s figure was finally clear from the mist. They just shared a glance for two seconds long before Rochette twisted around and clapped her hands once.
“Aight—afternoon class!” Professor Rochette reverberated the class with her deep and hoarse voice, and her Teda flew to follow her approaching the front class. Then she flicked her flaming robe that matched the color of her hair as she swirled. Her fierce light-brown eyes scanned all the students. “I believe you all have learned to create Mane-stage magic circle, have you not?”
The students forced a “Yes” in response.
Not only was the professor’s voice rather eerie, but her usual face also looked like she was angry. Her thick brows furrowed, as if she looked displeased seeing you. Her sharp light-brown eyes were so fierce as they fell into yours. And the corners of her lips naturally curled down. Better not to mention, the wrinkles on her face made her look even scarier.
“Page four, second paragraph,” Rochette pointed out, “levitation magic centralizes the Mana through the air in order to withhold the object. The better your control with Mana, the steadier the object you levitate. So now, young sorcerers, with our first object: glass, you shall read the runes spell and begin to levitate the glass!”
Sorcerers sent their Mana analogously to create a magic circle. And magic circle was divided into four stages: Mane, Mediocris, Magnus, and Grandis. The four stages of magic circles were different in size, strength, and function, and they were formed and determined by the mind, based on the difficulty level and the type of magic to be used. It required great control and concentration to keep the magic circle steady.
Mana core might be located in the middle part of your body, but the absolute controller of Mana was brainpower. While hands were medium to cast magic.
Every matter in the world had a form of Mana and was symbolized by runes.
Vxon inwardly spoke the runes spell of the mane-stage Levitation magic. Mane, he voiced silently, and a mane-stage magic circle was created, then the spells: Aer, Vapor, Aerosol. After that, the three runes inscribed on his mane-stage magic circle, and the glass began to tremble. He strengthened his concentration to stabilize his magic and lifted his magic circle, and so—the glass flew up.
“Oh, excellent, Mr. Malcolm!”
Receiving a compliment from the professor, Vxon seamlessly formed a cocky smile, and it was for Florian who had yet to try.
“See? It’s easy,” Vxon said.
Florian dramatically rolled his eyes in response.
“Everyone—concentrate and focus! Sorcery requires focus! Everything is centered from your mind—you must have a strong determination, so focus and lift the object!”
The other students still tried their best to control their magic circle steadily, and only a few were able to successfully perform the magic.
After observing the others, levitation magic didn’t seem to be that complicated. Florian relaxed his shoulders and drew a long breath before creating a magic circle. It would be easy since it’s only mane-stage magic…right? Despite his hesitation, he began creating the magic circle, with the runes inscribed on it very slowly.
But suddenly, a screen appeared before him, stopping his magic circle.
[The system is processing to acquire [Skill – levitation] 15%]
[Class effect: Accelerates learning and application of new skill by 10%]
[25%]
[55%]
[85%]
[100%]
His magic circle disappeared, but—
[Congrats! New skill acquired: Skill – levitation lv.1]
[+15% XP]
It took him less than thirty seconds to acquire a new skill.
A wicked smile smoothly twisted his lips. With no magic circle being created and using only his [Levitation] skill, the glass floated through the air effortlessly. Florian let out a low, triumphant giggle in the process. He couldn't help it.
“Where is your magic circle?” Vxon furrowed his brows, his eyes filled with suspicion and surprise.
“Umm…” Florian hastily lowered the glass, fiddling his mind to find something for an answer, then began to think hiding the fact that he could use magic without creating a magic circle was difficult. What should I answer?
“Mr. Frankland…”
Worse, Rochette seemed to notice. She already wore that suspicious sort of expression while approaching Florian’s table.
“Have you been able to make your magic circle invisible?”
Florian was flabbergasted as he looked up at Professor Rochette. Making the magic circle invisible is a thing? He questioned in his mind.
“No way,” mouthed Morten as he turned back to Florian’s table, awestruck.
But Morten wasn’t the only one who was shocked and amazed.
The other students naturally brought their attention to Florian as well, and Florian felt a bit overwhelmed by all the attention.
Then again, creating an invisible magic circle was not easy, even for a Grand rank. In fact, it’s almost impossible. After all, it was rather unnecessary to make the magic circle invisible and required great control in creating the invisible magic circle.
“You shall do a levitation magic once again, Mr. Frankland,” Professor Rochette demanded, folding her arms on her chest.
Hiding his nervousness, Florian decided to create the magic circle, but a screen appeared on his face instead, stopping his magic circle that was about to appear. And his frown worsened.
[The system finds it ineffective to use a method that detains and strains the player’s Mana.]
Huh? Well, whatever, then! Florian clicked his tongue and quickly cast [Levitation].
Small gasps echoed in the class as the glass floated through the air without effort or a magic circle.
“I am used to making my magic circle invisible, Professor,” Florian stated seamlessly, feigning calm. But what’s so special about making a magic circle invisible?
Rochette held back an amazement look, her eyes full of interest. “Are you sure you are a Mugler III rank?” Her brows raised. “Ought to visit Magic Institute to double-check your mana core. I believe Opassar would be delighted to see you again,” she said with a small chuckle and turned around, heading back to the front of the class.
In the next two hours, Florian acquired two new skills and a decent amount of experience points. In short, he boosted his stats.
He felt delighted.
----------------------------------------
“Say, I can guess news of your greatness will spread throughout the academy in no time!” exclaimed Morten in a whisper.
Florian scowled at Morten’s exclamation. “Will this be exaggerated by the Daily Dispatch, especially that jerk Witty Budgerigar?”
Vxon inhaled sharply, looking confused by Florian’s statement. “Why the witty budgerigar of all reporters?”
Florian raised his brows and blinked, glancing at Vxon. “Well, the last time that reporter wrote something about me, they wrote literal nonsense, and everything was exaggerated. I am rather afraid that they would write another nonsense about me.”
“As far as I know, the witty budgerigar is a well-known reporter who only writes decent news,” Vxon explained, and then shrugged as he continued, “Well…among nobles—they are also known as a money-grubber reporter.”
“You mean they would write indecent news if someone paid them?” Xiulan sparked a question, and Vxon nodded and quickly averted his eyes from her.
Florian’s frown worsened as he mulled over something in his head, but something soon interrupted.
“Psst! I think Thomas just entered the office!” Morten beckoned the others who forgot to lower their voices.
They were at the back garden connected to the vice headmaster’s office, hiding in the bushes while crouching next to each other so the school gardeners, especially Mr. Hobart, couldn’t see them because the garden was close to Tebris Lake. They could be food for Mr. Hobart’s beloved swamp sharks if they got caught by him. Thomas, meanwhile, was forced to go on a mission by entering the office to deliver some parchments the student council from the fourth year was supposed to deliver. And that student council happened to be Vxon’s brother, Vincent Malcolm.
It was Morten’s idea to sneak into Professor Silkwood’s office in order to use the Maneuxler to have Florian recheck his mana core. He was keenly curious and assumed that Florian had secretly hidden his true power. Besides, after Professor Rochette’s class, no one believed Florian was at Mugler III rank.
At first, Florian was against the idea, but eventually, he agreed as the others—actually only Xiulan, but Vxon somehow volunteered to join—wanted to recheck their mana core, too. For them (not royalty like Florian), checking the mana core in the Magic Institute required an appointment usually made at least a week in advance.
Last time, I did not lock my dark Mana first. And Florian strongly opposed meeting Opassar again.
“Is he okay?” Florian asked, raising his head to peek into the office through the huge window separating them. His red hair glistened golden by the sun, which was rather flashy among the bushes.
“He looks as though he just saw a ghost, though,” commented Morten, narrowing his focus.
“Doesn’t he always look like one?” Florian jested, half laughing.
Then a small groan came from Vxon, whose hand was slightly scratched by thorns.
“I honestly oppose this plan—I shouldn’t have come as well,” Vxon groaned and winced, trying to hold the numbness in his legs as well.
“But you are here now,” Florian countered, giving Vxon an intense sideways look. "Even if we got caught while you were not in, you’ve got your hands dirty by helping Thomas get that parchment.”
Vxon drew in a reckoning sigh as he stared at Florian, who had such a villainous aura as though he was used to doing such a thing.
Xiulan rolled her eyes. “I, too, wouldn’t join this silly idea if I didn’t want to recheck my mana core again.”
Vxon held back his marvel. “You are the only Mugler I in the class—do you want to mock the others by being a Moyner by yourself?” He glanced at Xiulan, who was next to him, then accidentally caught her smile. She has dimples! Nervous, Vxon hastily slid his eyes away.
“Well, the last time I checked my Mana was eight months ago in Irnakalshi. I just wonder if my Mana has grown since I practice in the dorm quite often. It would be good if I reach Moyner rank.”
Not only was she the smartest in the circle, but she also seemed to be at the highest rank as well.
“Oh, Thomas is heading here!" interrupted Morten, followed by a clicking sound from the large window as Thomas opened it with all power.
The others joined Thomas in opening the window from outside because it was so heavy.
“All clear?” asked Morten, and Thomas nodded nervously.
“The teachers seem to be away too at this moment, so I will stay near the door just in case,” answered Thomas in his usual nervous tone, low and choppy.
“Say, I guessed it right,” returned Morten with a crooked smile as he glanced at his friends. “Nearly all the professors and our division head are discussing the upcoming Primfaclum, so we're safe—for now,” he uttered and entered the office first through the small gap of the slightly open window.
“Good job, Thomas.” Florian patted Thomas on the shoulder once, then entered the office after Morten.
“I shall help you with your homework next time.” Xiulan winked at Thomas, glided effortlessly into the office with her slim body, and did not forget to adjust her neat bangs afterward.
“I—I will help you in potion class next time, Thomas.” Vxon also complimented the fidgety Thomas. It would just feel weird if he didn’t.
And after they were already in, a moment of silence ensued in the office as everyone had their minds blank in amazement.
“Woah,” harmonized everyone, with their eyes thoroughly scanning the office's interior. A butterfly could easily enter their open mouths.
“Looks more like a museum than an office,” remarked Florian, nearly forgetting his main purpose.
Professor Silkwood’s office was far from fascinating. It was a large pentagon room, crowded with various magic tools, from ancient to newest, artifacts, small figurines, maps covered with glass, and a few instruments—oh, and a few collections of pipe smoke. The walls were covered with bookshelves, paintings—which were most likely the previous Heads of the Sorcery Division—hanging magic tools, and even some winged beast skeletons. In the middle of the office, there was a huge magic tool nearly as tall as Florian, but they could not quite tell what it was.
“How could a place like this be so easy to break into?” Vxon’s voice sounded restless. “There’s no charm in here that can get us caught, right?”
“Do you think I suggest this idea without knowing that?” Morten returned the question in a triumphant tone. “I have heard from one of our seniors—the only way not to get caught is not to touch anything here.”
Xiulan gasped out in amazement. “Clever—so basically, no one could steal all this stuff,” she commented, her eyes thoroughly scanning the surroundings.
Florian furrowed his brows at that statement. “Then how are we going to use the Maneuxler?”
“We don’t have to touch Maneuxler when using it,” replied Xiulan with a grin, her white teeth nearly matching her fair skin. “Besides, Maneuxler is the only magic tool that cannot be cast with any spell.”
“Okay—so, any idea where could it be?” Florian asked heedlessly, craning his neck to glance over the magic tools that could be hundreds. The office was more like a shop of magic tools, honestly.
Morten let out a low groan, folding his lips inside his mouth.
Vxon peered over at Morten, feeling somewhat odd because it was unusual for Morten to be this restless. “What is it?”
Morten swallowed hard. “You see…there is something I forgot to tell you guys,” he muttered, looking away as Florian shot him a scary look. “Remember the last Primfaclum two years ago? The news about Professor Silkwood receiving a gift from the Emperor of Valavega? One of them was a very rare and unique and incredible Maneuxler.”
Everyone, including Thomas, who stood near the door, could hear his explanation but chose to stay silent. How could they know something specific about such a matter? Significantly for Florian, who grew up in Varaklich. But it also made them somewhat amazed with Morten’s knowledge of unnecessarily important matters.
“But—" Morten halted and sighed nervously.
To which Xiulan replied, “Don’t tell me if the Maneuxler is the pacto type?” And she swatted Morten on the elbow.
With great reluctance, Morten forced a nod. Vxon clicked his tongue audibly and looked away, both hands on his waists.
“And what does ‘the pacto type’ mean?” Florian didn’t hesitate to ask, utterly wonder.
Xiulan sighed as she approached one beast skeleton that she guessed was a Nispha. “It means the Maneuxler is no bigger than your fist.” Gripe was evident in her voice. And everyone could tell why her voice sounded so.
Florian held back a sigh and looked around the office once again. Amongst this crowded stuff, a fist-sized orb was placed. Somewhere. Hiding. Buried.
It’s not really necessary to recheck my Mana, but we can’t just retreat without trying first. It would be such a waste.
Florian sighed a long, unwavering breath and turned to his friends.
“Ten minutes,” he finally spoke, “We search for the Maneuxler without touching anything during that time. And if we cannot find it, just forget it and leave.” After seeing his friends nod in unison, he then added, “No retreating before trying.”