At the last minute, I changed my mind and sat across the desk from Maya. Teasing her was undeniably fun, but there's a limit to everything. Recently, she had appeared more exhausted than me, and who knew how strained her nerves were by now. Struggling to keep a straight face, which was a challenge as a smile kept threatening to spread across my face, I sat down, maintaining an indifferent expression, as if I was utterly unconcerned with Maya's reaction to my arrival.
The rest of the room's occupants were, to say the least, taken aback by Maya's behavior. Everyone turned to watch as she quietly cursed and banged her head against the desk. This gave me an opportunity to survey the students in the room.
Six people were present, including Maya and me. I had come across each of them at least once during the past two weeks. We hadn't been formally introduced, but I had encountered them during various lectures or exams. There were three young men around my age, a redhead girl, Maya, and me.
Seated at the first desk in the left row was a tall, lanky, almost sickly thin guy with massive glasses that seemed to cover a third of his gaunt face. His badge identified him as a member of the Radio Electronics Faculty, and his name was Jan Larson. Most likely a descendant of Scandinavian settlers, I had seen him three times but couldn't really say much about him. He was quiet and always seemed lost in thought.
Across the desk from him sat another guy in the same row. He was also thin, but not tall. The first thing you notice about him is his unruly mop of pitch-black, slightly curly hair that was reminiscent of a bird's nest after a storm. His name was Christian Rizzo from my Robotics faculty. I had seen him far more frequently than Jan, but we hadn't formally met or even exchanged a word. The only thing I remembered about him was that he had submitted his entrance test right after Maya. He was a sharp guy with keen eyes.
The last guy in the front row was another freshman from the Radio Electronics faculty, Michael Shchegay. He was of average height, had round cheeks, and was slightly plump, like me - a half-blood, except his Eastern roots were more pronounced. His slightly slanted dark brown eyes amusingly clashed with his light blond hair. Out of everyone, I had run into him the most. Unlike the others, he preferred studying alone outdoors and was often seen sitting in front of the dorm with his textbook. He was a quiet guy; I had never seen him engage in conversation with anyone.
The only other female in the audience besides Maya was Claire Ailek. Her badge indicated she was from the Faculty of Energy. She was slightly below average in height, thin, but her thinness wasn't sickly, rather it was natural. Her face had a minor asymmetry, but it didn't detract from her appearance; instead, it added a unique charm. She could even be considered beautiful, although she didn't match Maya's looks. There was something elusive about her, something that drew sympathy. And despite her thinness, she had a remarkable figure. Claire's vivid red hair was pulled back into two ponytails that amusingly stuck out. This detail made her seem more like a middle school girl than a student, which humorously contrasted with the third-year Theory of Mechanics book she was holding.
My Spark was silent, but I could confidently say that none of those present were shapeshifters.
The students' reactions to Maya's behavior varied. Michael sat with his mouth agape. Christian attempted to conceal his interest, but it was betrayed by a slight tilt of his head and wide eyes. Jan, on the outside, appeared completely unfazed. On the other hand, Claire was looking at the Knight girl with what seemed to be a barely noticeable hint of sympathy and was glancing slightly in my direction with a mild note of displeasure.
I waved at everyone. Jan and Michael waved back. Christian snorted as he cast a disdainful glance at my robot t-shirt. Claire tilted her head, causing her ponytails to wiggle, and then she simply nodded, comically pouting her lips as if she couldn't decide how to react to me.
Eventually, Maya regained her composure, lifted her head from the desk, and sat up straight, pretending as if I didn't exist. The others immediately looked away as if they hadn't seen anything. It was the appropriate reaction of ordinary people to the odd behavior of a noble. And I shouldn't forget that in her civilian guise, Maya, being an open raig, is a girded knight; meaning, she belongs to the upper class. I wonder, if I push too far and cause her to lose her composure, will she challenge me to a duel, like she did to that perverse student? As far as I know, it won't come to that, but it's better not to tempt fate, so from now on, I must be more cautious and avoid provoking her so blatantly.
Due to my run-in with the Japanese shapeshifter on the trail, I ended up being the last one to arrive, with less than two minutes to spare before the lesson was due to start.
There was something odd about this situation. Normally, I attend lectures meant for other years, quietly sitting in a corner, listening, and jotting down notes. However, today was different. It's the first time I've been in a classroom with so many first-year students, and it seemed like we six were the only ones enrolled. On top of that, there was an unusual pass system at the entrance to the building. But there was no point in dwelling on this. Everything would become clear soon enough.
Without turning my head, I stealthily observed Maya. She sat up straight, smoothing the folds of her skirt over her knees in a fluid motion before placing her hands on the table. Then she inhaled deeply, seemingly making up her mind about something, turned towards me, and began to drill me with a heavy gaze. Her stare was so intense it felt like it could burn a hole through me. I realized I might have gone a bit too far in provoking her. I should have taken a seat in the second row, closer to Claire.
Maya opened her mouth, apparently intending to address me, but was interrupted. The classroom door opened with a soft rustle, instantly diverting her attention to the entrance. The lecturer walked in briskly, and we all promptly stood up in respect, as was customary here.
The teacher, seemingly lost in thought, walked to the blackboard, picked up a piece of chalk, held it for about three seconds, and then put it back down. He shook his head, walked over to the lectern, and only after he was behind it did he raise his eyes to us. He examined the students for about a third of a minute before gesturing for us to sit down.
He was an unusual sight for a lecturer. First off, he looked remarkably young, almost in his early twenties at first glance, but this was likely deceptive. He probably was much older; his youthful appearance was just misleading. A friendly, open face with strikingly well-defined features. He was of average height, well-built, and agile, giving off an impression of a flexible willow branch. Or perhaps a predatory animal on the prowl.
The second detail that set him apart from other lecturers was his attire. He was dressed simply in light linen trousers and a light grey short-sleeved shirt. There was no suit or other signs of formality. But this outward simplicity concealed more than it initially revealed. In my past life, expensive suits and flashy accessories were worn by those who needed to assert their status or make a statement. But there was a small group of wealthy and influential individuals who couldn't care less about these external displays of success. These are the people who can show up to a formal event in shorts and flip-flops, and no one bats an eye because "they can afford to do so." The young lecturer standing behind the lectern evidently belonged to such people. Or more accurately, to such shapeshifters.
Nothing about the final detail was peculiar - nearly a third of the university's teaching staff were shapeshifters. And at the military department, almost every lecturer was a shapeshifter. However, what was odd was the chevron on the young lecturer's shirt pocket, signifying that he was a graduate of the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics. The nobility rarely pursued such scientific fields, often favoring management, economics, and military affairs. Though, of course, there were always exceptions to this rule.
"Obviously, I have a knack for rhetoric," the lecturer raised his eyes to the ceiling as if speaking to himself. "And naturally, I have a well-structured lecture plan." He gestured to the thin folder brimming with papers on the podium as evidence of his words. The lecturer then lowered his gaze, sweeping it across each of us in the room. "Good morning, young people. No need to stand. Let me introduce myself first, I am Gabriel Mustiel, Count of Runar."
After this introduction, I noticed how the backs of those seated in front of me stiffened, while Maya twitched, involuntarily straightening her posture. According to Izao's recollection, Mustiel is a prominent name in Novilter. A small, yet noble and influential family, a side branch of the Wolverines. If my knowledge serves me correct, the great-nephew of the ruling duke now stood at the podium. More than just an aristocrat, he was a representative of the highest noble echelon.
Or...
Or was it all just a facade? Recalling Nicholas's words when he rambled about the Great Plan of Eshin while leading me to slaughter, the person at the podium might not be the great-nephew but the second, youngest son of the ruling duke, who hides his true identity. Officially, the old duke only has one son, who currently rules Novilter. The existence of the second son is known to only a few. A peculiar manifestation of the ruling house's paranoia, the second-oldest heir is kept hidden from potential threats. Such "games" seem excessive to me, but perhaps there are reasons beyond my comprehension for these peculiar security measures.
"Count..." In the meantime, the lecturer continued. I felt he had noted the students' reaction and was not particularly pleased. "To me, it's not about our birthright, but who we become. So let me introduce myself again. Gabriel Mustiel, Associate Professor of the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics, Doctor of Astrophysical Sciences."
A doctor of astrophysics? At his age? Even considering his background and superior education, this was, to put it mildly, impressive.
"Today, there won't be a lecture in the conventional sense. Instead, we'll have a conversation. An introduction. And no, it's not about introducing you to me. That's unnecessary. Rather, I will be introducing myself. I should mention right away that I am to blame for the numerous tests you've recently taken." He didn't seem the least bit regretful about this "blame." "The rector made a concession and allowed me to take advantage of the university's initial flurry to conduct a sort of selection amongst students." He paused, scrutinizing us once more, then nodded and continued. "As you can tell, not everyone passed this selection. Correct... only the six of you. And only you six will receive an offer at the end of this class that you can either accept or refuse. I assure you there won't be any penalties or signs of my displeasure if you choose to refuse. But that will come later. First, I want to discuss the future. Not your personal future or mine, but the future in a broader sense... Izao Vaillant." His gaze fixated on me, and I swiftly stood up, as local etiquette dictated. "Answer this, where do you envision the future of mankind?"
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
'Where, where? In the rear!!!' The thought flashed through my mind. Considering my awareness of the impending End, it was, surprisingly, a reasonable idea. Yet, naturally, I kept this to myself. Instead, my gaze roved over the audience, lingering on the posters adorning the walls.
"Given that you said 'where I envision the future' and not 'how I foresee it'..." I began to answer the question, trying to mask my anxiety. "And considering your choice of an astronomy assembly for this lecture, I deduce..."
"Pleasant to see you're capable of logical thinking and observation." The lecturer interrupted. "However, I asked for your personal viewpoint, not conclusions derived from observation. So, Izao Vaillant, what's your answer?"
"I concur with you, sir." I nodded, attempting to meet the stern gaze of the youthful instructor. "The future of mankind lies there..." My palm gestured towards the posters.
"In space?"
"In the Universe."
"An intriguing distinction." The teacher's gaze sharpened, becoming even more scrutinizing. "Elucidate."
"Earth is but a cradle, and one cannot reside in a cradle forever." I quoted Tsiolkovsky, a man not born of this world, managing to hold his gaze.
"Such a profound statement. Who said it?" The astrophysics professor appeared genuinely surprised, clearly not expecting such words from a recent high school graduate.
"I did, just now." I had no other truthful response.
"Fascinating." The young lecturer drawled, his gaze still fixed on me. "By any chance, is Melanie Vaillant related to you?"
"She's my mother." How did he know Izao's mother?
"Ah!" He smiled as if he had found the answer for himself. "That explains the poetic metaphors. I must say, it's a very vivid comparison. The Earth as a cradle... I'll remember that. And no, I don't know your mother, but I attended a couple of her cultural studies lectures. It appears you've inherited her talent for articulating thoughts in vibrant images. You may sit down." As soon as I returned to my seat, he continued. "Who else here shares this view?"
All the guys raised their hands with little to no thought, but Claire and Maya remained seated.
"Maya Grimm," Gabriel Mustiel swiftly directed his attention to her. "What's your response?" There wasn't an explicit distinction in the local language between casual and polite forms of address, but the tonal shift was unmistakable. His polite tone towards Maya was immediately noticeable. Likely, this was a display of class etiquette, given her status as a knight.
Maya rose from her seat.
"I beg your pardon. I hadn't given this question much thought," she said, her voice devoid of challenge, only fatigue seeping through. "I just didn't have the time," she added by way of explanation.
"Well, think now," the lecturer responded with a warm, inviting smile. "We'll wait."
Maya seemed to take the task seriously, pondering for almost a minute. Then, she glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on me for a moment, before speaking in a quiet voice.
"I see no future for humanity..."
"Hmm..." The answer seemed to take not just me, but also the lecturer by surprise. Despite his excellent poker face, his smile faded at her words. "As a Break Knight, do you know something that's not available to the rest of us?" Gabriel asked for clarification.
"Ah? What?" Maya seemed taken aback. "I beg your pardon; I didn't mean to imply that. No, it's just a personal opinion. The future, the past... For me, the present is far more important. That's all I meant."
"I see. You may sit," the Count of Runar dismissed her, likely mentally crossing her off the list of those who might support his proposal.
The lecturer's gaze grew noticeably weightier as he shifted it to the second girl in the audience.
"Claire Ailek, you didn't raise your hand either - does that mean you disagree with Izao's words?"
The redhead sprang up from her chair.
"I'm more interested in my own future and that of the people close to me, not humanity as a whole," she declared with a childlike pout, then continued, "I like tough challenges and thrilling tasks, not abstract musings. I guess I'm more grounded than Izao." She gestured towards me as she spoke.
"You're fourth in the university based on test scores, and among those present here, only Maya Grimm and Izao rank higher," the lecturer noted. At his words, all the boys turned to the girl with the playful ponytails, their expressions varying from mild surprise to a touch of envy. "So, you're right about liking tough challenges. Well, I've heard you. You may sit."
I couldn't guess what plan the young lecturer had for this conversation, but it seemed to have just fallen apart, and he lapsed into thought. Not for long, though. He then descended from the podium, approached the front row, and perched on the edge of a desk.
"Space..."
Gabriel was a skilled orator, and his words now flowed like a captivating melody. His speech was hypnotic. The Count was evidently passionate about extraterrestrial life. He was literally ablaze with the topic, and his enthusiasm was infectious. The shapeshifter scientist spoke about his vision for the future and how it clashed with the current stagnation in the space industry. Not just in Novilter, but globally.
Actually, I am in complete agreement with him on this matter. In this regard, this world is noticeably behind my Earth. Here, no one has flown to the moon or sent research stations to distant planets. They lack anything resembling the Hubble Space Telescope or the International Space Station. I am confident that even I, with my limited knowledge, understand more about astrophysics than the young scientist perched on the edge of the table. The four months that my film crew and I spent in the Andes, more specifically at the Paranal Observatory, were not futile. At that time, I learned a great deal about dark matter, intergalactic gas, supermassive black holes, theories of a flat, convex, or concave universe, and so forth.
The Count spoke for over half an hour, intermittently posing questions to sustain engagement and invite the students into the conversation. Then, just as it was reaching the most thrilling part of the tale, he paused. His eyes ignited with a steely determination, and without warning, Gabriel veered onto a different topic.
"Three months ago, we concluded our geological survey on the Moise Peninsula." My memory provided that this peninsula, resting within the boundaries of Novilter, extended far into the ocean in a narrow arc, reaching to the equator. "Soon, construction will commence on a new launch pad there. It will be expansive enough to accommodate the takeoff of heavy rockets. Yes, you heard correctly - a decision has been made at the highest level: Novilter will be joining the new space race. Our country is considered to be a significant player in this field; after all, we are responsible for almost a quarter of communication satellite launches. However, since France established a spaceport in its colony on the Kourou, we are at risk of falling far behind. Possibly irretrievably so... The new complex is intended to prevent this from happening. France has elevated the space race to a new level. They aim to land a man on the moon within fifteen years..." The Count grimaced as he pronounced these words. "The Duke believes we should be the first to accomplish this. It's the only path forward for us."
Novilter and France may not be overt enemies, but if my understanding of history serves me right, their relations haven't always been amicable. The Ducal family of Gluathon established Novilter after their expulsion from French lands and the loss of all their possessions. Naturally, centuries have passed since then, but the House on the Hill has never forgotten the affront committed against their family. Presumably, if the French in this world are the first to land on the moon, the duke would consider it a personal insult.
"I have been appointed as the Scientific Director of the project," Gabriel announced. It's only in a class-based society that such a young man could be assigned to such a position. But is it really so bad? Now as I observe this Gabriel, against all logic, I find myself believing that he will not only manage but excel at his duties. "This new global project will require more than just a substantial budget or immense production and scientific resources. Above all, it needs people... People who can breathe life into it. Those who can face unprecedented challenges and solve problems no one has ever encountered before." He cast a stern look over all of us. "Of course, we have excellent scientists and engineers. Moreover, we have many bold and promising developments that have been shelved for lack of need. But... This is not enough. I need people who can think outside the box, who can think globally and innovatively... I need my own team of engineers. Not just intelligent and capable, but specifically trained for new tasks. Have you guessed what I am about to propose to you?"
The students were so taken aback that they remained quiet, leaving me to respond.
"I dare say we have," I ventured.
"Izao," the Count replied, seeming a tad surprised that it was I who had responded. It appeared he had expected a response from Claire or Christian, not me. "State your guess."
"You plan to use us as a trial group, testing new teaching methods on us to train future space engineers," I suggested.
"Quite a cynical point of view," Gabriel clicked his tongue. "While you're technically correct in comparing yourselves to guinea pigs, Izao, you've missed the crux of the matter. Yes, an entirely new curriculum will be constructed for those who agree to participate. Officially, you will remain in your faculties, but in reality, you will form a separate group with your own curriculum. The key point you've missed, Izao, is that I need a team, my own team. I have searched extensively for like-minded individuals, to no avail. The only feasible solution that presented itself was this: If you can't find the right people, train them yourself."
"I cannot swear an oath of vassalage to you," Maya responded immediately to the Count's words.
"Oh! No, I don't need vassals," Gabriel shook his head. "I need engineers for a new era. No vassal oaths, no blood pacts." The Count then rose from the table.
"Are we going to build rockets?" Claire asked excitedly.
"No," the young astrophysicist answered immediately. "The military already has the design layout for a heavy seventy-ton rocket that's been collecting dust. They'll be engaged in finalizing it. We'll design satellites, landing and manned modules, lunar rovers and Mars rovers, comet interceptors, solar wind ships..." He seemed to get a little carried away as he listed all this, diving deep into his fantasies. "Ahem. Of course, no matter how talented you young people are, this is beyond the capabilities of such a small team. I want you to become the conductors of my ideas and thoughts in specialized design offices, which are in the process of being formed from old-school engineers. For this, you'll need a special education that will allow you to make the right decisions at the forefront of technical thought. The construction plans indicate that the launch pad and all related infrastructure will be ready in eight years. The military also promise to have a working version of the heavy missile ready by then. Then a couple of years of preparations and test runs, after which we must begin to tackle the main problem. For those of you who agree to my proposal, you will have ten years to prepare. Eight plus two."
In reality, he's inviting us to become not quite engineers as such, but more his personal curators, to take positions under him similar to those held by Tunk and Rock under the heir - positions for us, ordinary people, not shapeshifters. Either Gabriel is too liberal, or he couldn't find those who share his passion among the noble youth, and this proposal of his is a kind of desperate step. He needs people who will share his fervor, not just follow orders. Am I interested in this? Or rather, am I so interested in space? Besides, these plans will most likely remain nothing more than fantasies, since even two years won't pass before...
"Today," the Count's voice interrupted my thoughts. "You won't have any more classes. Each of you has a day to make a decision. Tomorrow at nine in the morning, only those of you who agree should return to this auditorium."
The Count moved towards the door and glanced around; for a moment, I thought his gaze seemed uncertain, but most likely it was just my imagination. Then, before leaving the auditorium, Gabriel Mustiel said only one word:
"Think."