Concerns and incidents

Sienna's cyan hair swung gently as the woman turned a corner. In one hand, she held a small book, tightly clutched between her fingers. In the other, a small twig-like item protruded alongside her wrist, which she quickly rubbed against her robe, cleaning it of any residual dust it'd gathered during the latest lecture she'd given.

'Third years have a good grasp on combat magic.' she mused, thinking back to the lesson she'd just taught. 'Rupert trained them well. It's a shame their theory lacks so much.' she sighed internally, her silver eyes closing for a moment before she turned the corner. Exchanging greeting nods with a few students she passed, she knocked on the nearby door, entering as soon as she heard a familiar voice from the inside.

Immediately closing the door behind her, she turned her attention to the small redhead by the desk.

"Oi, Sinsin," Elaine called out, a short glance sufficing for her before she returned to a small device she had in front of her. Multiple small parts that the taller woman wouldn't be able to decipher the meaning of sat on the wooden surface, their polish gleaming in the sunlight entering the classroom through a nearby window.

"How's it going?" Professor Riven inquired, pulling a chair and sitting across from her friend.

Elaine shrugged, her verdant eyes looking up as she paused her work. "Good. You?"

"I've been alright. I brought you something," she said, a small smile donning her face as she reached under her robe, quickly bringing out a large, red apple.

The Melidan woman's eyes lit up briefly. "Hoh, ye got mah favorite," she chuckled, immediately accepting the gift. Without missing a beat, she got it in her hands, gripping the fruit forcefully. A second or so of a tug later, the apple split with a juicy sound, two roughly equal parts now in each of her hands. "So, what brings ye?" she asked as she returned one half to her friend.

"Well, it just so happens that I now have a free term," Sienna answered almost off-handedly before taking a small bite. She studied Elaine briefly, taking note of the contraption sitting between them. "Thanks to a certain someone, the planner redid the whole schedule (I was just about done memorizing mine, too)," she scowled, giving her friend a slightly displeased look.

Elaine shrugged. "What that look for, Sinsin? Rufus had it comin', ye know that. Should've seen his face when I held him by his balls," Elaine smirked almost daringly.

"Well, I did hear you gave him quite a piece of your mind. I even heard you spoke of Egis."

The Melidan woman flinched. A small trickle of juice flowed down the corner of her mouth before she wiped it. Her eyes dimmed faintly.

"I haven't heard you mention him since Valerian's passing," Sienna's expression softened, seeing her friend's reaction.

"Well, we didn't have a Classless in the Academy since him," Elaine retorted. "Demegar is pissin' me off with his attitude, though. One is no, another is yes. Can you imagine? He gave that Stormrider kid our Academy's founding artifact to classify him. And then, he proceeded to make it look like it wasn't a big deal," she rambled on, her tone growing increasingly irritated and tinged with sarcasm. "Because of course, that's exactly what he did with Treseleer when we all appealed the case, right? Well apparently, background matters all of a sudden."

Sienna sighed. Although she wanted to scold Elaine for the brashness the smaller woman displayed, deep inside her, she did agree with her. Although faint, the memory of old, when the headmaster of the Academy changed and **** their friend out, still stood strong.

"Doesn't help the kid's drawing a parallel."

"?" Sienna's brow raised, confusion painted on her face at Elaine's words.

"Lucas reminds me of Valerian, I mean," the redhead leaned back in her seat slightly. "Made me think just how much time has passed since we four were in their shoes. Fuck, I'll be forty-five next year. Where has the time gone, Sinsin?"

"Well, it's hard to believe we have been teaching here for a while," Sienna admitted, shuffling in her seat and getting her hair from behind her. "I can still recall you bickering with Professor Dulener on our first day."

"Because it's not nothin', miss Schweizer, it's 'nothing'," Elaine suddenly chuckled. "But see? That was twenty-five years ago. Dulener's been smelling flowers from underneath for the last ten. It's been so long since we've graduated. Kind of makes me wonder how Egis is holdin' up. I haven't seen him in over a decade."

A few protracted seconds of silence passed. Sienna looked at the window to her left, watching the distant expanse of the blue sky. The clouds littering the horizon cast long shadows on the ground beneath.

But her mind was not wondering about those. Instead, it was drawing a picture of their third friend.

Egis Treseleer. It was a name that held a stigma among the higher-ups of the Academy. The first Classless to attend the Academy. Appointed by Alberas Suvellain himself, he was recognized for his innate brilliance with alchemy. He and Valerian Stormrider, both a year older than Sienna Riven and Elaine Schweizer, met during their first year and ended up in an unlikely friendship between a Mage from a prodigious family and a Classless orphan from Weydan's poor district.

Sienna and Elaine were introduced to them more than a year later. But, at the thought of how their first meeting went, the cyan-haired woman couldn't help but feel a bit of self-scorn arise in her spirit. The world was a harsh place. The rules of existence dictated that people without a class were inherently inferior to the Classed. She used to believe that, too. And like most, she did her best to ignore Treseleer initially. Truthfully, if it was not for Valerian, she'd have never approached Egis.

But then, when the two men were in their final year, the Academy's headmaster passed away. Alberas Suvellain was quickly replaced by Rufus Demegar, who, like most, cared about status first. That year was the last occasion she'd seen Egis on the Academy's grounds. And even though they tried to maintain some contact afterward, the connection died sooner or later.

"Ye know, I wonder how will Valerian's son hold up," Elaine's voice suddenly brought Sienna out of her introspective mood. "Dory said she likes him. Seems capable to her, and even not too bold."

Professor Riven blinked, quickly processing what she'd just heard.

"I've noticed that about Lucas. He took a lot after Valerian," she smiled gently, reminding herself of the blonde-haired man. "A bit bashful, perhaps, but doesn't stop asking questions."

"Just like his father, eh?"

"Quite a bit," Sienna confirmed. "Sixth anniversary is on Saturday, isn't it?"

The Melidan woman glanced at Sienna better. Scrutinizing her taller friend, the tiny redhead appeared to calculate something, her green eyes shining and dimming.

"Really... gods, I forgot," she shook her head. Her wavy hair shimmered as if caught in a gust of wind. "Damn. Six years. Feels like yesterday that I've last talked to him about that silly hypothetical substance he was so frantic about (Gereval, he called it. His naming sense was always icky to me). That stupid discussion will be stuck in my head till I kick the bucket," Elaine laughed suddenly, her expression turning into a happy smile tinged with faint sombreness.

"We'll have to pay him a visit, no?" she raised a brow.

"So was I thinking. Saturday evening sounds good to you, right?"

"Ya, sounds like a good time," Elaine nodded lightly before fixing her hair and shuffling in her chair, placing her elbows on the desk as she focused on the multiple small elements between the two.

Seconds passing soon turned into minutes, the Mage patiently watching her friend tinker away. Between the motions and minuscule adjustments, their talk continued, its tone lighter by the minute.

However, as they sat in the classroom, a part of Sienna couldn't help but wonder.

How was their old friend doing? Where was he? Did he ever think about them?

-Meanwhile-

'Like ants on an anthill...'

Lucas almost scoffed at the thought, tentatively rubbing his shoulder. However, the sensation of the stares aimed at his back was difficult to rid of even as he focused on the lecture. The sun's rays, entering through an array of windows, showered the room in a brilliant spectacle, illuminating all fifty-odd heads that were his peers. Usually, he'd have entered first and sat in the back rows. However, this time, he was out of luck. What came with that was a constant murmur poking at the back of his ears.

'Frankly, it's no wonder. I stick out like a sore thumb without a class. They could curb their staring, though...'

Focusing a bit more, the young Stormrider used Keen Senses. His hearing almost immediately expanded, picking up scraps of conversations from behind him. Amidst the useless discussions, some parts appeared almost too obvious.

"We're put as equals to a Classless? Academy's standards were supposed to be high..."

"I wonder how did he even get in. Just the theoretical tests are not enough."

"Probably bought his way in. Money's everything if you have enough of it."

Lucas sighed, brushing his white hair gently and canceling the skill. A sore feeling stirred in his spirit, together with a sensation of sweat trickling down his temple. Slowly reaching into his pants pocket, he searched for a handkerchief he'd usually keep.

However, his search came up empty.

'...didn't I pack it...? But those are the same pants I had when meeting Seraphina yesterday...' he frowned. 'Whatever. Nimue probably took it before I got dressed.' Lucas sighed, focusing on the lecture.

The lines on the blackboard converged into numerous small pictograms. Together with a large circle in the middle, they created something he'd seen multiple times: the magic circle. A staple of power to any Mage, it was frequently observed in other classes as well. Lucas focused on the man standing next to the illustrations.

"--for example, Origin Magic," the lean professor's voice entered his ears, its tone low and demanding attention. "is a special case of magic that ignores the restrictions of circles. It's a type of magic that can only be attained by birthright, and its power is directly related to the user's magic power rather than their circle. Now, does anyone know how Origin Magic works compared to regular magic?" he looked upon the students, his dark eyes scrutinizing them hastily.

Deft silence fell upon the room at the question. Lucas could feel the tension on his back alleviate as several students exchanged gazes all around, searching for an answer as though others held it.

Suddenly, the professor brought everyone's attention back to himself with a hearty laugh.

"I see most are confused. That was a trick question," he explained, walking over to the chalkboard. "Truth be told, we do not know exactly how Origin Magic operates. The mechanics of its attainment are also yet unknown to us. Some types of such magic were attained by slaying powerful beings such as dragons or great demons, others were gathered through hermitage or asceticism."

Suddenly, something stirred in Lucas's mind.

'[Not a wrong musing.]' Adlin spoke, his tone tinged with solemnity and reserve reminiscent of an old man. '[But therein lays a lack of fundamental understanding of what magic truly is.]'

'...what?' Lucas instinctively glanced sideways, toward the door to the classroom, right where he could faintly sense the now-familiar presence. The voice in the back of his mind, so far only present and non-verbal, suddenly voiced an opinion. This was far beyond what he expected. 'What do you mean?'

'[Origin Magic is often viewed as a derivative of regular magic, empowered by the strength of ancient beings. But one never does stop to question the so-called rules that govern it. For example, why is Origin Magic only attained through feats transcending the regular? And more importantly, why does it persist beyond the ones that achieved that feat?]'

Lucas closed his eyes for several seconds. The words flowing into his mind felt almost out of place, yet somewhere in him, they sparked something. Almost inadvertently, he summoned the memories he'd seen within Ophelia's mind.

The first one was when she summoned a simple Shock. The magic siphoned from her core, gathered at her fingertips and then formed the magic sigil which shot forth the attack. The same applied for every different spell she'd used.

But things took a different turn when she used Lightning Dragon's Spear. If he were to compare it to Shock, there were obvious similarities and differences.

Despite both spells being of the electric element in nature, their behavior was vastly different. It wasn't just a difference in sheer power; knowing Ophelia's feelings back then, Lucas could easily recognize that her Origin Magic had always been unstable. Despite having trained that power for years, there was still a thin layer of fear and uncertainty below his sister's composed face. That magic was wild, too wild to be tampered with thoughtlessly, and she knew it. That was why there was a tiny, almost detached part of herself that aimed to constantly monitor how the spell behaved, ready to cancel or throw it at the moment's notice. That was not the case with Shock. The only thing she cared about then was simply using a skill. The same applied even to Chain Lightning, a 3rd-circle lightning spell she had used.

Taking several long beats to analyze the memories, something unraveled within Lucas's mind. A new thought, an idea different from before.

'...now that I think about it... the sigil that summoned the spear was different from the ones that usually summon magic, both in its looks and function. It felt like it was struggling to be set free, rather than tamely using her mana. So, rather than a 'derivative', it would be closer to an 'integral' of regular magic.'

The voice chuckled softly. Its presence seemed slightly closer, almost as if the man's invisible and intangible form took a seat just a few steps to Lucas's right.

'[Albeit that is also not the correct answer, it is closer to the truth.]'

'It's also not correct?' Lucas's expression turned perplexed momentarily. Studying the writings on the blackboard, he kept thinking, gears in his head turning faster and faster.

The class's sounds died off, his mind traversing an empty expanse. The stares on his back no longer registered, and neither did the lonely sunray that warmed his palm on the desk. Although he appeared still focused on the lecture, Lucas's mind had unconsciously taken a step back. All of that was to listen to a second lecture that was just being delivered inside his brain.

'[Inherently, one is conditioned to think about magic rigidly and systematically, through classes and skills. Classes define who one is, and skills are used to express their power. But is that truly the way things are?]'

Lucas considered Adlin's words. Deep within him, he felt a faint recognition of what the man hinted at.

'...it's possible to use skills one does not know, but that's still tied to their class... wait.' Lucas suddenly made a pause. A glint of realization stirred within him. It was a memory of just before he first met Seraphina in person. 'But... how is that even possible? Can it be done intentionally?'

The voice hummed. Lucas could feel that Adlin was pleased with his questions, like a parent happy their child was stepping in the right direction. His presence slowly waned, but not before he spoke a bit more.

'[An effect must have a cause. It's all a matter of approach.]'

And then, Lucas blinked, suddenly brought back to his senses. His fists clenched on the desk as he took a sharper breath. Quickly recollecting himself, he took note of how the lean professor was just about to give his final words of the lecture. Stealing a glance at the clock on the wall, Lucas could confirm the hour was quickly approaching half noon.

And then, just as unexpectedly, all the sensations that had been blurred out previously now returned in full swing.

As all the students began packing their things, Lucas looked over them. Most of them didn't meet his gaze, either hiding their staring or too busy gathering their belongings. Even Ester, who had met his gaze once or twice in the past, didn't look at him.

Lucas felt sourness well in his heart. However, he squashed the feeling; it was bound to happen anyway, he reminded himself. It was a shame it happened so soon, but there was no point crying over it.

Hastily stepping out of the classroom, Lucas broke off from the crowd of his peers, trying to rid his mind of the musings he had no control over. His steps led him toward the library.

-Elsewhere-

Minerva looked ahead of herself. The tall structure of the Academy loomed grand over the surrounding territory, like a den of a dragon in the middle of a mountain. Its tall spires appeared even taller than the buildings in the Ureliar district of Weydan, although she knew it was an illusion because of the grandeur of the whole building.

Her gaze escaped sideways, toward a source of small commotion happening. Three men were working in the sun, all draped in special work outfits. One held some kind of an object in his hand, reminiscent of three mirrors on a handle, with a small, pointy weight on a lengthy piece of line dangling below. Looking at it carefully, he dangled the weight just above a long line of measuring tape, held taut by the other two. Seemingly randomly, the first man lowered the instrument in his hand, quickly scribbling down where the weight had landed while the others switched their orientation. The second worker knelt, pulling a sharpened stone from his belt before tapping it into the crevices between the cobblestones, marking the measurement with practiced precision.

Minerva watched, her expression unreadable. A quiet sigh slipped past her lips.

'Contractors...'

However, that feeling was washed off her mind immediately as she recalled why she, in particular, was the one here.

She'd known Egis for more than a decade. His methods were meticulous, his attention to detail bordering on obsession, not allowing any redactable mistake to pass him by. If there was even the slightest chance of an outcome out of his reach, he would make sure to prepare for it to the best of his ability. When something unexpected came up, he was quick to think of a new way, on the fly if necessary. And above that, he was never content with half-measures. The fact that Minerva was the one in her position spoke volumes of what he thought of her. She was his right hand for a reason.

Minerva fixed her attire. The light, bright robe on her shoulders shifted as she changed her leaning position on a wall, and she could feel just how much the material had heated up in the sun. A deeper breath was all it took for her lungs to be filled with smoldering air, and her skin felt almost burning to the touch. However, naught a tinge of sweat was visible on her fair skin; she had been in hotter places in her life already.

Movement caught her eye. The trio of workers were packing up, their noon break upon them. Looking at a small device in her hand - a machination by Egis - confirmed the time. She exhaled, a quiet breath of relief, and turned away, slipping seamlessly into the rhythm of the city.

Her route seemed aimless: an alchemist's shop, a nondescript corner of the street, a mildly unappealing Melidan chapel, and several others. However, what appeared to be made by chance was dictated by a plan ingrained in her mind so deeply that it wouldn't be lost even in ****. Every step, every turn she took, every glance in a particular spot here or there, every careful press against a wall, was calculated and preordered.

Eventually, her steps took her into the southern parts of the city. Minerva could easily notice the style of the buildings change. The strong, uniform buildings of Etnal gave way to more fleeting, random constructions as she entered the Ureliar district. The carnation of the people around transitioned from lighter tones of the people from the west and south to darker tones of people from the north. The way some people carried themselves also changed. The casual, confident gait of Enforcers now showed signs of slight wariness and uncertainty.

Children did not run past her in play. The elderly remained hidden behind shuttered windows. Only those in their prime prowled these streets, their gazes sharp, assessing, measuring her as an intruder in their world. Despite having felt their gazes on her many times already, Minerva still felt faint displeasure at the base of her spine. After all, she did not fit in the scheme; much like her boss, she was an outsider. However, unlike him, she wasn't well known, making people easily recognize her as an alien element. And on top of that...

"Hey, fine lady," a voice called out from behind, rough and edged with something unspoken.

Minerva stopped, turning with measured slowness. Her expression remained impassive as she met the gaze of the man who had addressed her.

He was nearly a head taller than her, with a strong posture and a confident look on his face. He measured her with his dark eyes, although Minerva sincerely doubted the amount of thoughts running through the man's skull.

"I don't recall you from around," he continued, approaching slowly. He appeared even larger now, barely a meter of distance between them. "Going to a bar, I see?"

The brown-haired woman barely answered, her reaction reduced to a shrug. He must've been new, to approach her so brazenly. She hardly cared for what the man wanted. It was obvious anyway.

However, as she took a step toward the door, intent on ignoring the man, he suddenly approached.

"How about I buy you a drink or two?"

"Not interested," she answered flatly, continuing her advance.

But as she reached for the handle, his hand suddenly gripped her shoulder.

"I don't think you understood me, lady," she heard him say, his voice now lower, tinged with a slight warning. "I wasn't asking," he added. With a glance, Minerva could see the outline of a sword in its pouch, affixed to the man's side.

Minerva sighed internally. Fools like these were the worst. A little strength and they thought they had the world in their grasp. It was just childish.

She sidestepped, forcing the man's hand off her shoulder. Turning to face him, she gave him a mildly annoyed look.

"Last warning," she spoke. Under her robe, her hands stretched, reaching into familiar places for items at her disposal.

"Oh, don't be so prickly," the man didn't appear intimidated in the slightest. "I'm sure a nice drink or two will make you loosen up," he continued, approaching. His presence was now dominating the space around him, pressing onto Minerva's shoulders unpleasantly.

He reached for her. Unlike before, when he aimed to grab her attention, now his hands looked like they would dig into her skin and peel it off her bones.

However, Minerva would not allow for such.

She backpedaled, the motion trained and smooth. Immediately, her hands raised, both clenching two metal poles, slightly shorter than her radii. With a quick swipe, she heard and felt the inertia of the objects cause them to double their length, a faint mechanical click informing her of their ready status.

"Oh, feisty, are you?" the man continued, wholly unfazed. "Don't worry, I won't bite--"

Suddenly, his voice was cut off by her weapons. With a quick swipe, Minerva delivered a precise slam at the man's hand reaching for her. The other, just as fast, stabbed his abdomen, nearly hitting his solar plexus.

His smirk vanished, replaced by a scowl. With a half-snarl, he reached for his sword--

Minerva was faster. Much faster.

She smashed the heel of her weapon against his thumb, a satisfying crunch punctuating the motion. At the same time, she struck the man's knees, making him almost buckle and lose his footing.

"You bitch!" he roared, recoiling. Fury sept from his tone as he raised his hand to defend. Still assessing the damage, he carefully grabbed his sword with the healthy limb.

Minerva didn't waste more time. Bringing her weapons together, she felt their ends pull to one another faintly. Allowing the magnetic **** to take over, she turned them, locking them as the whole pole, now about 1.8 meters long. With an experienced hold, she spun the weapon before rushing at the man.

A quick strike to the left, then to the right. Dodge a flailing attack, deliver a hasty strike to the man's chin, and a kick to the abdomen. The fight was now over.

The man fell on his back. Shouting a profanity, he attempted to rise, but she didn't allow it. Minerva quickly stabbed with her staff, precisely striking between the man's eyes. The **** of her strike, albeit not immense, was enough to do the job, rendering the man ****.

She shot a glance around. Some people discreetly watched her, understanding gazes full of enigmatic reverie and fear. Making nothing of that, she stepped into the bar, undoing her weapon as she descended the stairwell.

The large door separating her from her boss's workspace felt the same as usual - cold and heavy. However, as she stepped inside, she took a quiet breath. The change in atmosphere was enough to put her at ease - the dirty air of the outside gave way to a sterile, almost hermetic environment.

Immediately, she located the middle-aged man, his silver-gray line of hair almost glistening in the light of the lamp on his desk. He was looking over some documents that lay before him, but he almost immediately spared her a hasty glance.

"Minerva," Egis said, his voice calm and measured. "How are the preparations?"

"The nodes around the Academy are just about finished, as are the explosives by the Enforcer's office and in the western district."

The man hummed, lowering his hands and lifting his gaze to meet hers as she stopped a few steps before the desk. With a slightly languid motion, he pushed against the furniture, letting his chair move away and give him space to stand up.

"Very good. Have you confirmed the status of the patrols tomorrow?"

Minerva nodded, faintly recalling what she'd been doing before noon. "The usual routines will be present."

Egis hummed. Slowly, he moved past Minerva, his every step punctuated by a faint, mechanical noise. His expression was a mixture of pondering and acknowledgment, but reading beyond that was impossible for the brown-haired woman. His eyes held a faint glimmer of something unknown. Wonder, or perhaps anticipation, toward the grand event.

He approached a wall. On its surface, a few crudely drawn circles were present, and some small dents were visible. Most of them were just around the target, although a few hit close to the center. Egis brushed his hand on the drawing, wiping some chalk off.

"Have we handed out all the Alumeris yet?" he asked.

"Just about what was planned. There are still some leftovers, but they should be gone by the evening."

"And the groups?"

"Informed and ready. They aren't elated about the restriction of lethal ****, but they won't step out of the line."

"Good. Everything's going as planned, then," the tall man sighed, slowly turning and walking to the large alchemy table on the opposite side of the room. "Are there any news from the tinkerer?"

"Not as of now," she replied, calmly assessing her boss's actions. "He's locked himself out for the time being."

"I suppose that's the smart thing to do," Egis nodded. "Are you prepared?"

"As prepared as I can be."

The man looked at her. The gaze of his gray eyes solidified on her posture, analyzing her in an instant.

"It's a big day tomorrow," Egis said almost solemnly. "I hope you will have plentiful rest, Minerva. But before you go, allow me to give you something," he continued, quickly returning to his desk.

Her head tilted as she noticed the man reach for a drawer. From within, he pulled out the marvel of technology she'd brought from the tinkerer last time, and next to it lay its predecessor. It had a similar, rugged handle with a prolonged metal bar affixed to it, and many small pieces of mechanisms littering its overall construction.

The man checked the weapon's state for a few seconds with scrutiny. After checking that it was ready, he polished it quickly with a small towel before extending his hand.

"You're the only other person who knows how to use one of these here," Egis said, his tone heavy and serious as his gaze was aimed at her. "But only use it in an emergency."

Minerva lowered her head slightly, accepting the gift with humility. Feeling the firearm in her hand, she felt a faint sensation of alienation stir within her spirit. She was never fond of ranged weapons. Especially when a thing this small could instantly dispatch an assailant more than a few paces away, it sent a mixed signal to her combat center.

Egis's gaze softened slightly, understanding her emotions without her speaking them aloud. "I understand you prefer your own style, Minerva. I won't **** you to use it. But just in case, please hold onto it. It might just save your life."

Minerva bowed again. "I will."

Within her, a faint sensation of warmth spread. Egis was not a person who cared about individuals to this extent - such a thing was reserved for those he trusted. Therefore, she did not complain at all, knowing he was simply worried. Rather, she accepted her boss's trust with all she had.

"Anything more?" she asked, lifting her gaze to match his.

Egis's head shook. "Go and rest, Minerva. Perhaps take a walk or have a small drink. This is the last peaceful day this city will know for a while. We begin tomorrow at noon."