CHAPTER 1
The Ceremony
If you want to see the magic of spring, go and watch Kimberly Magic Academy’s entrance ceremony preparations.
People have said this for many years, usually sarcastically. Leave Galatea and head east, crossing two mountains, and you’ll find a path called the Flower Road leading to the campus. This time of year, a cornucopia of flowering trees are in full bloom, including the cherry blossoms. It’s a sight that certainly seems fitting for instilling hope in new students as they make their way to the academy gates.
And yet, it’s a strange sight from a logical perspective. You could search the surrounding area all you liked, but there wouldn’t be a single budding or bloomed-and-faded petal in existence. Thousands of plants exist along the half-mile Flower Road, from trees to shrubbery. Is it truly possible they all conveniently decide to bloom at the exact same time?
“Oh—even Jack the Unblooming has flowered nicely.”
The ancient cherry blossom tree was a thousand years old. Oliver, looking up at what was essentially the emblem of the Flower Road, sighed deeply. One of the tests for Kimberly sixth-year students before they could become seniors was to make sure that every plant along this road was in full bloom for the day of the entrance ceremony. The event had earned nicknames such as the Dark Sabbath and Hell’s Greatest Comedy Hour. This was the truth of this “springtime magic”—to an outsider, it seemed like such a fantastically rare sight, but once it was over, the sixth-years would collectively complain, calling it “the stupidest tradition ever.”
“Hey, you! Your shirt’s sticking out from your pants!”
“Brush that cat fur off your cape!”
“Do you have your handkerchief? Have you gone to the bathroom? Don’t hold it in. If you suddenly feel like you’re going to burst, let a prefect know!”
The dahlias, their stems outstretched, continually henpecked the flow of new students. Of all the living things along this road, they were the chattiest. Unfortunately, the students walking on the outside of the long line had no means of escaping the prying eyes of these so-called “pride plants” capable of thought and language.
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” a flower from another bed called out to Oliver, catching him unawares. Its stamen shook as it spoke. “Why, aren’t you a nervous Nellie!”
“…Do I look nervous?”
Singled out, Oliver looked himself over. He was wearing dark-blue pants and a gray shirt covered by a black robe. At his waist were a white staff and an athame in its sheath, each hooked in place. For a fifteen-year-old, he was pretty average at just under five feet tall, with similarly average-length straight black hair. There was nothing distinctive about him at all. He was your completely typical new Kimberly student.
“Yes, you do. I don’t know what you’re so afraid of, but it’s okay to relax a bit! This is your entrance ceremony! At least try to enjoy it—no matter what sort of grisly future might await you.”
“Thank you for the advice, madam. I must warn you, however, that if you don’t stop soon, you’ll snap your own stem.”
“Oh dear!”
The dahlia, which had been keeping up with Oliver’s pace, realized it was overstretched and returned to its flower bed. Oliver sighed and began walking again.
“Are they trying to comfort or scare us? At least pick one and stick to it,” said a student walking next to him. Oliver looked over to find a small, lovely girl with soft curls. Her outfit, except for the skirt, was exactly the same as his. A fellow mage-in-training, then.
“…Ahem.”
It must have taken some courage for her to say anything at all, because he could see the nerves written all over her face. Oliver smiled, taking care to commit to memory the first person to talk to him.
“I know, right?” he said to her. “Have you seen pride plants before, then?”
She relaxed upon hearing his friendly response.
“Not any that chattered on for so long. The ones where I come from are much cuter and simpler.”
“Ha-ha, don’t pay the dahlias any mind. They’re no more than rustling leaves compared with the ones at my folks’ place,” a third person said from behind them. Oliver and the girl had only just started talking when they turned around to find a boy with short brown hair. Although he was likely the same age as them, he was quite tall.
“Those kinds of magical flora have different personalities depending on the magical properties of the soil they set root in. I hear the ones ’round these parts are particularly nasty. That’s why the older students have such a tough time every year.”
He explained with authority. Judging from his tanned face and hands, Oliver assumed his family were magic farmers.
“We’ll have to deal with the same thing in six years,” Oliver joked. “I hear the students in charge are judged by how many blooms Jack has on the day of the entrance ceremony.”
“Ah, the rumored Hell’s Greatest Comedy Hour? From what I can see, Jack’s in full bloom—the current seventh-years must be quite talented,” the curly-haired girl said, and all three looked up at the stately cherry blossoms. At first glance, it seemed like nothing more than a really old tree, but upon closer inspection, they realized the bark’s bumps and pattern resembled the face of a sleeping old man. Did this pride plant elder also speak and move like the dahlias?
“Now, no disrespect to Mr. Jack or his rare full bloom, but there’s something else that catches my attention at the moment,” the tall boy said, shifting his gaze to the front of the line. Oliver and the curly-haired girl looked over as well, and the boy lowered his voice. “…What d’you think of that?”
He was pointing toward the center of the line, at a girl in a very different outfit from the rest of the students. She was covered from the waist down in loose fabric, a garment somewhere between pants and a long skirt. Something akin to a robe covered her top, tied together in front of her chest with a belt, and at her hip was a curved sword. None of them knew the official name for any of these things, but her unique appearance brought the same word to mind.
“…A samurai, huh?”
“A samurai girl?”
“Right. So I wasn’t mistaken, then.”
Now that they were in agreement, the boy hmm’d to himself. The girl was too far away to call out to, so he stood on his toes to better observe her.
“That’s way rarer than a talking dahlia. What’s a samurai from Azia doing at Kimberly’s opening ceremony?”
Oliver silently agreed. He and the two other students were from the Union, a multinational federation. The Union and Azia were so physically far apart that they had close to zero diplomatic relations. All Oliver and the others knew about the place were the rare stories from trade ships and the fragments of culture the more curious adventurers brought back. Naturally, this limited information led to fully romanticized fantasies. Thus, to them, Indus, Chena, and Yamatsu were all lumped together.
“Well, if she’s in line with us, then she must be a new student, too, right?”
“What about her uniform? That katana at her hip doesn’t look like an athame. Is that an Azian academy uniform, then?”
“Quit staring, you dope. I’m sure she has a reason. Maybe her transfer was really sudden and the tailor wasn’t open,” the curly-haired girl scolded the tall boy. Oliver nodded.
“Kimberly scouts children with magical abilities from all over the world, not just here in Yelgland. She must be one of those international prospects—much like you,” he said, to the surprise of the curly-haired girl. She froze momentarily, her eyes widening by the second.
“H-huh? You figured me out already? I was sure I’d memorized the language perfectly.”
“There’s still a bit of an accent in your a and o pronunciations. I’m guessing you’re from the north, maybe around Farnland?”
“…Ugh, you got me. There goes my surprise during the self-introductions,” she muttered bitterly, lips pouty. Oliver grinned guiltily, then took in the scene around him.
“Looks like there are a lot of students from outside the Union. That girl is the only Azian, though. Makes sense, since most of the countries there that we know about are closed off to magic. Must make scouting gifted kids quite a job.”
“Hmm… I wonder what it’s like to live without magic. Boy, I can’t imagine it.”
“The plants are probably easier to take care of, at least.” As the curly-haired girl spoke, the samurai seemed to be staring at a group of chatty dahlias with wonder. The contrast was so funny that Oliver let slip a chuckle.
“Whoa, check it out! A whole parade of magical fauna!”
Once off the Flower Road and through the massive academy gates, the students were on the campus grounds. The tall boy let out a shout, and Oliver looked over. “Whoa,” he breathed. Beautiful unicorns, griffins proudly spreading their wings, the golden scales of fafnirs sparkling in the sun—an orderly line of magical creatures, some far taller than humans, paraded around the courtyard.
“Hoo, what a sight! That’s Kimberly for ya. First, they impress you with their plants, then they hit you with the animals!”
The tall boy wasn’t alone in his amazement, either. The other students made no attempt to hide their excitement at getting a front-row seat to such a show. The line of first-years temporarily stopped—it was as good a time as any to get a good look at the parade. The tall boy hooted and hollered until he finally noticed that the girl next to him was frowning gravely. He turned to her.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, puzzled. “Loosen up. You can’t see something like this anywhere else.”
“I understand that. I just can’t bring myself to celebrate this,” the curly-haired girl said, pointing to a section of the parade. Oliver and the tall boy turned to see a ten-foot-tall, brawny, humanoid magical creature—a troll, a type of demi-human, was dressed in the simplest of garb and was lumbering along. “See? They’re forcing that troll to parade around like some magical beast.”
“Hmm? Yeah, I guess so.”
“Does no one have a problem with that?” the girl asked heatedly. The tall boy gave her a blank look.
“Where’s the issue? Wild trolls are dangerous creatures, but they make for valuable livestock if you can put them to work like that. They’re pretty useful for carrying stuff.”
“Sigh… You need to study more,” the girl said, lamenting his lack of knowledge. She whipped her pointer finger at him and continued: “Are you listening? According to the great sage Rod Farquois’s research, humans and demi-humans share a common ancestor, if you go back three hundred thousand years. Do you understand what that means? Our species are distantly related!” she lectured. The tall boy shrunk back, but she continued to hound him. “Do you know which demi-human kinds have been granted civil liberties?”
“U-um… The elves, right?”
“Correct. There are two more—”
“The dwarves and the centaurs,” someone bluntly interrupted. The two turned in surprise to find a short boy with a thick book in his hands. He snorted and peered at them through his glasses with haughty irritation. “That’s just common knowledge—no need to repeat it all. And if you’re going to chat among yourselves, would you mind being a little quieter? It’s disturbing my reading.”
“Huh? Oh, uh, sorry.”
The curly-haired girl instinctively bowed her head. No one thought to rebuke him for reading at a time like this.
“Those are griffins…no, hippogriffs? The wing shapes are nothing like the illustrations in my book. That damn bookseller better not have ripped me off…,” the bespectacled boy muttered as he glanced between his book and the parade of magical beasts.
The girl, watching him out of the corner of her eye, recovered with a cough.
“…Ahem. Correct. That’s all. Kobolds, sirens, goblins, harpies, pygmies—in magical biology, there are many living things we classify as demi-human, but only three species have been granted civil rights. This is all very recent, I might add. Twenty years ago, centaurs were treated no different from trolls. Just beasts of labor, valued for their ability to carry heavy loads.”
As she spoke, she quickly regained her composure. Oliver listened to her explanation with interest.
“But if we trace their roots, we discover that trolls branched off our common ancestor even later than centaurs. This is an academic fact, substantiated by much research. And yet, even though centaurs are now considered ‘human,’ we still treat trolls like slaves. Don’t you feel that’s wrong?”
She whipped out her finger again, while the tall boy crossed his arms and thought for a bit.
“Now hold on,” he replied. “I’m no expert here, but isn’t it a bit of a stretch to classify elves, centaurs, and trolls under the same umbrella? Trolls can’t speak or write. They’re pure muscle. They attack humans, too. And you want us to treat them as relatives?”
“You’re right about their limitations. But I object to your other arguments. The image of trolls as brutes only came about after humans began subjugating and using them in our wars. They were forcefully tamed, and their wills twisted.”
Oliver nodded to himself. Trolls were strong and tough, not too smart and not too stupid. For these reasons, it was in many ways inevitable that mages took to using them as servants.
“Are you tryin’ to say wild trolls don’t attack people? Sorry, but that’s just a pack of lies. Trolls injure plenty of folks each year back where I’m from.”
“Of course they’ll fight back if someone barges into their territory. The same goes for elves and centaurs. It’s an issue of boundaries,” the girl retorted, puffing out her chest as if that was final. However, the tall boy wasn’t convinced.
“Boundaries? This country’s population keeps growing and growing. If we don’t clear the mountains, we can’t plant more fields or build new towns. And if you really wanna get into it, what about this academy you’re about to attend? This place used to be home to other demi-humans before they built this campus.”
“Mmgh… Th-that’s an extreme example. I’m not trying to repudiate development. I just think we should recognize that they have the right to live in their own territories…”
“Should we, though?” the boy cut in. “If our positions were reversed, d’you think they’d treat humans with that much empathy? Would they just let us off with a gentle warning to not invade their space because we have a right to live, too?”
“Erk—”
The girl’s words caught in her throat as his argument hit her in a delicate spot. She was on the back foot now. The tall boy didn’t let up, either.
“This’s just my experience, but trolls are freakin’ scary for us out in the country. They’ve messed up our fields, which is why my family has set up traps to drive them back and sometimes hunted ’em in the mountains, but my mom and dad never let me come along. One mistake from an inexperienced person means death.”
This was true, too, Oliver thought as he looked over to see the girl’s reaction. The tall boy had real-life experience in this area, which lent weight to his words. Unable to come up with a suitable counterargument, the girl bit her lip bitterly in silence.
“…’S not like that,” the girl suddenly muttered. Her head was turned down, and her cheeks puffed out in a pout; even her tone was totally childish. “…Ours isn’t like that. My family’s troll… Patro is kind and strong. He’s never, ever been violent with me. Whenever he found me crying, he’d let me ride on his shoulders… I’m not lying. Trolls are gentle creatures.”
“Whoa, that’s nuts. I’ve never heard of trolls taking care of kids. Your parents must’ve trained it really well.”
The tall boy seemed to be impressed, but Oliver still covered his face with his hand. This was not good, even if he hadn’t meant to be sarcastic. And as expected, the curly-haired girl’s face instantly twisted in a sharp glare.
“‘Trained’?! Is that the only way you can think of them?! It’s because of people like you that trolls are afraid of humans!”
“What?!” he countered. “You’re the one makin’ light of wild trolls! You’ve never seen one take a giant poop on top of the field it’s just ruined! Those things are like small mountains! Come over sometime, and I’ll show ya! That’ll definitely change your mind!”
Each side answered the other blow for blow. It was no longer a discussion but a simple fight between children. The other new students around them shifted their gazes to find the source of the squawking. The bespectacled boy next to them, who had been reading this whole time, could no longer contain his irritation.
“…Don’t make me repeat myself. If you’re going to argue, at least do it quietly—”
“Pipe down over there! What’s all this commotion about?”
A voice pierced the din of the crowd, and the sea of people parted to allow a female student through. She stood straight as an arrow, and not a thread on her uniform was in disarray. Her skin was a rare coffee color, but what really drew the eye was her golden hair—the many ringlet curls so perfectly done, they seemed to shine with the luster of real gold.
“Just because the entrance ceremony hasn’t started yet doesn’t mean you can act like children! Once we passed through those gates, we became Kimberly students in both name and reality! And as students of such a historic institution, we should endeavor to be model examples, starting now!”
Her tone was as haughty as her appearance; so much so, it didn’t feel as if they were being scolded by someone who was their own age. But the two kids were so engrossed in their argument that her words didn’t even register. Instead, they turned their heated gazes on the intruder.
“Oh good, a third party. Hey, you—”
“What do you think when you see that troll?!”
Pointing at the troll, they dragged her into their argument. The ringlet girl was taken aback.
“Wh-what? Are you referring to the Gasney troll among the parade procession?” she asked in confusion, her gaze flicking over to the object of their discussion. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a keen glint arising within them. “Well, from what I can tell at this distance, it seems to be an excellent specimen. Its skeletal structure, its height, and that musculature… It should be able to serve another thirty years of hard labor without trouble. Kimberly only employs the best familiars. Anyone who offered less than three million belc for it at the market would get themselves laughed at.”
The students’ eyes went wide at her unexpected response. The ringlet girl turned back to face the new first-years and, seemingly realizing her mistake, crossed her arms in understanding.
“Ah, I see. Your opinions were split over its assessment? Yes, I should have expected you’d wish to know a mage’s opinion of its true value. But on my family’s honor, I swear that is a purebred Gasney. It is most certainly not mixed with any blood from the violent Krand or the stumpy Ellney… It seems a bit on edge, which I will admit is a little concerning.”
She briefly looked over at the troll, then returned her gaze to the two students and spoke proudly.
“If I might add, if you want to choose an excellent troll, you must focus on the breeder’s lineage before going for a personal appraisal. I’ve even heard a story of some poor soul who purchased a wild-natured troll from an unproven breeder, only to see it grow horns over the years. Upon investigation, it had ogre blood—”
“……”
“……”
The tall boy and the curly-haired girl fell completely silent, unable to find a moment to interject. Not only was this girl’s knowledge impressive, but her ability to appraise trolls made them both realize—the curly-haired girl especially—that her culture and values were so different that at their level, no argument was possible.
“What is it? Why the silence? Didn’t you want to know more about the troll?”
The ringlet girl cocked her head curiously as the awkward tension among the three of them deepened. Oliver, who had been simply watching, began to panic a bit—this wasn’t a good development right before the entrance ceremony. After some thought, he made up his mind to cut into the trouble developing.
“…Ahem. A-anyway, you guys, there’ll be plenty of time for scholarly discourse later. Today’s our entrance ceremony; we’re supposed to be celebrating. It wouldn’t do to show up looking so sullen, now would it?” he said and drew his white wand from his waist. He smiled as widely as he could at them to prove his friendly intentions. His throat tight with nerves, he squeaked, “So, uh, have a look at this and cheer up a bit, okay?”
He flicked the wand, and chanted loudly:
“Comarusal!”
The next moment, a giant mane sprouted into existence on the back of his head with a poof.
“Huh?”
“Whoa!”
The two who had started the argument opened their eyes wide in surprise. Yes! It worked! Oliver thought, but then the curly-haired girl ran over to him.
“Wow! You can cast a transformation spell? That’s so advanced!”
“Huh, I’m impressed you kept it to just the mane,” the tall boy remarked. “I tried that spell once, and my face turned into a cat’s from the nose down. I was totally freaking out.”
The two of them commented as they touched and inspected his mane with the utmost curiosity. Taken aback by their reactions, Oliver gave an awkward smile and asked, “…Um, you don’t think it’s funny?”
“Huh? Hmm, more like…”
“I’m just impressed. Shows skill.”
They both responded honestly, without any hint of malice. Oliver slumped in disappointment. This time, the ringlet girl approached him.
“You’re good. That was your version of Mr. Bridge’s Lanarusal, right?”
“Y-you know his act?” Oliver stammered.
“Yes, I love magical comedy, too. I suppose we have a common interest. The first time I saw that joke, I was clutching my stomach and laughing for nearly an hour,” she said, chuckling at the memory.
Oliver’s heart sank even more. She’d nearly died laughing at the original joke, but she hadn’t even snickered at his version. “……Sorry. Pretend you didn’t see that.”
“Huh? Why?! It was amazing! I was really impressed!”
But the words of praise fell on deaf ears as Oliver drooped with an overwhelming sense of defeat. Even the beautiful mane he’d worked so hard to perfect swayed sadly in the wind.
“H-hey, don’t get so depressed. At least no one’s arguing anymore, right?” the tall boy quickly added. Now recovered, Oliver finally stood back up. He dispelled the mane with another incantation and turned back to the ringlet girl.
“Anyway, that’s that. Sorry for the disturbance.”
“Yes, as long as we all understand one another.” The ringlet girl smiled gracefully and nodded. Satisfied that the matter was settled, she spun around. “The parade is about half-over. Soon we shall resume our procession as well. Do try to keep an orderly line so that we can all reach the academy without issue.”
And with that, she strode off elegantly. As they watched her go, Oliver’s gaze shifted to the front of the line.
“Seems the front’s started to move. She was right about us bidding farewell to the parade soon.”
“Wait, it’s over already? H-hang on, just give me a little more time.” The curly-haired girl leaned out even farther and stared intently at a certain section of the parade.
“I hate to leave, too, but we gotta,” the tall boy called out to her. “We’ll probably get loads of chances to see this stuff at Kimberly.”
“I know, but…I just can’t leave that poor troll! He really does seem to be on edge,” she said, her eyes locked on the troll. The ringlet girl’s analysis must have really gotten to her. Both boys shrugged. It wasn’t as if they had to start moving right away. But as soon as they took their eyes off her…
“Iaas.”
“Huh?”
A strange tingling ran through the curly-haired girl’s legs. All of a sudden, and against her will, her body jumped out of the line and began running straight ahead.
“Hey! What’re you doing?!”
“Stop! Don’t get any closer to the parade!”
Both boys shouted, noticing a step too late. But the girl’s legs wouldn’t stop. Fortunately, she had control of her head, and she shook it from side to side.
“I—I know! But I can’t—my legs are moving on their own!” she shouted back shrilly. Realizing something was amiss, both boys took off at the same time. They ran as fast as they could toward her, streaking past the gaggle of stunned students. As they got closer to the parade, they noticed something that made their eyes go wide.
“…?! Hey! Is it just me, or is that troll heading this way?!” the tall boy bellowed in confusion. He was pointing at the great creature that had been the subject of their debate earlier. Its giant body shook the ground with every step as it loped toward them. And behind it…
“Grrrrrr!”
“Rrrrarf!”
Two wargs had split off from the parade and were racing toward the troll. Wargs possessed strong instincts to protect the order of the herd, which meant they were often used similarly to how shepherds would use herding dogs. Their repeated barks were warning the troll to return to the herd immediately. However, the massive demi-human wouldn’t stop, completely ignoring the creatures. One of the wargs lost its temper and attempted to use force, biting into the troll’s ankle with enough jaw strength to snap a human neck.
“Hmph!”
The next moment, a massive fist cut through the air and smashed into the warg, reducing it to a pile of twisted flesh and bone.
“What the—?!”
“…!”
The warg’s formless remains filled the gap between the troll’s fist and the ground. The raw sight of pulverized flesh and flying bones made the tall boy grimace. Oliver, running next to him, recalled a bit of trivia he’d learned long ago.
What magical beast has killed the most humans? It’s a famous question. A mage’s naive instincts might lead them to say dragons or behemoths, but the reality is quite different. Such high-tier magical beasts don’t inhabit the same living spaces as humans.
Then what’s the correct answer? Many might be disappointed to learn it’s actually an extremely familiar creature: kobolds. With their outstanding reproductive abilities and pack instincts, they take first place. In third are bogeys, who use their malevolent brains to trick humans. Alone, they pose no real threat, but these creatures are responsible for over ten thousand human deaths a year. Their victims are mostly nonmagical folk, but it isn’t uncommon for misfortune to befall mages as well.
Then there’s second place… While they lack the barbarian tendencies and reproductive ability of the aforementioned creatures, their physical strength and obstinance are unsurpassed. They possess the intellect of a seven-year-old human child, but one must never forget that comes with a body that towers over ten feet tall. Beasts of similar size can be hunted with traps, but these can even set up traps themselves from time to time.
“ROOOOOAAAAARRR!”
This is, of course, referring to trolls, humanity’s reticent neighbors. Their big, muscular bodies and lesser brains make them perfect candidates for servants. And so, humans invaded their territories in an effort to domesticate them. Like the curly-haired girl said, trolls don’t attack humans simply for sport. And yet, every year the bodies pile up—the majority of which met their end trying to capture a troll.
“Gyaooow!”
The troll’s massive hand scooped up the second warg and crushed it before it had a chance to struggle. Its death howl echoed in the boys’ ears as bloody reality slapped them in the face.
“…Wh-whoa…”
“Yeah. It’s gone insane…!”
The moment he accepted what was happening, Oliver drew his athame from the sheath at his waist. Unlike the white wand he’d used earlier, this was a short sword that also served the role of a wand. This blade was inextricably associated with modern mages. Drawing it meant a fight was about to begin.
Ahead of the two boys, the curly-haired girl still didn’t seem to understand the situation she was in.
“Wh-wh-what’s happening?! What’s going on—? Bwah!”
Immediately, her disobedient legs ceased all movement, and she tumbled forward spectacularly from the momentum. Unable to catch herself, she rolled and rolled until finally stopping headfirst in the grass.
“Ugh… I finally stopped— Ow!”
Her relief only lasted for a second as pain shot through her now-freed right ankle. During her tumble, she’d twisted it badly. The pain was so intense that it was all she could do to sit up.
“Huh…?”
Right before her eyes was a wall of green-tinged muscle, towering like a small mountain. A pair of bloodshot eyes filled with hate stared down at her, the troll’s body heaving with malice. This was nothing like the one she’d grown so fond of back home.
“…Oh… O-oh…”
“Run! Get up and run, now!” Oliver shouted, the tip of his athame pointed at the troll. But the girl couldn’t move. More than her injury, it was fear that paralyzed her; she was so stiff, she could hardly even breathe. The demi-human’s leg rose, thick as an elephant’s, as it prepared to mercilessly crush her.
“Damn, I’m not gonna make it!” he cursed. She was too far away to help. Even so, Oliver was about to unleash a desperate magical attack when…
“Haaaah!”
No one could have predicted what came next. Gallantly, a figure leaped between the troll and the curly-haired girl.
“…?!”
The air quivered from the force of the shout. The next moment, Oliver felt as if the world had turned upside down. There, standing in front of the curly-haired girl, was the Azian girl. The troll paused for a moment, taken aback by her imposing presence.
“…You gotta be kiddin’ me. That samurai just stopped a troll dead in its tracks by shouting,” the tall boy said stiffly, his athame also drawn.
Completely unaware of their shock and still carefully facing off against the troll, the Azian girl called out to the girl behind her.
“Milady, can you stand and run?”
Her oddly formal Yelglish carried a strange undertone. The curly-haired girl came to her senses and quickly tried to stand—only to realize her legs had completely given out on her.
“I—I can’t. My legs, they’re numb…! Forget me—just go! Otherwise we’ll both get—”
“Hmm. I see,” the Azian girl answered, not particularly bothered. Her eyes were still locked on the troll. “Very well, then. Stay behind me, milady.”
With her next move, she placed her right hand on the blade at her left hip and, in one smooth motion, drew it from the sheath.
“Huff… Huff… Sh-she’s drawn her katana. Is that samurai thinking of fighting?” a different voice asked. Shocked, Oliver looked behind him to find the bespectacled boy from earlier out of breath from chasing after them. The ringlet girl, also having sensed something was amiss, was hot on his heels. She wasted no time stepping in front of the boys.
“Don’t be foolish! We must do something!” she shouted, pointing her athame at the troll. “I’ll draw its attention. You two, use that time to escape! … Tonitrus!”
She chanted a phrase, and the athame in her right hand glowed, unleashing a blinding light from the tip. It shot through the air faster than an arrow and struck the troll directly in the chest, exploding into sparks.
“Grr. Grrr!”
Unfortunately, the great beast seemed unfazed. The ringlet girl’s face distorted into a frown.
“I can’t believe it. A direct hit, and it won’t even glance at me?!”
“Ain’t enough firepower! Let’s help! Flamma!”
“Fl…flamma!”
The tall boy and the bespectacled boy followed up with nearly simultaneous fireballs from their athames. One hit the troll’s shoulder, while the other hit its cheek. Each left a small singe, and each was equally ineffectual. The troll’s gaze remained locked on the Azian girl before it.
“Wait, not even the face worked?” the bespectacled boy said in awe.
“Don’t just stand there. Do something!” the tall boy shouted at Oliver. But Oliver shook his head, his athame still at the ready.
“…It’s no use! We only know basic spells. No matter how many we cast, they’ll be weaker than a mosquito bite to that troll!” Having put the cruel truth into words, Oliver racked his brain for a solution. What should they do? By some miracle, the samurai girl was keeping the troll at bay, but as long as the curly-haired girl couldn’t move, they were both certain to be crushed. To make matters worse, they couldn’t possibly cast enough spells to draw the troll’s attention. One wrong move, and anyone who got close would be mowed down as well. They were powerless. What could they do?
“There’s only one way! I’ll get closer and aim for the eye!” the ringlet girl proclaimed and started forward, but Oliver grabbed her by the shoulder just in time.
“Wait a second. I have an idea. Can you guys use a gust spell?!” The moment the words left his mouth, Oliver’s legs started shaking from the weight of the responsibility he was taking on.
The ringlet girl raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Of course, but what good can a little breeze do?”
“Alone, nothing. But if we all work together, we’ll have a better chance of defeating this thing,” Oliver replied, trying to hide his cowardice. If they had no means to directly damage the troll, then getting closer without a plan would just make victims of them all. The question was, how could they avoid that and still resolve the situation? Considering all the spells he knew, Oliver could think of only one answer.
“Compress as strong a wind as you can, and when I give the signal, unleash it at a certain spot. I’ll smash them all straight into the troll.”
“You mean… Are you planning on using a focusing spell? I know you’re skilled, but what will that accomplish?”
“If I take the time to explain, those girls will die. Please just follow my lead for this!” Oliver insisted, pointing his athame aloft. The ringlet girl studied him for a few seconds and then, with firm resolve, stood beside him.
“…I can see you’re serious. Very well, I’m at your command!”
“Seriously…?”
“Yikes…!”
The tall boy and the bespectacled boy took their places on either side of Oliver, athames at the ready. Once they were prepared, Oliver waved his wand to signal them.
“““Impetus!”””
The three of them chanted in unison. Wind began to swirl around a point in the air. Once he identified its location, Oliver shouted, “Okay! Whatever happens, don’t stop casting! … Tibia!”
With his spell, he packed the swirling wind into the shape of a giant, invisible instrument. It began to emit a shrill sound, so he waved his wand and set to controlling it. Right now, it was just an annoyance. But if he could alter the flow of the wind, he could change the sound in all sorts of ways.
“What…?”
“…?!”
As the other three listened, the sound reverberating from within the instrument eventually began to change. That shrill, ear-piercing wail was now a low, gut-shaking rumble. A mysterious fear overtook them, and they began to quake. The ringlet girl recognized the sound.
“Is this…a dragon’s roar?!” she exclaimed.
“I’m just using a warning horn spell to imitate the sound! But a dragon’s roar is a dragon’s roar, even if it’s fake! Doesn’t matter how dense you are; you can’t ignore something that tops you on the food chain!” Oliver said, his mind hyperfocused on controlling the sound. In the face of the troll’s overwhelming resilience, the answer he’d found was not a spell’s destructiveness, but its impact. His approach was an attempt to stoke the flight instinct engraved into every demi-human’s brain: Run away from dragons! The troll, fooled into thinking a real dragon was near, jumped and turned to them.
“I’ve got its attention!” Oliver quickly shouted, seeing his plan had succeeded. “All of you, run! I’ll handle the rest!”
He was prepared to play a game of chase with the troll. But he wasn’t ready at all for what happened next: The Azian girl sprang into motion.
“Hup!”
She leaped off the ground, her body twirling high in the air…and landed on the troll’s knee, which was perpetually bent in order to support its great body. She used it as a stepping stone, hopping again and again until she finally kicked off its shoulder and was high in the sky.
“Unngh?!”
Realizing something was amiss, the troll swung its tree trunk–like right arm around. But it whiffed, catching only a bit of the hem of her clothes. Distracted by the joint spell, its giant body was vulnerable for only a moment—and high above its head, the Azian girl brandished her blade.
“Yaaaaaah!”
Putting her whole momentum, weight, and magic into one blow, she struck the crest of the demi-human’s head.
“Gaaah!”
A loud noise reverberated, like a gong being hit by a log. Spasms traveled down the troll’s body as its eyes rolled back in its head. The strength in its legs gone, it slowly sank to its knees before toppling uncontrollably. A few seconds passed. Oliver and the rest watched, too surprised for words.
“Wha…?”
Oliver’s words stumbled in his mouth and vanished before they could become anything coherent. The students stood gobsmacked as the Azian girl landed after delivering the finishing blow.
“Hooo…,” she exhaled.
Oliver’s breath caught in his throat. The girl’s hair was white. Where once it had been a bluish black, it was now tinged an opposite pure white and was bathed in a pale light.
“Innocent Color…,” the ringlet girl breathed. Oliver had heard a lot about this phenomenon. It was a peculiar reaction seen only in mages with both strong magical circulation and crystalline hair structure that allowed for the uninterrupted flow of magic particles. It was an extremely rare, almost sacred gift. With the fight over, the Azian girl’s magic circulation lowered to normal levels, her hair returning to its original black before their eyes. Suddenly, her blade slipped from her grasp.
“…I’m tingling, as if I’ve just been struck by lightning. Such a thick skull, the likes of which I’ve never seen before,” the girl muttered with a bit of awe as she looked down at her numb hands. She then turned to the curly-haired girl staring up at her in a daze and asked, “Are you hurt, milady?”
“Huh? Uh…”
“Hmm. You’ve injured your leg, I see. Give me just a moment to regain the sensation in my hands, and I shall offer myself as your transportation. My apologies, but I could not grip even a pebble at present,” she continued, shaking her hands. Her eyes then moved to Oliver and the others some distance away. Her tone friendly, she said to them, “Ah, good sirs and gentlewoman. I thank you for your assistance. It gave me an ideal opening.”
Her expression then became one of deep curiosity.
“Especially that roar. Who was responsible for that? It was quite intense. I must say, I nearly soiled myself before our entrance ceremony even began.”
From there, the cleanup of the situation was speedy. A number of the magical beasts in other areas had been inspired by the troll’s rampage to begin rioting as well, but they were immediately suppressed by Kimberly faculty and older students. Oliver and the other new pupils were told that the reason they’d been forced to take matters into their own hands was down to bad positioning—in other words, terrible luck right at the start of their academy year.
“This is taking forever,” the Azian girl lamented amid the din of the chattering new students gathered in the Great Auditorium. After seeing to it that the curly-haired girl was sent to the infirmary, the faculty had directed the scattered students back into their lines. This meant Oliver was separated from his companions—save for this girl. Instead, they were now side by side.
“I find it hard to remain still after witnessing a road of monstrous flowers and demons of all sorts parading about in broad daylight. Yet here we are, forced to simply sit and wait. It’s quite a letdown, don’t you agree, milord?”
She’d been badgering Oliver with questions the whole time, seemingly out of boredom. A little hesitant, he responded as frankly as he could.
“…We would’ve been in the middle of the ceremony by now if we were on the original schedule. Unfortunately, there was an accident, and someone was hurt. Even if it’s a minor injury, the delay was inevitable.”
“Oh? Someone was hurt in an accident? I hadn’t the faintest idea.” She seemed quite surprised. Confused, Oliver frowned.
“…What are you talking about? Did you already forget how you knocked out that troll?”
“Huh? You mean to say that was an accident?!” Her eyes went wide with shock. She put a hand to her chin and hmm’d for a bit in thought. “I see… I just assumed it was some sort of test given out to new students.”
“I doubt even Kimberly would do something that crazy. People would die before they even got to test their mettle.”
“Hmm… Indeed. I would have been in danger, too, if not for your help,” the girl stated plainly.
Oliver’s expression suddenly became quite stern. “…Hold on. Are you telling me you stood up to that troll without any kind of plan?”
“Plan? Ha-ha-ha! Of course not! Everything happened much too quickly for that. My only thought once I had my blade in hand was ‘How do I kill this?’ Its vital points were too high to reach, but if I were to run under it and slash its legs, I’d have put the girl behind me at risk. In fact, my current sword does not even have a cutting edge. My, what a bind that was.”
People had almost died in that fight, and she spoke of it as if it were a joke. The longer she cheerfully explained, the darker Oliver’s mood became.
“And your answer to that ‘bind’ was to use the troll’s limbs as stepping stones while it was paralyzed so you could aim for its head? Seriously? That’s beyond reckless. You would have died if I’d messed up my spell.”
“Indeed. And yet, I survived a deadly experience on my very first day. This bodes well.”
The girl crossed her arms and nodded to herself. Meanwhile, Oliver pressed a hand to his forehead. What was her deal? They were speaking the same language, yet he didn’t understand her at all.
“Quiet, new students! Your headmistress has arrived!” a teacher’s voice intoned, and the chattering students all shut their mouths. Once silence was restored, a woman appeared at the podium. No one saw her take the stairs. She was just suddenly there, where empty space had once been.
“I am Headmistress Esmeralda. First, allow me to apologize for my ineptitude in my oversight of today’s ceremony.”
The moment her exceedingly formal voice hit their eardrums, the students all instinctively sat up in their seats. Her eyes were the color of jade, glinting like the sharpest sword; her long dress faded from blue to black like the bottom of a lake; and at her waist were two intersecting athames. It all combined to give her an aura of fearsome beauty, with not a shred of brightness to lighten the audience’s heart.
“As you know, a number of magical beasts from the welcome parade escaped our control and injured a new student. However, they were quickly quelled, and the student in question has already been treated for their injuries. I personally guarantee the abilities of this academy’s physician. The student will be able to join all of you in class tomorrow without issue.”
This should have been cause for relief, but to the new students, this woman was scarier than the troll from earlier. Not even the Azian girl seemed impervious as she balled her hand into a fist, trying not to be cowed.
“…Just the sight of her makes me sweat. She is a true master.”
“Please stop talking right now,” Oliver practically begged her. At the same time, he noted how the girl’s ignorance about the headmistress was further proof of her foreignness. There wasn’t a single mage in the entire Union who didn’t know the name of this Kimberly witch. Her fame—and infamy—extended far beyond the Union’s borders.
“Since we are short on time, I will spare you the preamble and get straight to the introduction. This is Kimberly Magic Academy, where you will be studying for the next seven years. The two tenets of our academy spirit are ‘freedom’ and ‘results.’ Obviously, these are both predicated on self-responsibility. Thus, a simpler way of expressing this would be ‘Your life and death are in your own hands.’ That’s about it.”
The already-intimidated students swallowed nervously. That wasn’t something you were supposed to hear from a teacher. The headmistress continued unperturbed.
“That was not a metaphor. Of those students who join Kimberly, on average, eighty percent successfully graduate after seven years. So where do you think the other twenty percent go? The most fortunate are expelled due to misbehavior or withdraw due to bad grades. But these cases are rare.”
A chill ran down Oliver’s spine. He knew all too well that she wasn’t trying to scare them—she was simply conveying the truth.
“Some have been left permanently scarred from reckless experimentation with spells. Some have gone missing, lured away by a mysterious call. Others have even gone berserk and committed mass murder, forcing their fellow students to end their lives. Your paths can end in a variety of ways. In the magical world, we call this phenomenon ‘being consumed by the spell.’ And this is going to happen to twenty percent of you over the next seven years,” the witch stated, not as a warning but as fact. The students shivered. Their excitement over a new academy was completely gone; some were even tearing up. The headmistress looked down upon them all equally as she continued.
“This was true two years ago. This was true last year. And it will be true in the future. Do you understand why? This is what it means to learn the ways of magic,” the witch affirmed without hesitation. She did not question whether it was good or bad. It simply was.
“A mage’s work involves acquainting oneself with evil—feeling it, understanding it, controlling it. Thus, the danger of consumption is always present. There can be no success in your quest for sorcery without risk. Humanity’s efforts throughout history have brought us our progress today. Old and young, male and female; we trudge tirelessly forward as the bodies pile up around us.”
She explained what it meant to be a mage to all her future students, attempting to drive home her message on their first day so that they did not mistake the true nature of the path of magic.
“With that history in mind, I repeat: Your life and death are in your own hands. However, do try to leave some success behind. I know that ninety percent of you are simpletons who will never amount to much in the magical world, but I place my hopes on that last ten percent. Make every conceivable effort to become a part of that ten percent. When a tiger dies, it leaves behind its pelt. Be the tiger. Otherwise, not even your bones will remain here.”
A despondent silence settled over the Great Auditorium. The speech was over, yet no one attempted to applaud. A majority of the students were fighting desperately with the emotions rising within themselves. I shouldn’t have come here, their instincts screamed. They had no choice but to grit their teeth and suppress such signs of weakness.
“That is all from me. Another instructor will give you more details about campus life once the ceremony is over. But if you have any questions about what I’ve just said, now is the time to speak up.”
Obviously, no one was in any state to raise their hand. The students could only respond with silence, as before. And so, the witch opened her mouth to continue on, when…
“Milady Headmistress! If I may!”
…there was an interruption, totally unexpectedly. Oliver froze when he realized the voice had come from directly beside him. Shivering with fright, he turned his eyes to see the Azian girl’s right hand pointing directly up.
“Very well. What is it?” the headmistress replied promptly from the podium. The girl stood as straight as she could to make herself visible among the crowd. She curled her middle finger and placed the joint against her temple.
“I recommend massaging this pressure point when you have a headache, milady!”
A hush fell over the auditorium again. But this time, instead of dread and despair, it was filled with puzzlement.
“…Is that a question?”
“Nay, ’tis a recommendation. You seem to be quite afflicted,” the girl answered, smiling brightly. The students’ puzzlement had now turned completely to shock. The witch stared at the Azian girl’s innocent face with something close to hatred for a few seconds before quietly averting her gaze.
“………If that is all, then we shall proceed with the ceremony,” she said after a long pause. The gravitas she’d worked so hard to establish was now in tatters; the girl simply smiled with satisfaction, having said her piece. After looking back and forth between the two repeatedly, Oliver pressed his forehead into his hand.
“You…idiot…,” he muttered tiredly.
“Nay, it truly does work! Try it for yourself and see, milord.”
“You idiot!” Oliver repeated, fortunately managing to keep his voice down enough so that he wouldn’t be scolded for talking out of turn. Unfazed, the headmistress continued the ceremony.
“There’s no need to be so apprehensive. The welcome banquet is about to begin,” she said with far less tension than before. Silently, she raised an athame above her head. “Up you go, now. Take your seats.”
The instant she spoke, the students’ bodies became weightless.
“Whoa!”
“Waaah?!”
Shouts and screams of confusion blended together as the students floated into the air. Before they could crash into the ceiling, they gently deaccelerated, flipped upside down, and were sat snugly into their seats. The ceiling was decorated with a well-organized series of tables and chairs.
“Sheesh, we’re finally up… Welcome, shiny new first-years, to Kimberly!”
“The headmistress is super freaky, huh? You guys write your last will and testament yet? Mm?”
“Hey, don’t scare them! Don’t worry—we’re going to have lots of fun!”
Suddenly, the great tables were piled high with a colorful feast as far as the eye could see. Around them was a line of older students in full hospitality mode. After a look about her, the Azian girl gazed upward blankly.
“How strange! Our seats have been moved to the ceiling.”
“…It’s a reversal spell. There’s a magic circle around this whole room to shorten the casting time,” Oliver explained, half to himself to settle his racing heart. He’d had quite a fright. Unfortunately, the new-student welcome changed every year, so this was one area he had failed to gather information on prior to arriving on campus. He looked up to their new “ceiling” to see the headmistress and a number of faculty still there.
“As is tradition, you are now permitted to talk among yourselves. Eat, drink, be merry, and chat with your soon-to-be fellow classmates,” the headmistress calmly announced to the upside-down students. This was their signal to really let loose. The upperclassmen chanted a spell in unison, summoning pitchers filled with drink to fly above their heads and fill every glass.
“C’mon, people! Drink, drink! This white grape juice is so good, it should be illegal! The clurichauns at the academy distillery created this masterpiece!”
“Go ahead and forget what the headmistress said, okay? It wasn’t a total lie, but it was fairly exaggerated. At the very least, you don’t have to worry about any of that until your fourth year. Plus, we upperclassmen are working hard to make everyone’s lives safer!”
The older students did their best to be bright and lively, as some of the new students were still reticent to join in. Thanks to their energy, the welcome party began to liven up considerably.
“Oh, found them! …Heyyy, over here!” a familiar voice called. The tall boy from the episode with the troll was pointing and shouting toward Oliver from far away. The ringlet girl and the bespectacled boy, upon hearing his call, came jogging over. Save for the injured curly-haired girl, their little band was reunited.
“Ah, we finally meet again. Today has been an ordeal, hasn’t it?” the ringlet girl said.
“Oh, hey, guys. Thanks again for the help earlier. I wouldn’t have been able to do that alone.” Oliver took the chance to directly thank the three of them for assisting in his troll plan.
“Sure thing,” the tall boy said and nodded.
“Hmph.” The bespectacled boy snorted and looked away. The ringlet girl smiled and calmly accepted Oliver’s thanks.
“Since the headmistress has allowed us to chat, why don’t we introduce ourselves? Actually, first I have a proposal. Would you mind?” she asked.
“Sure, what is it?”
“Why don’t we go see that girl in the infirmary? Her injury is apparently healed, after all. It just breaks my heart that she won’t get to participate in the festivities because of some freak accident.”
It was a reasonable idea, yet it also contained a fair bit to be concerned about. While Oliver was considering a response, the bespectacled boy bluntly cut in.
“…Just leave her alone. She was attacked by one of her beloved trolls on her very first day. Even if she’s been treated for her injuries, she might not be fully over the shock.”
“Perhaps you are right. Still, I believe one must reach out anyway at such times. Alone, people are liable to fall into depression. It could prove helpful to her to have someone to talk to,” the ringlet girl replied without hesitation. Both sides were right in their own ways; Oliver couldn’t decide what to do.
Suddenly, the Azian girl, who had been staring “upward” for the past few minutes, joined the conversation.
“It seems we needn’t agonize any longer.”
The rest of them looked up as well and let out a shout. There, on the ground where they’d been moments before, was the curly-haired girl. It wasn’t long before the headmistress waved her wand from up on her podium, sending the girl floating into the air.
“Huh? Wah— Eeeek?!”
She fell straight at them, landing softly in the Azian girl’s outstretched arms. Perfectly poised, the samurai smiled at the girl, who was frozen stiff from fear.
“Milady has arrived.”
“I-I’m sorry! I’ll get off right now!” the curly-haired girl yelped as she clambered down, her face beet red.
Hesitantly, the tall boy called out to her. “Hey, you sure about this? I heard your ankle was healed, but, uh…”
“Oh—yes. The doctor told me attending the party would be good for my mood,” she said and forced a smile. Before anyone could call her out on it, she quickly moved to thank them. “Also, thank you all for saving me. I wanted to at least tell you that before the day was over.”
“I think two of us deserve more praise than the rest,” the tall boy said with a grin. He turned to Oliver, who could only manage an awkward smile, while the Azian girl confidently held her head high and crossed her arms. They each accepted her gratitude in their own way.
“No need for thanks, milady. I am a warrior.”
“It’s been an unlucky first day, huh? But at least you’re alive. That’s a relief,” Oliver said and sighed. His gesture was so filled with emotion that the curly-haired girl panicked and quickly apologized.
Oliver assured her she had nothing to be sorry for.
The ringlet girl, seeing that the conversation had died, attempted to rally. “Now that we’re all here, it’s about time we got to know one another. Mind if I start?”
The other five nodded, and she proudly puffed out her chest.
“Ahem. I am Michela McFarlane, eldest daughter of the ancient and noble McFarlanes of southern Yelgland. Those close to me call me Chela. Since I’m sure we’ll grow close as well, feel free to use that name.”
“So you’re a McFarlane, eh? I’d guessed as much from your hair. I’ve always wanted to ask if that style’s some sort of curse put on your clan.”
“A curse? How dare you! This graceful yet bold hairstyle is the mark of my family! The proper response is to faint in awe of its beauty!” Chela twisted her torso, emphasizing her beloved locks.
The curly-haired girl was completely captivated by this; when she noticed everyone’s eyes were on her, she nervously began to introduce herself.
“Oh! Um—I’m Katie. Katie Aalto. Some of you already figured it out, but I’m an exchange student from Farnland in the north. I like magical beasts—well, all animals, really. If we’re all going to be friends, then I’d be fine if you called me Katie, I suppose,” she said and smiled gently.
After a little pause, the tall boy joined in. “Oh, me next? I’m Guy Greenwood. I won’t lie and say my family’s famous or nothin’, but our magical farm’s been around for generations. I’ve been gettin’ my hands dirty since before I could even talk, so I’d say I know a thing or two about plants. You ever wanna try some tasty vegetables, just let me know. I’ll have ’em sent to ya straight from our fields,” he said and smacked his chest. Next came the bespectacled boy standing by Guy’s side.
“…Me too, huh? …Name’s Pete Reston. Both of my parents are nonmagical, so I have no ancient lineage. I took the exam six months ago and learned I’d passed two months ago. That’s when I decided to enroll.”
“So you’re here thanks to the nonmagical quota, yes? You must be a very hard worker; they won’t admit just anyone,” Chela gushed.
“No need to lay it on so thick. I don’t intend on being very friendly with you all.”
“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine?”
“I came here to learn magical arts, not to be distracted by a bunch of chatterboxes. I’ll at least remember your names, but don’t try to get all buddy-buddy with me.” Pete snorted and looked away, as if to drive the point home. But noticing Oliver’s gaze on him, he cautiously shrunk back. “…Wh-what? Why are you staring at me?”
“Oh, I was just impressed by that book you were reading. That’s Alfred Werner’s Introduction to Magic for Nonmagicals, isn’t it?” Oliver said, pointing at the book tucked under Pete’s arm. Pete’s eyes went wide with surprise.
“Y-you’ve heard of it?”
“Heard of it? It’s a masterpiece! I’ve read the book more times than I can count. It uses unique examples to deftly explain instinctual things that might easily trip up mages from nonmagical parents. The contents are quite practical, and the short stories between chapters are funny.”
“I—I know, right? That conversation with the magical judge at the end of chapter three was especially brilliant—” It was at this point Pete realized the others were also staring at him, and he quickly attempted to gloss over his behavior. “…A-anyway, weren’t we introducing ourselves? Don’t change the subject. You’re next!” He urged Oliver on with a slight push.
“Mm, okay then,” Oliver said without much resistance. “My name is Oliver Horn. I come from two generations of mages, but due to certain circumstances, I’ve lived with my relatives, the Sherwoods, since I was a kid. My cousins are Kimberly students, so I’ve heard a lot about this place. Also, um… Oh! I don’t know many fancy spells, but I like to think I’m pretty good at casting and adapting spells.”
He was a little embarrassed to say that last part.
Chela nodded. “I knew it. I’ve never seen Tibia used to replicate a dragon’s roar before. That focusing spell is already difficult to control, so it’s impressive you managed to do that with people you’d only just met. Not only that, but you were quick-witted enough to come up with that plan in such a dire situation. Oliver, you are first-class in my eyes.”
“Oh, I was far more impressed with your magical output. Honestly, I didn’t think even with the four of us that we’d be able to achieve anything like that. But it makes sense now that I know you’re a McFarlane.”
“…That made my heart nearly leap out of my chest… I even wet myself a little…”
“Hmm? You say something, Katie?” Guy asked suspiciously.
“No! You be quiet!” Katie yelled at him, her face slightly crimson.
Chela, pleased with how open everyone was being with one another, turned to Oliver. “By the way, Oliver,” she asked, “why didn’t you mention magical comedy when you introduced yourself? I could tell you must have practiced it quite a lot.”
“Ngh…! I-it’s not something I can proudly call my specialty, and I already failed with it earlier. Just pretend you didn’t see that.” Oliver’s shoulders drooped as he remembered bombing a few hours ago.
Chela giggled a bit before her eyes shifted to the last person yet to introduce themselves. “So that’s me, Katie, Guy, Pete, and Oliver… Last would be you, of course.”
And with that, everyone’s attention focused on the biggest enigma of them all. The Azian girl burst out with her introduction as if she had been barely holding it in.
“Indeed! I am Hibiya Nanao, daughter of a warrior family from Tourikueisen, Yamatsukuni. In your custom, you would call me Nanao Hibiya. About half a year ago, I was stationed as a rear guard in a battle that ended in our loss. Just before defeat, I was saved by a passing mage by the name of McFarlane. He invited me to Kimberly, and that is how I came to be here today!”
Chela froze. A graceful smile still rested on her lips as she awkwardly asked, “…Just one second. Did you say McFarlane?”
“That I did. And what a coincidence that it is your last name as well… Hmm? Come to think of it, his hair was quite similar to yours, too!” Realizing these common points, Nanao carefully reexamined Chela, who pressed her hand against her brow and sighed.
“…It’s no coincidence. Most likely, that was my father. He’s an interim lecturer here. We were wondering where he’d wandered off to for work. You mean to tell me he went all the way to Azia to scout for talent? I never would have guessed,” the girl muttered tiredly. It was a revealing glimpse into her personal life, but no one dared dig deeper. While Chela was deep in thought, Pete followed up with a question for Nanao.
“But both your parents aren’t magical, I assume. Then did you take the examination like I did?”
“Hmm? Nay, I partook of no tests of knowledge. The most I did was study your language under the strict tutelage of a home tutor sent by Lord McFarlane.”
“…So you were accepted without an examination?”
“More specifically, Kimberly faculty have a special ability to nominate students. They’re limited to one per teacher—two at the very most. My father must have used his nomination on Nanao,” Chela explained, her composure gathered.
Pete, who had gone the honest route and passed the exam, scowled.
As the mood soured, Katie quickly changed the subject.
“Um… About your clothes—I’m guessing there wasn’t enough time to get your uniform tailored?”
“Mm. Lord McFarlane told me last night that it had slipped his mind, so I wore my country’s formal attire in hopes that it would suffice. It was made for my coming-of-age ceremony, and I am quite fond of it.”
Nanao snorted proudly as she pushed out her chest. Katie approached her with deep curiosity in her eyes.
“I’ve never seen clothing like this before. The dye is very pretty… May I touch it?”
“But of course, milady. And perchance, may I touch your hair? I find myself captivated by its volume. What do you eat in order to grow such hair?”
The two merrily complimented each other as they inspected the other’s clothes and hair. From their side, Chela proudly tossed her ringlets.
“Ahem! If you’re so curious, then you may touch my hair as well.”
“Perhaps another time, when I have thick gloves on hand.”
“O-oh, I see… Hold on, it’s not sharp or anything!”
A cultural exchange of sorts quickly began among the three girls.
“All right, then,” Guy said softly as he put his hands on his hips. “We all know each other’s names and faces now, yeah? Then let’s get back to enjoying the party! My poor stomach’s been rumbling just from the smell of the spread they’ve set out for us.”
“Ah yes. I am hungry, too, that I am. I presume this is my portion?”
“?! Wait, Nanao! I don’t know how you came to that conclusion, but that amount of roast beef could serve twenty people at the very least!”
“What? Surely you jest. I could easily handle this on my own.” Nanao cocked her head quizzically as she lifted a giant piece of meat. Her reply left Oliver with the biggest headache he’d ever experienced as he marched over to her.
“That clinches it! You don’t know a thing about our culinary etiquette, do you? First of all, sit down! Pick up a fork and knife with each hand, put on your bib, and eat only what’s on your plate! I’ll handle serving you until you learn!”
Oliver forced her into her seat, put the cutlery in her hands, and began busying himself loading a plate. Once it was filled with a balance of meat, vegetables, and fruit, he filled another and placed the food before Nanao. Her eyes glittered.
“Ohhh! I need not say a word, and the food comes to me. I feel like a princess.” After an emotional moment, she placed her hands together before eating and said, “Thank you for the food.”
She was a bit awkward with the fork and knife, but her joy as she stuffed her face was infectious. Her neighbor, Katie, watched her closely.
“You sure seem like you’re enjoying yourself… Oliver, fetch me something, too!”
“Yo, Oliver! We’ve got another princess on our hands.”
“Katie?! But why? I was sure you’d help me in her etiquette education!” Oliver moaned as he continually moved about the table. It wasn’t long before Nanao polished off her plates with extraordinary speed.
“Delicious! More, please!” she insisted. Soon, Oliver was balancing three plates on one arm like a skilled waiter. Pete coldly watched Oliver’s struggles as he tucked in to his own meal.
“What a racket… Can’t you eat a little quieter?”
“I already grabbed some pie, fritters, pudding, and muffins, so now I should go for— Hmm? Pete, there’s only meat on your plate. It’s not good to have an unbalanced diet at your age. Have some more green veggies. Here, I’ll help.”
“Ah?! H-hey! Who said you could…?!”
Oliver piled vegetables onto Pete’s plate as he passed behind his seat. Pete turned around to complain when Guy plopped down next to him.
“Looks like someone here doesn’t appreciate the value of vegetables. How ’bout you and I have a little chat about agriculture while you eat those, huh?”
“What?!”
“My, it’s gotten so lively. Nanao, look here! Allow me to teach you perfect table manners!” Chela announced loudly as she moved her fork and knife across her plate. Her handling of meat and vegetables was stellar, but what really impressed them was her ability to skillfully peel the skin off oranges and pears. Nanao and Katie stared in wonderment. Opposite them, Pete and Guy began discussing the pros and cons of magical pesticide in farming. Once Nanao’s appetite was at last satisfied, Oliver finally joined them at the noisy table.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login