The Arcanum's main obligation was to govern and monitor the practice of magic throughout the country. The Military was an indomitable force, no doubt, but not even they could account for every "incident" involving the mystical arts, nor could they comprehend how exactly to approach such fragile anomalies. Most of them were the shoot first and ask questions second type. But magic was a delicate, sacred exercise. Tragically, though, not everyone shared this opinion. Some, like the bizarre lab rats in the State Military, sought to weaponize it. Reachers and others in the science communities loved to run their experiments on it, aspiring to usher in a new revolutionary age of magically enhanced technology.
And then there were rogue sorcerers, criminals or wanted fugitives who somehow managed to procure themselves wands. Needless to say, the Arcanum had their hands full, being entrusted with a monsoon of different magic-related problems. And so their ranks were primarily composed of some of the best Professional Sorcerers they could find. Not every sorcerer took that path, however. Some found honor in serving in the Military as State Sorcerers. Many of them were revered as famous war veterans and heroes. One such sorcerer among them was Allan Marsh, the Abyssal Sorcerer.
Most ordinary folks didn't know of him. In fact, up until recently, Elaine was no different. This was mainly due to how elusive and discrete the sorcerer was regarding his work. In the sorcery world, however, he was practically a living legend. Based on her eldest brother's description—being the sorcery-obsessed freak that he was—Allan Marsh was one of the strongest sorcerers in the entire country and had quickly risen from being just a newly recruited State Sorcerer to a lieutenant general. He'd participated in numerous civil conflicts and was responsible for capturing some of the most dangerous rogue sorcerers Incante had the misfortune of bolstering. Elaine wondered how someone like him would wind up as an educator at Glyph Academy. Ellend had mentioned that he had just randomly turned in his letter of resignation one day and then disappeared into the country. But in actuality, he was hired as a professor? No, Elaine didn't buy it. There had to be more to that story. Plus, the man didn't really seem to be...professor material.
"All right, let's see here," he yawned, staring at the clipboard in his hands. Sleepy eyes, drooping shoulders, a couldn't-be-bothered attitude. Was he related to Raze, perchance? "I suppose our first order of business is taking attendance," Professor Marsh dryly said. "So here's how we're going to do this: we'll start from the front of the class and make our way to the back. When your name is called...uh...give us an introduction. Tell us a little about yourself. I don't know; it's up to you."
Glad to see he's excited to be here, Elaine thought.
"Oh, and try to keep your intros as brief as possible, will you? We're already running late," he said. "There's twenty-three of you, and I have a few announcements at the end, yeah?" Nobody in the class responded—still processing that the Abyssal Sorcerer was indeed their teacher, more than likely—and Professor Marsh gave a shrug. "I'll take that as a yes. Okay then, who's up first?"
Elaine leaned forward in her seat. This presented a prime opportunity to get acquainted with her fellow classmates. At the very least, she'd come away with a list of names to reference in the future. True to her expectations, a significant number of them hailed from Noble Families. Among the crowd, she discerned a couple of fourth and third cule, heirs to thriving businesses or sacred bloodlines, born into luxuries that felt as foreign to her as the Celestial Realm itself. Yet, despite their refined upbringing, sharing the same space with her, you'd be hard-pressed to guess they were born into privilege. Elaine, drawing from her personal experiences, had honed her ability to spot nobility amidst a sea of commoners. Their way of speaking, laced with a cultivated eloquence; the exquisite fabrics of their attire, tailored to perfection; and the way their servants flitted about, attending to needs before they were even voiced, all painted a well and accurate picture of their status.
Once, during a fleeting moment at a gathering in Page, she'd witnessed a noblewoman, draped in a gown of shimmering emerald silk, throw a tantrum over the hue of her transport—a lavish carriage adorned with carvings and drawn by land dragons. The woman insisted vehemently that the vehicle be painted in a shade closer to midnight blue, her voice rising above the gentle hum of polite conversation. Such behaviors were all too familiar to Elaine; they illustrated the dichotomies of their world, where frivolous complaints danced hand in hand with the weight of lineage.
Goldbloods were fragile, superficial creatures. But her classmates, they seemed to be a lot more...unhinged in how they came across. Some didn't speak in the dignified manner she would have otherwise predicted they'd inherit. Some spoke of grand, even nonsensical, aspirations that made Elaine doubt that her ears were functioning correctly. And then there were some like Abigail Bovine, a girl sitting in the front row of the class. When her name had been called, the brown-skinned girl with dark eyes and spiky black hair rose to her feet, announcing without care, "I go by "Abby" these days, sir. And I came to this academy to learn how to fight. How to better use my magic in a duel. I need to get stronger. I'm tryna kill someone." She didn't bother elaborating, and Allan Marsh himself didn't appear to be the least bit fazed by the eerie proclamation. He continued down his list of students as if everything the odd girl had just said was, ultimately, unequivocally...normal.
Elaine's interest was piqued as Professor Marsh called out the name "Kliff Dresden." Two desks in front of her, a student—his blonde hair catching the soft sunlight drifting through the windows—exhaled a pronounced sigh. Kliff rose from his chair, straightening his posture with an air of confidence that turned heads. "That would be me, sir," he acknowledged, his voice steady and clear. He scanned the room with his blue eyes quietly. "I've always had a fascination with magic, even as a child, when I would spend hours flipping through ancient tomes and watching street performers conjure illusions." His words flowed effortlessly, imbued with a blend of passion and determination. "I worked tirelessly to secure my place at Glyph Academy, which is renowned as the premier institution in the country for anyone aspiring to become a Professional Sorcerer." He paused, a hint of pride flickering across his face. "Now that I’m here, I am committed to becoming the best student I can be—fostering my skills, mastering spells, and deepening my understanding of the mystic arts. And I sincerely hope that we can forge strong bonds as classmates and future sorcerers." He concluded with a warm smile, his earnestness resonating in the room. "That is all."
Kliff settled into his chair, and moments later, the room erupted in a chorus of hushed murmurs. Elaine understood the cause of the commotion all too well. Even as someone from a humble background, she was well aware of the illustrious Dresden Family. Among the most exclusive circles of nobility, the Dresdens held an esteemed position, their reputation carved from centuries of influence and wealth. The family was not merely known; they were revered, occupying a pedestal that seemed impossibly high, a vantage point few could hope to reach. Their considerable fortune stemmed from their pioneering wand-making enterprise, which spanned thousands of shops and factories, extending from the Capital to the idyllic town of Altho in the far south. It was no exaggeration to say that a vast majority of the wands in the country, accounting for over 80% of production, bore the distinctive mark of the Dresdens. Elaine couldn't help but think that nearly every classmate around her had likely possessed a wand crafted by this celebrated lineage.
She turned her attention back to Kliff, who slouched nonchalantly in his chair, his body language suggesting disinterest while his lineage promised him a future of unrivaled opportunity. Someday, he would inherit the sprawling enterprise, a prospect nearly assured from the moment he drew his first breath. It begged the question, why bother studying to be a sorcerer when he more than likely already had everything he could ever ask for? Goldbloods and their mysteries, there was never an end to them. After Kliff gave his introduction, Elaine listened as the other students said their parts as well. It was quite a varied ensemble. A girl from the Capital who was heir to a thriving trades and craft business. A sorcerer of fourth cule hailing from a family of powerful and noteworthy politicians. So entranced was she by their separate backgrounds, Elaine hadn't noticed her name being called until the Abyssal Sorcerer coughed into a fist. She hopped in her seat, her face glowed crimson embarrassment as the class peered in her direction.
Giving them a brief yet all too awkward chuckle, she stood up and said in a light tone, "Elaine Harwood, that would be me." It was not her best introduction, but it was the only one she'd the power to muster, given her cumbersome circumstances. "I was born and raised in Page, far into the countryside. I wouldn't be surprised if none of you have ever heard of it."
"Page, huh? Say, isn't that the town close by Gallow Forest?" asked the boy with a harsh-sounding voice. His name was Jack Durge, if memory served, and he was aspiring to join the ranks of the Military after he graduated. Yeah, he'd make a good fit as a State Sorcerer.
Elaine nodded at him. "That's the one."
"Awesome. You know, I heard the Gallow Forest is home to some pretty wicked beasties. Have you ever checked it out for yourself, or are they just baseless rumors?"
Memories of the past sprang loose in her head, and the image of a screaming Ellend ignited by flames burned bright in her gaze. That night, she'd heard Aeris' whispers. On that night, she learned how overwhelming the fear of death could be. "Once a year, we'd hear stories of a traveler going missing," Elaine confirmed, desperate to keep her false smile. "My folks never let me go near it either, but there's never been word of there being any monsters. At least, not to my knowledge."
Jack had both fists clenched before him, his light brown eyes scorched with excitement. "Man, that sounds like a perfect training ground befitting a sorcerer. I've gotta check it out one of these days."
Stolen story; please report.
"Let's try to stay on track." Professor Marsh's voice was as cold as ice, or rather, the blade of a well-polished sword. It effortlessly sliced their conversation in half, butter melting between the metal. "Ms. Harwood, if it's all the same with you, then I shall move onto—"
"Actually," Elaine interrupted, raising a hand, "I'm not finished yet, sir. I've still got more to say."
"Oh?" replied Professor Marsh, fostering a glare.
"Yes, sir," Elaine said. "B...But as long as it's all right with you, of course." Professor Marsh frowned annoyedly at the ticking clock strung on the wall above the classroom door. The sorcerer shrugged and nodded for Elaine to proceed. Inspiring, Elaine said, "Truth is, all of this is pretty much new to me. I'd never gotten the chance to attend such a famous academy before, and so to be scouted as a student was quite the honor. I'm sure every one of you is a talented magic user, just as I'm also sure that countless other mages should be here in my place. But I can only match your pace, and so I will try my very best to do so. Until the curtains close on our time together, I hope we can all study well as classmates and sorcerers."
Elaine bowed her head respectfully at the class before sinking back into her seat, the chair creaking beneath her. No sooner had she settled than a wave of humiliation crashed over her like icy water. She hadn’t anticipated her introduction to come off as so stiff and rehearsed. Despite everything she had shared, she realized she hadn’t touched on the reasons for enrolling in the academy or her aspirations for the future. Overwhelmed, she buried her face in her arms on the desk, feeling the familiar sting of embarrassment. Stealing a furtive glance to her left, Elaine saw the large kid with curly dark hair slouched in his own seat beside her. His eyes bore into her with a blank, almost lifeless gaze that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. Just as she opened her mouth to say something—anything—to bridge the awkward silence, she was taken aback when he unexpectedly responded with an approving nod. To her surprise, the corners of his mouth began to lift into a faint smile, a small gesture that felt like a lifeline amid her humiliation.
His name was Mason. When he had introduced himself, he spoke in a powerful, low-toned voice. He didn't delve much into his personal life or seem interested in drawing out a conversation. Mason merely confirmed his name as it was called, provided a brief insight into his hometown, and then sat back down. At first, Elaine was somewhat put off by the quiet giant. But that smile, it painted a different picture. There was kindness, sincerity to it. If only Elaine could deduce a way to strum up a conversation with him in a manner that was neither incredibly forced nor incredibly artificial.
As the students in the final rows of the class began spouting out their introductions—Fearne presented hers with an accidental eep! accompanied by a whimper—Elaine came to the startling conclusion that the vast majority of her classmates were...odd. Yes, that was the best way she could describe them. They were goldbloods. They were rich. They had an aptitude for magic. But they were odd. Elaine initially thought she'd be the outsider, the deviant, the stranger. She was a lowborn; she must never forget that she was a lowborn. Nevertheless, the more she heard her classmates speak, the more she learned of their yearnings, their passions, so did she realize just how unorthodox they all were. Nobles were known for being flamboyant and eccentric, and sure, that might have applied to a few of the students present with her.
But most behaved in a manner not dissimilar to the kids she had grown up with in the dust-laden streets of Page. There was a scrappiness to them, a feistiness akin to an agitated bushgoblin. This wasn't your conventional class of nobles—though Elaine had little idea of what that might entail—but a different breed entirely, a mix of resilience and audacity she found both intriguing and bewildering. Pseudo-nobles, if such a term even made a lick of sense in this context. They weren't like the polished students she had encountered around the sprawling campus or at the marketplace. No, these individuals exuded a raw Essence, one not confined to the rigid structures of a fireplace but instead soaring untamed down the winding path of a hybrid forest ablaze with colors and life. They had an intensity that flared like the flames, wild and unpredictable. Elaine wasn't entirely positive if this exhilarating unpredictability was reassuring or not.
"Well, that seems to be everyone," Professor Marsh sighed, his voice heavy as he swept a bored gaze over the attendance sheet in his hands. "Now then, it’d be beneficial for you all to understand how we operate here at Glyph Academy. From what I can gather, based on your introductions, this room isn’t short of ambition. That’s good, but ambition alone can only carry you so far. The professors at this academy, myself included, take immense pride in molding some of the most powerful sorcerers that Incante has ever witnessed. However," he continued, his tone shifting to one of gravity, "if we deem you unfit or unworthy of walking these halls where legends were forged, well, suffice to say you likely won't find your time here particularly enjoyable." An uncomfortable chill prickled Elaine's skin, and she flinched, sensing a cold thorn stabbing at her nape. Was her imagination playing tricks, or was the Abyssal Sorcerer directing a heated glare specifically at her? An uneasy sensation rolled over her, akin to the sickly feeling she experienced after overeating too quickly. "It might only be your first week, but I advise you to make a remarkable first impression on all of your professors. Demonstrate your determination—show us that you belong in our classes, that you’re earnest in your desire to learn, and that your acceptance here was not a mistake."
Another shiver coursed through Elaine as the professor's intense gaze seemed to linger on her for a moment longer before he shifted his focus. What was that about...?
"This academy values honor more than anything else," he stated, his eyes narrowing slightly as if judging the very essence of their characters. "Apply this principle to every aspect of your life, and perhaps you just might survive." The weight of his words settled over the room, an echo of promise and warning, as the students exchanged anxious glances, each feeling the gravity of the path ahead.
"Survive?" uttered Custas, chuckling nervously to himself. "You're being hyperbolic, aren't you, sir?"
Professor Marsh didn't respond to the question. "Your regular classes will begin in the next five minutes or so. Good luck," he said as he strode to the door.
"Wait, sir!" called Adeline, the auburn-haired girl sitting closer to the front of the class. She raised a hand above her head, and her voice attuned to a purposeful note. "You've gotten to know a little about all of us, haven't you?" she asked him. "Don't you think it's also appropriate that you tell us a bit about yourself as well?"
Professor Marsh paused a breath from the door, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "Me?"
"You are our homeroom teacher," Adeline said. "Not to mention you're also a famous Professional Sorcerer. Naturally, as your students, we'd at least be interested in what you would have to say."
"Yeah, I agree!" Rayla exclaimed, clapping her hands. She was a fair-skinned girl with a round face framed by a cascade of shortly-trimmed reddish-blonde hair that barely brushed her shoulders. However, what captivated Elaine most was the girl's striking pair of ruby-tinted eyes. She must be a foreigner, a thought that crossed Elaine's mind with a twinge of curiosity. Perhaps she hailed from Ekenthall, a place Elaine had read about where red-colored eyes were a common and intriguing trait. "I gotta know, teach, are the stories about you true!" she called at him, her face flowering with elated wonder. "That you're one of the best sorcerers around!"
"Eh, it's not like it'd kill you or anything," Jack added, folding his arms.
"So, you want to know about me? Is that it?" Professor Marsh said, arcing his neck. He glanced at the bird on his shoulder, and when it made a click with its beak, the sorcerer expelled a sigh. "Let's see, I guess you could say I'm practical. From what I've gathered thus far, my first impression of this class is that...well, how do I put this? You're a bunch of imbeciles."
At least he's being honest, Elaine thought.
"Still, I'd be lying if I were to say I didn't sense a great deal of potential from you. But passions and desires hardly matter if you don't possess the talent to make them real," he muttered, gripping the handle and creaking open the door. "Personally, I couldn't care less about what your dreams are. They interest me not. Prove to me that you have the willpower to commit to this journey. Resolve is what I value most in a student, boys and girls. But if you can't keep up with the rest of the herd, I won't hesitate to cut you loose myself." The Abyssal Sorcerer shut the door behind him with a slam, and the class was again banished into empty, wordless space. Was that meant to be inspirational? Judging from her classmates' frowns and uneasy side-glances, it seemed to generate the opposite effect.
"Ha! What a nifty guy," grinned Custas.
"More like creepy," Rayla said, giddily hugging herself. "But it should be interesting to have someone like him as our homeroom teacher, don't you think?"
"He's testing us," Adeline said, loud enough for all of them to hear. "Testing to see if we're worthy of being his students. That just now wasn't a greeting, nor was it a warning. More than anything, it was a threat. If we don't meet his expectations, I have no doubt he'll make good on his word."
"Then he really was telling the truth?" asked Fearne. She sounded nervous, and Elaine couldn't blame her. She herself was struggling to soothe the trembling in her chest.
"Yes," Adeline confirmed. "Should we fail to impress him, then I dare say none of us will last very long at this academy."
Elaine gulped. So this is what Hound was talking about, she thought, a wobbly smile spreading on her face. Glyph Academy was a battleground, a war for survival. Forget purchasing a wand holster or struggling to find her homeroom on time. Her real troubles, so it seemed, had only just begun.
