The ink flowed lifelessly on the paper as the pen reached the surface, and the words came out followed by a stroke from the wrist. This was an exercise Sofia has mastered thanks to her boundless hours of scribbling on paper in her spare time. The pen fits perfectly in her hand as if it were custom-made for her. For some reason, holding the pen gave her comfort.
Next to her, the sounds of scribbling on paper buzzed into the tightly cramped classroom. The nearby fire provided much-needed warmth on this chilly autumn day. Sofia's normal mood was lifted by the calmness and soothing feeling emanating from this classroom.
Yet, Sophie only scribbled on paper for so long before a sigh came. She shook her head and, with both hands, cleaned her eyes as she tried to keep herself awake. but it seems it was more to hide the tears than to keep her eyelids open.
The scene didn't hide from Eri's diligent attention. She put down her pen, not in the least concerned that teacher Trent would notice her unapproved break. Eri's arm reached for Sophia and shook her back and forth. in hopes of pulling her out of whatever state she was in.
This had been effective, as Sofia refocused on her best friend beside her.
"Are you okay, Sofia?"
"Just sleepy." Sofia yawned.
"You ought to get some sleep, Sofia; staying up late is not good for you," Eri mentioned.
"Don't worry, I am well aware."
Sophia patted her head in an attempt to fully wake herself up, and with a big breath in, she lifted her pen and started scribbling on the paper with more diligence than before. Although Sofia was focused on practising her writing, Eri could see that Sofia was still observing her best friend in her peripheral vision.
Eri was well aware of this because they had been together for far longer than she could remember. But Eri has no idea what was on Sofia's mind, but she knows she must respect her boundaries. If one doesn't wish for others to know, she would gladly abide by the decision.
The chatterboxes in his classroom rarely escaped Kent's observant eyes. And that little scene surely didn't escape the Lord's attention. But he paid no heed to it, as another matter was worrying the Lord's mind. The invitation to Kirmingford is just as troubling as tendering for his class—devilishly troublesome.
The lord's heart was not fully put into delivering his best teaching to his literature students, but surely diplomatic concerns can be an excuse for this drop in quality. Kent looked out the window at the low-hanging clouds outside, which were gloomy like his mood; the weather certainly knows how to portray his own emotions.
Kent stood up, and out of boredom and in a repetition of his general habits, he started walking beside the rows of tables in the classroom. The Lord observed the progress of each student. The sharp ends of the feather pen scratched the parchment paper, emitting a brutal high-pitched sound, but it appears that the sound was something the students grew accustomed to as they adapted to filter out this mundane sound.
Perhaps it was just an illusion, but Kent could have sworn that the students sat straighter when he walked near them; this humoured him to some degree. Seeing them flinch in nervousness reminded him of himself when he attended school. This must be why teachers always walked during classes. It was a small action, but it also had great and devastating effects.
Who could have imagined that such a small action could ensure students are diligent, on course, and motivated in their tasks? All but one…
Sofia, the gem of the class, as Kent has secretly nicknamed her, is the student that the Lord himself is perhaps most highly anticipating. This little girl has a natural cognition of literature, and with her talent, she was not short on diligence either. which is just evident by the writer's bump on her middle finger. As for how many hours she spent dedicated to refining her craft, even Kent has no idea. But it was bound to be much, much more than Kent's hours spent on teaching.
But something affected today's class. Sofia's peripheral vision was clearly on the Lord, something that Kent picked up on from Eri's mention. Sofia was always secretive about her thoughts, but now that Kent thinks about it, she rarely shows her inner thoughts.
Sofia was evidently scribbling on parchment, though at a pace that made it clear she was not fully paying attention. From the earlier conversation that the chatterboxes had, as a teacher, he would be unqualified if he did not even have the faintest idea of what is happening in each of his students' minds: their concerns, what is distracting them, etc. But he must never put them under any pressure if they refuse to share.
And, even if Kent wants to disturb and interrogate Sofia, it will be inappropriate at this time. Though he is unsure of the exact time, which is problematic given that the clock has not yet been invented, the sun was reaching roughly its highest point, indicating that it is nearing midday. The rays of the sun transgressed through the window and shone onto the skin of the Lord, and warmth filled him like a warm embrace that he had been searching for.
The class started in the morning and has continued until now, and from the lord's vision, he could discern that fatigue was slowly surfacing from each of his students. This was certainly not helped by the long class hours Kent has imposed to ensure the graduation of his students could be completed before the start of spring.
But prolonging the class will no longer be helpful. The efficiency is dropping, and the impatience is slowly surfacing to a level that even Kent could easily sense.
Facing away from the window, Kent clapped twice, clearly and crisply, for all to hear. He diverted their attention from the parchment paper in front of them to the teacher at the podium."This concludes the end of class; pick up your materials when you leave; remember to practise at home, and revise for the next lesson's content."
At once, a quiet classroom filled with scribbles was immediately overcome by a flurry of cheerful voices, celebrating the conclusion of the class. The hurried packing of the materials into their bags muffled even the teacher's voice before he finished his announcement.
Students rose from their seats one by one and exited the class. Some students waited for their friends for their joint journey home; others immediately dashed out of the main entrance. Whether those that were eager to leave the classroom were hurrying home to study or to meet their family, Kent was unsure.
But he is certainly aware of what he will do next.
That sense of deception... that false mask put on when there's something to conceal. That experience is clearer to Kent than any other. something proved by his own experience. As the memories of the past surfaced in his mind, the Lord was aggrieved at his past life, but he was sure that if he could somehow change the past, he would certainly do so.
But scientific limitations prevented him from doing so; however, if someone else is experiencing the same traumatic experience, particularly one of the students, his urgency and duty compel him to act.
Perhaps he is selfish, intruding into other people's businesses to satisfy his desires, but surely one could understand, right?
Withdrawing upstairs to his private teacher's room, Kent chose the most mundane cloak he could find, a mundane pale dark green cloth that covered his entire body, a shirt that was no longer white due to ink and dirt smudging.
He could barely see Sofia from the upstairs window as he quickly adorned these two garments. With a jolt, he dashed downstairs, out of the classroom, and into the open streets outside the Hestanar school.
"What are you hiding, Sofia?" Kent murmured silently.
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The familiar steps from the school to her home, it has long formed a pattern in Sofia's mind. It was like a recurring pattern, a grand ordeal of tasks she had to complete each day. She has long grown familiar with the roads, more so than any other kid her age. It was an independence that was forced rather than chosen.
The stone-paved roads reverberated with the clattering of hooves as horses, passersby, and vendors travelled beside her. But the desolate crowds, even on the busiest streets, didn't startle her, even if her height muddled her sense of direction.
Even in the cluster of activity, she made her way to the market, consulting the vendors on the best buys of the day. This is something she became adept at, navigating the busy rows of commercial activities in search of a worthwhile purchase.
The oceanic smell from the shore travelled far inland, yet it was unable to mask the alluring smell of nearby treats made by the best seller in town. She looked at the unearthly treats set on display. Alluring fruit-based tarts, honey-coated apple treats, and sugar-coated fried donuts All are located in perhaps the largest store she knows. Surrounding the trade store, children and parents alike gathered around to purchase the treats.
It was well known that fatty Orskall sold the most delicious food in town. Sofia's mouth dripped in saliva as she dreamed of tasting one of those treats. For a moment, she contemplated whether she should purchase a honey-coated apple as a consolation for her efforts.
But this thought quickly evaporated from her brain as she reminded herself of what she must do. She shifted her gaze away from the enticing treats and towards the mundane groceries on display. but the price certainly did not humour Sofia.
Prices are growing and supply is short—something that everyone in Hestanar is well aware of. Still, with what she has in her pockets, she must concoct some sort of feasible meal for the night. After all, the duty rests on her shoulders.
Sofia went to every store, carefully nitpicking the best and freshest groceries that were available. As for the meat, it was only a luxury that could be purchased every so often. as the cost is unquestionably high for ordinary people like themselves
Along with her duties, she was sure to greet the various shopkeepers with whom she had long grown familiar. The shopkeepers recognised her as well. After all, there were only so many customers who were of Sophie's age.
Sophia felt the weight of what she was carrying like mountains. On her left, the bag carried the study materials: parchment paper, ink, and a feather pen, as well as her jacket. On her right was a bag containing fresh new groceries, which Sofia picked.
Both hands were tasked with their respective duties. Sofia couldn't quite discern how much she had brought. But with her experience, she could roughly tell if she had brought enough for the night by how much the bag weighed.
"That should be enough," Sofia thought.