Ayil paused, taking notice of the flash of light pulsing through the seams of his breast pocket, he reached in to grab the source: Pae.
The Tesseract took the form of a pocket watch with countless hands, tiny gears were also visible on its surface. 'There seems to be a misunderstanding... The next appointment is not weapons training. It is the advanced literature class.' It ticked gently, gears rattling. 'The class you missed yesterday. Incidentally, it will also serve as the final appointment for today.'
"Really?" he asked, not sure if that was good or bad news. Its runes pulsed with a dull golden light, tugging a corner of his consciousness in affirmation. "...I see. Eira, listen..."
Ayil's words trailed off when he turned to Eira. Her Tesseract—which currently served as a resplendent hairpin; elegantly holding her mussy hair together—stabbed the sides of her neck with its tiny, needle claws.
Assuming it was probably informing her of the situation, he turned to his own thoughts. Particularly the punishment that could be waiting for him in just a few minutes. He shook off his nerves and fear, relaxing.
'Overthinking and stress needlessly tax the mind, adding to the torture,' Ayil thought, entering the class. 'Why worry? Indeed, it is unpleasant but pain is not something you aren't used to.'
The class was the largest yet and by far the most packed. Doing a quick estimation, he could confidently say there were at least a hundred children in the domed hall. And there were still more entering.
A man at the front, without waiting for all the children to be seated, raised his voice, "Yesterday, a lot of you were absent. Please, before you get too comfortable, come and collect one of these transgression cards."
Ayil peeked over his shoulder, looking down at the six men. He hesitated, mostly because he hadn't found a seat and the last row would probably be filled soon, partly because he was anxious.
"Save me a seat near the end," he asked Eira. She raised a brow gently, subtly forcing him to add the word: "...Please."
Eira nodded blankly.
Holding the rectangular silver-black parchment in his hand, Ayil could not stop the confusion from coloring his face. It had the words: 'First Serious Transgression,' written on it with squiggly handwriting.
"You don't want three of those," one of the men said—the one who was garbed in expensive-looking attire and adorned with countless gemstones.
"Ah," Ayil breathed, gazing back to the card. "And what happens when you receive three?"
The man gave a priceless smile; his teeth seemed to be encrusted with countless diamonds. "Well, I can't possibly say. It is a secret, after all," he said, rubbing the large sapphire gemstone on his ring. "However, if you are dying to know, you can find out by doing a single Severe Transgression."
Ayil gently dipped his head, turning his heel from the egocentric man. It didn't take long for him to spot Eira. She sat absentmindedly in the middle of the third-last row, so he had to squeeze between a few annoyed people to get to her.
"What happened?" she asked, giving him a small welcoming smile.
"Nothing... yet," Ayil replied, taking a seat next to her. He exhaled softly, sparing the Transgression card one more glance, then pocketing it. The angst in his chest slowly trickled away.
He wasn't going to die. Not yet.
The class began in earnest, the Diamond Man going off on a rant about how the Master—most probably Desoll—loved educated servants. After his vigorous speech, he ordered his servants to hand out a book of poems.
A stack of books made their way to Ayil, he took one and passed on the rest to Eira. She did the same.
"...The Final Rapture," Ayil read softly, inspecting the thin leather-bound book. It seemed brand new, the pages smooth and crease-free.
"The sixteen short poems in that book are all classic. Written by the genius Cil Herra herself," the Diamond Man said, quieting the budding noise. "You are to study and know each poem fully by the morrow. There will be follow-up assignments."
Ayil opened the book, reading the first paragraph. He frowned. The sentences, on top of being wordy and overly convoluted, could barely be considered Zorithean. There were a lot of strange characters that simply broke apart most passages.
After about twenty minutes, he stopped trying to understand. There was no way this was a real book. This had to be a means to make another bloodbath possible.
'Then, what will happen next,' Ayil thought, thinking of the most probable scenario. He glanced ahead. The Diamond Man was having a seemingly nonchalant conversation with one of his assistants. 'Are they going to...'
A baffling image caught the corner of his eyes. Beside him, Eira diligently read the book; she looked to be fully immersed.
"How can you read that?" Ayil asked in a hushed whisper, weary of the silence around them. Almost everyone was reading quietly without issue. "It's nonsense."
Eira looked at him strangely, a tinge of indignation rippling across her face.
"How can you say that? I find it quite enthralling," she said, dragging a snowy finger around the edges of the page she was reading. "It's honestly as if the author has the ability to grip your heart using her words alone... This... this is real magic."
Now Ayil was just flabbergasted. Not only was the book not blather, but it also seemed to have charmed Eira to this degree...
Something wasn't right. Fortunately, the bell rang, pulling him out of his reverie.
With the final lesson over, Ayil lead the green-eyed blonde to the grassy field surrounding the building they slept in. He sneakily shot glances at Eira, checking to see if her eyes weren't glowing or something.
"So that book," he said, sitting on the grassy floor, the earthy scent calming, "isn't cursed or anything, is it?"
"Excuse me?" Eira asked with a deadpan expression, lowering the book from her field of vision. "Care to elaborate?"
"You've been staring at it the entire time," he continued. "I was thinking some of the books might be enchanted with Kallomancy—perhaps even Taramancy. This way, the 'staff' could force the hypnotized 'students' to attack the lucid ones. You know, make a show of it."
"...Enchanted books? Mind control?" Eira said, staring at him. She let out a little breath, amused. "Kind sir, I know enough about sorcery to tell you: 'enchanting' books is quite impossible. As for the latter theory, it's far too complex to be achieved by getting someone to read a good book."
Sensing the playful, mocking tone in her voice, Ayil's face flushed slightly with embarrassment.
"...Then explain this: why don't the text in my copy of the book make any sense?" he said, holding up the book.
"May I see that for a moment?" She grabbed the book, silently scanning a few pages. About two minutes passed before Eira parted her lips again. "...Are you perhaps illiterate? The sentences make perfect sense."
Ayil fell silent.
"It's nothing to be ashamed about," Eira chimed, mistaking his speechless expression for embarrassment. "I knew quite a lot of elderly in my Village that didn't know how to read or write."
Ayil shook his head gently. "That's not it. I've never been overconfident in my reading... but to think, even after those harsh lessons, that bastard only taught me this much... I can't even read a short book..."
No. That didn't make sense. Didn't Kazerk give him lashings when he couldn't recite summaries of his journal entries?. How could an accomplished merchant be illiterate? Did he simply cipher his arcane writings?
"Ayil?" Eira said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Don't worry too much. I can read to you later tonight. It would be my pleasure."
"Oh," he breathed, almost declining the offer, but then he remembered his First Transgression. "Speaking of tonight; let's talk about the reason we're sitting out here. We need to watch for security... and completely familiarize ourselves with the facilities."
Eira nodded, but it didn't take long for her to go back to reading. Not that it made a difference. So far he couldn't see any of the 'staff' patrolling the grounds, only children wandered the premises.
He also knew what all the buildings were used for; the building at the very center was where the classes and cafeteria were built in. The buildings towering at the left and right wings of the center building were the children's quarters. At the very back, near the edges of the woods, was the staff building.
Eira suddenly stood, stretching out and yawning. "I'm off to a long slumber," she said. "Though I'll be up by dinner."
When her presence disappeared into the building behind him, Ayil's mind swam. He didn't really think much of it because of the sheer absurdity of the situation, but... where did all these children come from? How did the Imperial authorities not notice the kidnapping of hundreds of people?
'Most importantly, what part of Zorithe is this?' he thought. 'How can this place not reach the eye of the Emperor? Not to mention most of these people are Marked with Magic... Is this perhaps an Imperial camp? But Desoll's existence is a contradiction to what the Theocracy stands for... Why would they enlist that thing?'
Ayil stopped thinking for a moment, realizing the more he tried to understand the situation; the more questions arose within his mind. And quite frankly, the theories of what could be going on made less and less sense as the questions increased.
He turned his gaze skyward, appreciating the cloudless sky. The brisk winds cool the gentle heat brought by the sun, making for a relaxing afternoon.
'At least I can be sure this isn't the Nort—'
Ayil's head snapped back as his nose registered an acrid odor. His legs instinctively shot him back a few meters, before he caught a glimpse of the source of the fiery smell.
A tall man in his late teens. He had bright crimson hair and even brighter blood-red irises—strangely, his sclera was completely black. He wore black and white battle robes that clung to his robust physique.
Beside the man stood a woman. The woman's silky hair was jet-black, which was a complete contrast to her pale, sickly skin. Her lips looked as though they were drained of blood, taking the hue of the palest of purples. Her forehead—her temples especially—was inscribed with black runic tattoos. And yet, despite the ghastly appearance, no one could deny the young woman's alluring beauty. She was garbed in a loose gown that somehow accentuated her feminine curves, wrapping tightly wrapping around her ample chest.
Ayil vaguely recognized them; they attended the Arlaths sermons. But more than that—
"You were the one whose hand I almost died by," he said to the man. "I'm sure of it. I'd never forget your stench."
The man scratched his unkempt beard, apparently not feeling inclined to reply.
"Please direct your anger at me," the woman suddenly said, her voice holding slight nervous tremors—though there were none in her cloudy, bluish-grey eyes. "For I was the one who suggested he do it, in spite of his attempts at refusal."
"...Come to finish the job, eh?" Ayil asked, glaring at the woman. He was sure it would be difficult, but escaping would be quite easy. That's if these people didn't already know sorcery.
"Please, calm down. I have no intent to dispose of you here—in the open," the woman said. "As for my previous grievance... I simply saw it as a rare opportunity to kill off a dangerous competitor, quick and easy. I suppose I was too naive to think ridding the world of a Redeye would be that ever by easy."
Ayil's eye twitched at the mention of the term, but he managed to hold back his urges.
"...Speak," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you want?"
The woman straightened her posture, clearing her throat softly. "You may not know this, Redeye, but I am a very efficient being," she said. "Recently, I have been given a very arduous task. The details of which you're familiar with. I was thinking that your assistance—no matter how little—would make for the most optimum results."
A cold sneer hung from Ayil's lips when he realized what the sickly woman's long-winded monologue was hinting at.
"To ask me for help? No... perhaps you want to 'force' what I know about Soul Shards out of me," he mumbled, brushing back his bangs with a hand, gaze drifting to the sky. There, a pitch-black sphere grew vigorously, bubbling with his flaring rage. "...I really want to kill the both of you. It's driving me insane."
He returned his wandering gaze. The woman tugged on her black gloves, the crimson-haired man simply stared down at him with aloofness in his eyes.
"...But," Ayil continued, "I'm not confident in my ability to accomplish that burning desire. You said you worked efficiently, correct? Then why don't we have a mutual agreement."
"...That would be most logical," the woman said, visibly relaxing.
"Good. Unfortunately, my 'partner' is not present," he said, taking in a long, trembling breath. "You will have to return at a later hour or day. Whenever she is around, I'll be ready to talk."
She hesitated, but then nodded softly, walking away with the boorish man.
'As I thought, she's wary of Eira,' Ayil thought, watching them walk away. He shook his head. '...That was needlessly risky. I should have just run. What if they attacked you after that little stunt.'
He could've turned into a monster from the backlash of carelessly wielding KalloSyth. Or they could've killed him outright.
"Ah, but if I just turned tail, sleep would elude me for God knows how long," Ayil muttered, moving to his building. He scratched his head dumbly. "Let's call this a 'risk worth taken'... As contradictory as that sounds, it has quite the ring to it."