#Clara Aether#
"As you know, the magic formula we use is an adaptive method, it's a method that allows us to absorb mana that should suit most mages. If a mana that does not align with your attribute goes into your circuits, you will be paralyzed. When you get into the later years at this school, you will start specializing this formula to suit your own attributes," teacher Tamryn, our magic arts teacher, majestically writes on the blackboard, "this adaptive formula will be inefficient, but will prove to be a useful foundation for your later courses. There are other types of magic like prayer or invocative but for now, just copy me."
It was the end of our magic theory unit, we were to be tested soon. This last piece of content is something I must memorize! I thought to myself. I've searched whole libraries in search of my magic but to no avail. With this, I'll be one step closer.
Teacher Tamryn, puts his palms facing towards each other, leaving some distance in between. He lashes out a white wire from thin air and wraps around it in a weird pattern, resembling some calligraphic circle full of shapes inside.
"Can anyone tell me the reason why this technique is inefficient?"
I peer closer at the magic circle. I could notice the white, intangible particles being concentrated and running through both of his palms and into his body.
Isn't it already effective enough to be able to absorb this much? Is it because he's the teacher?
"Because you're absorbing non-attribute mana?" Isla responds after some thought.
"Correct. Everyone has an aptitude for certain elements of mana. But to determine the aptitude, we must recall the different properties that non-attribute mana has," the teacher says while writing a table on the board, "we have three categories, kinetic – having the ability to enact a form of movement, spatial – the ability to influence appearance, and lastly, physical – the ability to change an object's property. So if a wind attribute mage were to absorb an illusive type," he then draws an explosion and the whole class stays silent as we observe his excellent artistic skill.
We all look at the two way table that Teacher Tamryn is setting up.
"Kinetic manipulation is the most abundant, then physical, and lastly illusive. If we know the different properties of mana, we can find our aptitude with a measuring orb to determine the percentage our attributes are lying towards," The teacher pulls out an orb, showing three decimals, "when we know the percentage of aptitude, we will set a filter with our equation. Write this down since this is important!"
I quickly write the equation down from the board.
After theory class, I had weapons class, which I had no friends in. I have one if I consider Marcus a friend, which is…
I shake my head.
Because we were transitioning from first to second years, the curriculum allows us to progress from theory to practical.
"Listen up young ones! You have learnt your theory! You have the knowledge!" our weapons teacher walks around and examines everyone, "But you have yet to hold a weapon, and only then will you find out the path you will take!" the teacher waved his hand at the shed. Knowing what sword I already had in mind, I went over to test the other weapons I hadn't a chance to swing.
I tried using the great-sword and to my expectation, it was too heavy for me to keep up in combat. The mace? I couldn't control it. Dagger, too light and awkward. Holding a dagger made me look like some sort of crook.
I look around to see many boys with a similar choice. I play around with sword. Its weight was heavier than a rapier. Slow but not too light. A knight's sword…
I wonder if that's what Marcus picked…
"If everyone has decided, we shall have a mock spar. This will be your first time handling a weapon. You will wear this vest and for your information, the blades are dull so don't worry about breaking the vest!" Our instructor bellows, "Pair up and practice. Go, go!"
The ants shuffled to find their partner. I look for Marcus.
What if he had a partner already?
"Lady Clara, allow me to have the honour to be your partner." A guy walks up and kneels on the floor. He reaches his hand out as if wanting me to accept.
"Lady Clara, forget about that guy, go with me." Another guy copies their stance.
"Lady Clara-" another starts to mutter.
I don't reply, instead I walk away as more people start to gravitate towards me. I want Marcus to be my partner, not a guy who'd be showing his status with pride. There were more things I'd like to discuss with him. Like what happened that night. What if he already has a partner? Wouldn't I look weird? What if he says no?
A hand rests on shoulders and I reflexively turn around, looking for my perpetrator. It was Marcus, who had a perplexed look on his face. I relaxed and sighed in relief. "Haha, sorry to scare you. Do you have a partner?" He asks. I nod in disagreement waiting for his invitation. Only to not receive it.
"How's your day been Clara…" Marcus asks me.
Aren't you going to ask me? I think as I replied. This guy.
"Mine's pretty good…"
Is he nervous?
I press my hand against his shoulders. Taken by surprise, his body tenses. That tells about it.
"C-Clara what's the meaning of this?" He stutters laughably.
He's not going to ask if I don't.
"Let's practice together," I lead him to a space where we both unsheathe our blades.
Marcus chose the same sword I was looking at earlier. I chuckle to myself and get in position.
"What's with the laugh?" Marcus questions, "I don't have something on my face, right?" He panics as he frantically wipes his face in all directions.
"None of the sort," I reply.
Marcus calms down and clasps his two hands onto his sword, standing square towards me.
"You have never held a blade before," I stated.
"How'd you know?"
"Your stance," I inspected, "it's all too fragile." I rush into him, and he reacts. We clash our swords and I step back while Marcus nearly topples over. He recollects himself and changes his stance. His posture changes, his body leaning slightly forward, he grapples himself to the ground.
"Already looking better," I compliment as I went in for another bout.
This time he doesn't waver. He keeps his eyes pried open and stares at the path my sword would take. I clash my sword into his and he pushes back. I shift my weight backwards, making him fall forward face into the ground but he doesn't complain. "Again," he says, and I wait for him to get up for the next bout.
No longer was he falling from our first clash, he was matching my pace. Each flurry of exchanges led to another. I smiled as I landed one blow after the next. Marcus, I thought, was an excellent sparring partner. He neither gave up like others did nor was he stubborn. In my eyes, he was eager to learn and that made it very interesting to see his progression.
By the time our training session had ended, Marcus could no longer get up. He laid himself on the cobblestone ground as he panted with exhaustion, his sweat enough to fill a pool.
"Would you like some water?" I asked Marcus, the fish. He nodded in desperation as he reached his hand out to some illusion of his, waving his canteen in the air.
⁜⁜⁜
Tired, I walked slowly towards the water pump to fill our canteens, then I heard a loud thud, and then a rapid succession of others shortly after.
I went to discover the sound. A small library with its bookshelf toppled over, crushing many books in its fall.
The books twitched slightly, and I see as the veil of pages reveal a man underneath the mountain of books. I rush to help him as he wheezes with every passing second.
"It's here somewhere…" he groans as he frantically rummages through the pile of books, "help me!"
Before I could respond, he tosses me a handful of books, each one barely hitting the ground as I caught each one with every part of my body, "Hey! Watch it!"
But he doesn't listen. He continues his search completely ignorant of me. I've never seen someone so disrespectful at the academy! The academy of all places! I feel a hint of annoyance.
His clothes, unlike his personality, was not ragged and I catch a glimpse of a tattoo underneath his rolled sleeves. "That is against the school rules." I speak up while pointing at his arm. Finally.
He turns and faces me as if telling me to pipe down. I was annoyed. People like this exist? But upon closer inspection, I recognised a part of his tattoo. A sun, and a moon together. Just like the ones in the manual father gave me. What is that symbol doing here?
"What are you looking for?" I finally get my question out.
"The trace left by my teacher," he says, "but you won't understand it. Now go along."
And as if fate decided, the bell rang.
"That's your cue, you should go back to class," he says as he puts the last of the fallen books into his shelf and just 'ups' and 'goes' without waiting one second.
⁜⁜⁜
The following day, I searched for him. The library we met in the day before was left intact. He mentioned he was searching for something. Maybe that was why he was in a library.
There were multiple stores of books in the school, and the best place was the book club's room only accessible by their club members. It was incomparable to the school library. Although small, they had many quality books covering a variety of topics. If anything, he should be there.
The only problem was getting access.
"Is it worth your time?" Isla responds to my plan with a weak voice.
"Yes," I said with confidence. There must be a link. My only lead to my sword technique.
"If you say so, but why do you want to find him so much?" Isla asks.
"I want to ask him something."
"About?"
I stay silent and finish washing up. "You're pretty rushed," she exclaims as she too gets up and rubs her eyes, "you gotta slow down sometimes. Just take it easy."
"You're just slow," I state. Though we had always been friends, I had never once doubted that she was a heavy sleeper. The bright and cheery Isla had become like a sloth every morning, "come on, let's get ready." Isla complains again but reluctantly gets up.
I head out of our dorm while Isla saunters behind me.
"So, who are we looking for again?"
"A teacher."
"And why?"
I pause. "I need to ask him something."
"Where are we going?"
"His office," I said as my patience slowly waning. And we checked. Every. Single .One. But he was nowhere to be seen.
If my hunch was correct, then we'd need permission from the club.
The only problem was that I hadn't a faintest idea of who these club members were. It is said that there are five in each year, each of the 2nd and 1st years were said to be handpicked by the 3rd years in hopes of safeguarding information. To be accurate, this club is not a library club. It's a convergence of intellectual people, each wanting to broaden their minds, writing down their discoveries and theories none of which is ever published nor known to the world. Their goal isn't attention or contribution, they're just trading knowledge and leaving it as a legacy to future students.
So being granted access to such a secretive group is nigh-
"Impossible" Isla says after listening to my rant.
"We can't give up yet."
"You mean You can't give up," she corrects, "But there isn't a reason to not let you?"
I stop to think. Top student in the school joining such a group? It'll attract more attention and it would push their criteria. It would mean that the less academically intelligent people would be able to pass around information.
Isla nods and responds, "which means that the quality of information circulating will decrease. Though I do think it's a bit of stretch. Wouldn't hurt to try though."
"Yeah," I respond with little effort, more curious as to how Isla read my mind.
"We should start by asking people."
I freeze. Ask?
"Come on let's go," Isla starts homing on the nearest person. I stand beside and slightly behind her.
We spend the rest of the day asking away.
"You didn't have to help me that much…"
Isla shoots a glare and opens her mouth, "I should at least do that much! Besides, it's not like you're going to ask anyone am I right?"
I agree with silence. She chuckles, "we should head back." No leads today. At this rate, I'll never get to ask about his symbol. Where he got it from.
But as make our way past a corridor, a voice omits behind us. "You've been looking for our club members all day."
We turn around only to face an empty corridor.
"You'll never find them at this rate, so tell me," a gust of wind winds up from both ends of the corridor, "what do you want?"
Isla, confused where to step, backs up against a wall.
"I want to get access to your library."
"We have no library."
"Lies."
"We really don't. Why do you insist?"
"Then how do you share all your knowledge."
The wind pauses, "you must swear to never speak about this."
"I swear."
"Come with me" a gust of air transforms into a flat plane. It suddenly lifts our bodies and it takes us to somewhere.
Far away.
⁜⁜⁜