Two weeks had passed since the festival at the Ducal Institute, a grand event that had drawn nobles from across the empire, including my parents. The memories of that night lingered—the conversations with the new director, Viktor Halloran, the enigmatic exchanges with Amelia, and the intriguing presence of Lady Seraphine, my classmate.
Adjusting to academy life had been both challenging and invigorating. The mornings were dedicated to theoretical classes, where scholars imparted knowledge on a range of subjects critical to our development as future leaders. Afternoons were reserved for sword practice, honing our martial skills under the watchful eyes of seasoned instructors.
I found myself particularly drawn to the history classes taught by Professor Alphonse. His lectures delved deep into the annals of our world, unearthing tales of lost bloodlines and forgotten professions that once held immeasurable glory but had faded into obscurity.
"Today," Professor Alphonse began, his voice resonating through the grand lecture hall, "we explore the legacy of the Ancient Alchemists, the Spiritists, and the Astronomers—professions that not only shaped our history but also guided the very fate of our civilizations."
He gestured toward a massive tapestry depicting a constellation of stars intertwined with alchemical symbols.
"The Ancient Alchemists," he continued, "were more than mere potion-makers. They sought the essence of life itself, striving to unlock the secrets of immortality and the transmutation of matter. Their contributions laid the foundations for modern science and magic, yet much of their knowledge has been lost to time."
Kira, seated beside me, leaned in. "Fascinating, isn't it? Imagine what we could achieve with that knowledge today."
I nodded, my mind racing. My own alchemical pursuits had yielded remarkable results, but the idea of accessing ancient wisdom stirred a deep curiosity.
Professor Alphonse moved on to the Spiritists. "These were individuals attuned to the harmonies of the world's forces. Through meditation and rituals, they could divine potential catastrophes, guiding their people to safety. They served as the spiritual guardians of their societies."
Cedric raised a hand. "Professor, what led to the decline of these professions?"
"A profound question," the professor acknowledged. "Several factors contributed—wars, cataclysms, the suppression of knowledge by those in power, and the natural ebb and flow of civilizations. As societies advanced technologically, they often abandoned the old ways, dismissing them as superstition."
I couldn't help but draw parallels to the present. The weakening of bloodlines, the loss of ancient abilities—it seemed history was repeating itself.
"And then there were the Astronomers," Professor Alphonse continued. "Not merely stargazers, they possessed the ability to interpret celestial patterns, guiding intelligent races in their quest for survival. Their insights were invaluable during times of crisis."
He turned to a detailed star map projected onto the wall. "The classification of bloodlines also plays a significant role in our history. Ancestral bloodlines date back to the dawn of civilization, imbued with potent abilities and connections to mythical creatures. Ancient bloodlines emerged later, carrying significant power but often specialized. Modern bloodlines are more common, their abilities diluted over generations."
As he spoke, images of mythical beasts appeared—the Dragon Kings, majestic and fearsome; the Giants of the North, towering over landscapes; the Behemoths of the South, creatures of immense strength; and the Marine Tribes of the East, enigmatic beings of the deep.
"The Dragon Kings," the professor explained, "are said to possess wisdom beyond measure. The Giants of the North are guardians of ancient secrets. The Behemoths embody raw power, while the Marine Tribes hold dominion over the vast oceans."
The lecture then shifted to the current geopolitical landscape. "Our world is not only shaped by these ancient beings but also by the nations that have risen and fallen. The Solar Empire and the Maritime Empire are the two remaining bastions of human power, their rivalry a defining feature of our age."
He detailed the tensions between the empires—the competition for resources, influence over smaller states, and the quest for technological and magical supremacy.
"The Elven and Dwarven kingdoms," he added, "while less involved in human affairs, play their own roles. The Elves, with their affinity for magic and nature, and the Dwarves, masters of craftsmanship and engineering, are forces to be reckoned with."
As the class concluded, I felt a surge of determination. Understanding our history was crucial, not only for academic purposes but for navigating the complexities of our present and future.
Exiting the lecture hall, I was approached by Lady Seraphine. "An enlightening session, wouldn't you agree?"
"Indeed," I replied cautiously.
"One wonders," she mused, "what other lost arts might be recovered if one knew where to look."
I sensed an undercurrent to her words. "Knowledge is often hidden in the most unexpected places."
She smiled cryptically. "Perhaps we should compare notes sometime."
"I'll consider it."
As she departed, Kira and Cedric joined me.
"She's quite the enigma," Cedric remarked.
"Be careful around her," Kira advised. "Her intentions aren't always clear."
"I'll keep that in mind."
We made our way to the training grounds for our afternoon session. The clashing of swords and the shouts of exertion filled the air. While I maintained a modest façade regarding my abilities, I was acutely aware that I surpassed many of my peers, including Cedric, who was formidable in his own right.
As we sparred, I focused on refining my technique without revealing too much. My movements were precise, controlled. Cedric challenged me, his dark-attribute aura swirling as he pressed the attack.
"You're holding back," he accused good-naturedly.
"Just pacing myself," I replied with a grin.
"Don't patronize me," he laughed, launching a flurry of strikes.
I parried and sidestepped, maintaining the upper hand without making it obvious.
"Save some energy for the rest of us," Kira called from the sidelines, preparing for her own practice.
After the session, I received a discreet message from Tomas via our established communication channels. His reports were invaluable, keeping me informed about the progress of our knights-in-training and any developments in the North.
"Training proceeds well. Recruits show significant improvement. No unusual activity near the Ebonwood for now. Will continue to monitor."
I made a mental note to respond later, expressing my satisfaction and urging continued vigilance.
Returning to my quarters that evening, I reflected on the delicate balance I maintained—advancing my own capabilities while navigating the social dynamics of the institute. The knowledge from history classes fueled my desire to rediscover lost arts, potentially offering solutions to the challenges facing my family and the empire.
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.
"Come in."
Amelia entered, her demeanor composed. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"Not at all. Please, have a seat."
She settled gracefully into a chair. "I wanted to discuss an opportunity that might interest you. The institute is organizing a research project on ancient professions and their relevance today."
I leaned forward. "That does sound intriguing."
"I thought you might think so. Your insights during lectures haven't gone unnoticed."
"I appreciate the consideration."
She handed me a dossier. "This contains the details. Participation is voluntary but could be quite rewarding."
"Thank you, Amelia. I'll review it."
As she stood to leave, she added, "Sometimes, the answers we seek are hidden in the echoes of the past."
Our eyes met briefly, a silent understanding passing between us.
"Wise words," I acknowledged.
After she departed, I perused the dossier. The project entailed in-depth research into a chosen ancient profession, with access to restricted sections of the institute's library—a rare privilege.
This could be the opportunity I've been waiting for, I thought.