As soon as everyone finished eating, Arthur and Morgan excused themselves, claiming they needed to prepare for their first Forge Master and Master Alchemy lessons. The truth was, engaging in mundane conversation about anything but magic made them want to rip their ears off.
"Damn it! Now I remember why I avoided babysitting jobs back on Earth unless I was desperate for cash," Arthur muttered. "Kids are so annoying—always worried about what others think, obsessing over the stupidest things."
As they walked toward their room, they noticed a group of four—a girl and three boys—pinning another girl against the wall. The situation quickly escalated from intimidation to outright violence. Arthur didn't break stride, merely throwing a disdainful glance over his shoulder.
"Shouldn't we do something? Four against one is unfair," Morgan asked, her voice tight with unease.
"Life's unfair," Arthur replied without missing a step. "I don't know her, and I don't care to. Even if I stopped them, they'd just come after her later, twice as hard. If she's too foolish to take a Ballot and protect herself, that's her problem. I'm not running a shelter for idiots."
Morgan's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't argue. They reached their room in silence, each lost in thought. Arthur showered first, letting the water wash away the tension. As he dried off, his mind wandered to the upcoming lessons. How much of their talent and knowledge was it safe to reveal?
The first gong sounded, signaling fifteen minutes until the next period.
Arthur and Morgan bolted from the room, flying at full speed when they realized their classes weren't in traditional classrooms but specialized training halls. The Forge Master and Alchemy labs were adjacent, allowing students from both specializations to mingle between lessons. When they landed, both doors were still closed, and a buzz of anticipation filled the air.
"I'm really looking forward to the Alchemy lesson," Morgan said, glancing at the lab doors. "Who knows? Maybe we could combine what we learn—create single-use weapons for when we're out of mana."
Arthur smirked. "Single-use weapons, huh? Why not go big? Let's make something that could level a battlefield."
Morgan's laugh came through their bond, light but tinged with focus. "Why stop there? Let's invent something catastrophic enough to make spells obsolete."
Their telepathic connection wavered, the magical interference from White Griffon Castle dulling their usual clarity. It felt like trying to talk in a crowded club—possible, but requiring effort. Despite the distance, Arthur could sense Morgan's growing excitement; her lesson seemed to have started already.
Arthur leaned against the cold stone wall, observing the students milling about. The Forge Master hall's massive double doors loomed before him, embossed with glowing runes that pulsed faintly. The runes hinted at the immense magical power contained within, making even Arthur's fingers itch with curiosity.
Before he could dwell on the thought, the doors creaked open. Warm air, thick with the scent of molten metal and sulfur, spilled into the corridor. A grizzled man emerged, his beard like strands of charred steel. His sharp eyes swept over the gathered students, brimming with authority.
"Forge Master candidates!" he barked. "Inside. No stragglers."
Arthur joined the crowd filing into the hall. The space was vast, dominated by three rows of gleaming black tables, each equipped with tools and a shimmering inkwell. Nearby, rows of anvils stood like sentinels, flanked by roaring forges. Sparks danced through the air, and the rhythmic clang of hammers created a symphony of industry. Each station hummed with faint magic, a testament to the fusion of craft and enchantment.
At the front of the room stood the instructor, his presence as commanding as the enchanted suit of armor beside him. The armor pulsed with energy, its runes glowing faintly as though alive.
"Hello boys and girls. My name is Professor Alexander Wanemyre, and I will be your instructor in the path towards becoming Forgemaster. My class will be different from all the others you follow, because forge mastering is different from any kind of magic you have ever learned. You have just taken your first steps in the seventh department of the white, the crafting department."
Professor Alexander Wanemyre was a man in his early thirties, 1.65 meters (5'5") tall, with black hair. He was wearing a leather apron over the hammer on his tool belt and black working gloves on his hands.
"So many mages are so fixated on elemental magic, that they never mention the arts of crafting to their disciples. So, I applaud you for choosing a specialization that is too often inglorious and underestimated, rather than a specialization that can only blow things up with fire and lightning like most of your peers. Contrary to what you may have heard or imagined, Forge Mastering doesn't require a forge, a hammer, or ingredients. Sure, some properly magic-imbued items like mana crystals or the fur of a magical or emperor beast can improve the results, but that's material for another lesson. Let's start with the basics. Which of you went ahead and learned about forgemastering from our book?"
It was mostly a rhetorical question, the books had been delivered just the day before and between the classes and the self-study, he wasn't expecting much. Yet a couple of hands were raised.
"The early bird gets the worm! Good. Describe to the class how a generic forge mastering spell works." He was pointing at a fifteen-year-old boy with red hair, the only one to have raised his hand beside Arthur.
"Uhhh, well, uhm… first you need to draw a circle, and… uhm." He had actually just skimmed the first pages and had raised his hand to make an impression on the Professor. He never expected to be questioned.
Wanemyre shook his head.
'So typical of teenagers, always thinking with their head in the pants first. At least this time I only got two posers.' He thought.
"You, with the mean eyes, mind stepping in?" Arthur ignored the remark, replying promptly.
"Forgemastering requires drawing two magic circles, one inscribed into the other, with a series of magical runes between them. The number and type of runes depends on the nature of the enchantment being applied.
"The circles must be perfectly drawn with no imperfections, and even their radii matter. They must be as close as possible to the size of the item that is going to be enchanted."
Wanemyre whistled in surprise and approval. "Very well said. Where is your book, by the way?"
"It's all in here." Arthur tapped his temple with the right forefinger.
'There's no sense in taking the book out. Until it's in Soluspedia, I can quote it word by word.' He thought.
"Really?" The Professor raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Then do you mind drawing the dimensional amulet circle for the class? Page 22, diagram 4." He sneered.
While everyone was flipping through their books, Arthur closed in on Wanemyre, who pointed him to a flask holding a pungent-smelling liquid.
'I wish Solus was here. She would be laughing like a madwoman, mocking me for my know-it-all façade.' For the first time in so many years, Arthur felt alone, and he didn't like that feeling. Not one bit.
The room was so silent that he could listen to the steady beating of his own heart. There was no voice in his head, cheering for him or trying to make him laugh; everything felt pointless and hollow.
With a series of gestures, several drops of the liquid flew into the air thanks to water magic, splashing on several points of the perfectly smooth white stone table between Arthur and the Professor.