Doggone Academy

“I’m leaving at dawn tomorrow. After that, I can’t be sure when I’ll return. It might be years before we see each other again. By then, you probably won’t be here either…”

“Yes.”

“Can you come to say goodbye at dawn?”

“…No.”

We could no longer share the same connection as before, yet we were childhood friends who had spent a long time together. But I couldn’t manage a prepared farewell. I didn’t want to blubber shamefully in the face of final departure.

Liza lowered her head. The moonlight was briefly obscured by clouds, darkening our surroundings. I couldn’t see the expression on her face.

“…Alright. I should head back now. So this is goodbye here.”

“Yes…. Take care, Liza.”

“You too. You must stay healthy. I hope we can meet again someday.”

“Likewise. Take care of yourself.”

Liza returned to the temple first. She must understand. I needed time alone to sort out my feelings.

I remained alone and finished walking the pathway where young Liza and I used to stroll. I then stopped by a pond lit by moonlight and sat upon the rock where Liza and I used to linger.

I looked around. There wasn’t a spot that wasn’t imbued with memories of Liza.

There on the rock, I cried for hours on end.

My allotted time with Liza had come to an end. Ahead was a great wall I couldn’t possibly scale.

The reason Liza and I had become so close was that we grew up in an orphanage, a unique space where differences in abilities and status could be ignored. It was not because I was special or because I was fated to be with Liza. It was simply good fortune, and now that fortune had run its course.

From my pocket, I took out the necklace I had made for Liza. I remembered seeing a necklace with a valuable jewel already around her neck. This necklace no longer held any meaning.

With my eyes squeezed shut, I dropped the necklace into the pond.

My love ended just like that.

***

After parting with Liza, I focused on learning my trade. It was the only thing I could do amidst my frustration.

One day, a jeweler who ran a large store showed interest in the accessories I made.

“Your craftsmanship doesn’t fall short of other artisans. Could you produce several pieces a week for our store?”

Receiving recognition for my skills, I entered into a contract. Selling my work gradually attracted more customers. Eventually, I was earning enough to live on my own, and by the age of 16 that summer, I left Loreille Hall to become independent.

Unexpected encounters also occurred after my independence.

It was when I was delivering goods to the jewelry store. Inside, I saw a potbellied nobleman and his wife, a couple, perusing the wares.

I froze solid at the sight of the couple. The potbellied nobleman and the woman linked arm were my mother. It was the first time I saw her in eight years, but I recognized her instantly. She looked just as I remembered. Yet, it seemed she had no idea who I was.

My mother called out someone’s name outside the store. Then two children, looking about six years old, ran into the shop. The couple hugged a child each, continuing to browse the ornaments.

My mother had built a new life, a new family.

I watched them dazed for a while before leaving the place.

For some time, I sequestered myself away from people to compose my emotions. It was a thing of the past, something I had accepted long ago. They were now people with whom I had no connection.

What could I do? This was the life I was given.

Would I be able to face Liza calmly if I met her again after eight years? This question lingered in my mind like an afterimage, unsettling my heart.

On days when I had some free time, I occasionally visited the Acates Temple. Other orphans my age had also found their ways and left the temple. I would sit alone in the empty chapel, contemplating the life and fate I had been given.

Everyone dreams of a grand and glorious life, but not everyone can have it. Not all can become kings or commanders of knightly orders or great archmages or heroes.

Some must become nuns, others prostitutes. Some must pull carriages, and others tend gardens. Some must work metal. For the world to run smoothly, some must be tiny cogs, crushed by pressure yet meshing with the world despite it.

The goddess Acates had saved me twice. Once, when I was about to die of starvation after losing my mother and she took me in, and the second time, when she saved me when the wraith tore open my gut. Why did the goddess go through such trouble? What did she want to use me for?

I couldn’t easily look upon my future with positivity.

Perhaps it was Liza who was chosen by the gods, and I was just disposable, merely a decoration for her childhood.

Since my independence, I had rented a place a little distance from the workshop. The floorboards creaked painfully when walked upon, the windows hardly opened, and every night, the sounds of rodents scurrying along the ceiling filled the decrepit house.

Laying in bed, I was too full of restless thoughts to fall asleep easily.

When sleep escaped me, thoughts of Liza would abruptly pop into my mind. What classes was she taking, whom was she meeting? How was she adapting to Eternia Academy, a gathering place for geniuses from all over the nation?

Then I’d steady myself and endeavor to erase Liza from my thoughts.

My metalwork skills improved by the day. The craftsman who taught me would see my work, laugh wryly, and say, ‘Now, that’s enough, right?’ urging me on.

But I didn’t stop. I continued to stay late at the workshop alone, mastering new crafting techniques.

***

It was midsummer, and the air was still quite warm even after the sun had set. I was the only one left working in the workshop. I checked the calendar. A year had passed since the day Liza and I had set out to find the star fragment. I let myself get lost in memories of that time for a moment.

Suddenly, bright light poured in through the dark window. It was strange. I looked out to scan the surroundings. The world was lit up as if the sun had risen anew.

Had I been so engrossed in my work that I hadn’t noticed dawn?

No, that was impossible. Too little time had passed. The clock in the workshop had only just moved past midnight.

Perhaps a fire had broken out. I hurriedly gathered my belongings and left the workshop.

Standing in the street, I observed the surroundings. There were no signs of blazing flames or billowing black smoke anywhere. Only then did I realize that an intense light from the heavens was illuminating the earth, and I lifted my gaze.

A massive meteor streaked across the sky. The meteor, trailing a long tail, emitted a dazzling and brilliant light.

Astonished by the powerful and beautiful sight, my mouth dropped open.

The meteor surged across the northwestern sky and quickly disappeared.

Memories of setting out to find the star fragment with Liza flashed before my eyes. As if the gravity of the Earth had pulled upon that celestial object, an indescribable force seemed to yank me toward the meteor’s trajectory.

Almost as if possessed, I roamed the night streets, approaching the city guards, prostitutes keeping the night watch, and the drunk patrons of taverns, asking them,

“Did you just see the meteor pass by?”

All of them treated me like a madman. I was the only one in this city who had witnessed the meteor.

I couldn’t be sure if this was a divine revelation or if I had gone mad and seen hallucinations. But having seen it, I could no longer return to my mundane daily life.

Like a man possessed, I ran home to pack some clothes. I grabbed whatever money I had saved and a dagger I’d kept in case of thieves, and left.

Before dawn broke, I hurried out of the city, embarking on another adventure in search of a meteor fragment. I may have been heading toward a futile death, but I didn’t hesitate.

***

Silveryn submerged in the bathtub, idly flicking the foam with her fingertips, then frowned. She turned to look out the window upon hearing the sound of hooves approaching her manor.

Silveryn had been enjoying her leisure time and shook her head in frustration.

Soon after, she rose from the bathtub, hastily dried off her hair with a towel, and slipped on a gown.

Exiting the bathroom, a maid awaited her.

“A messenger from the academy has delivered a few letters and left.”

“Why aren’t they using Stitch instead of a messenger?”

Stitch was a small spherical magical device with wings, widely used by mages as a substitute for mail.

“The messenger said the headmaster didn’t use magical devices for matters of importance.”

“Needlessly cautious… those oldsters.”

Glancing at the letters on the silver tray, Silveryn gestured for the maid to leave. After a brief curtsey, the maid exited, and Silveryn picked up the letters, stepping out onto the terrace. She crossed her legs in a comfortable chair, looking through the correspondence.

There were five letters addressed to her. Three contained trivial greetings and requests. She threw them onto the table without finishing them.

The remaining two were from the head of the Academy’s Department of Magic and a letter from an apprentice who had graduated under her guidance.

Silveryn tore open the seal of the letter from the headmaster first.

It stated that she should prepare to return to the Academy for the upcoming semester to manage the entrance exams and academic schedules.

It also contained a subtle pressure regarding the fact that she had never once used the ‘recommendation’ system, a tradition among Eternia Academy’s professors.

Besides lecturing and researching, the professors of Eternia had another task: uncovering hidden talents in the world.

This was an obligation based on the founding principles of Eternia Academy, set forth by its founder, Bern Arnst. Bern Arnst had encountered countless geniuses who grew up in dreadful conditions and turned into malevolents bringing ruin. To prevent this, he established Eternia.

Hundreds of years later, the original meaning had faded somewhat, but Article 1, Section 1 of Eternia’s founding ideology still stood firmly: “Draw the world’s talents into the light.”

The ‘recommendation’ system allowed granting exceptional talents special admission in line with Article 1, Section 1’s principle.

Silveryn never once unearthed a talent to lead to the Academy, even after becoming a full professor.

Even Silveryn had entered Eternia through this ‘recommendation’ system, but she harbored resentment toward it because some professors used it as a tool for ‘favors’ from nobles, seeking their safety and benefit.

“If there’s no one who meets my standards, what do they expect me to do?”

Tossing the headmaster’s letter onto the table, Silveryn picked up her apprentice’s letter. The apprentice had become a research fellow under Silveryn’s guidance at the magic association after graduation.

She found it somewhat curious that a magical seal, which could only be opened by the recipient, was on it. Magical seals were only used for confidential information.

She broke the seal and reviewed the contents.

It reported a massive magical explosion had been detected near the Royn Basin, an unexplored region near the Palanka Mountains in the northwest of the continent.

The Royn Basin was an area closely monitored by the association, also known as ‘death land,’ teeming with the so-called undead and beasts.

As Silveryn read on and reached the last sentence, she closed her eyes and held her head up with her fingertips.

‘The location of occurrence suggests signs of a large-scale dark magic ritual are possible.’

A headache seemed imminent.

The three letters of ‘dark magic’ meant her remaining vacation had all but flown away.