Emissary of Nothingness - Chapter 64 - First Lesson

Arien walked sleepily through the corridors of the Palace, surrounded by a river of black Academy robes.

The building looked completely different now.

Two days earlier, most of these hallways had been nearly empty. This morning they were packed with students moving in every direction, squeezing past one another at intersections and clustering around doors while trying to decipher schedules and room numbers.

Fortunately, Arien had walked the route from his dormitory to the classroom several times the previous day. What had seemed excessive preparation yesterday now felt like foresight bordering on genius.

He reached the correct corridor with five minutes to spare.

“Phew.” The blond boy beside him exhaled dramatically. “Good thing I got a roommate who actually knows where he’s going.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I would have been completely lost without you.”

“I know.”

Budram, or Bud, as he had insisted within minutes of introducing himself, had arrived at their room the previous evening looking as though he had run halfway across campus.

He was slightly stocky, blond, somewhat clumsy, and possessed an almost supernatural ability to keep talking without appearing to require breath.

Within their first hour together, Arien had learned that Bud was the third son of an old merchant family, had spent most of his childhood preparing to enter the family business, and considered awakening mana on his tenth birthday one of the great personal disasters of his life. His father had been considerably more enthusiastic about the idea. Apparently, having a son at the Academy meant connections, prestige, and future opportunities for the entire family.

Bud would still have preferred to become a merchant and Arien found this completely incomprehensible.

Still, he had taken a liking to his new roommate surprisingly quickly. Bud talked too much, but he seemed very friendly.

More importantly, learning that Arien came from an obscure provincial town with no wealth, title, or useful family connections hadn’t changed his attitude in the slightest. That alone put him ahead of quite a few people Arien had met recently.

“And thanks for waking me up,” Arien added.

“I needed you awake. I’d never have found this place on my own.”

“Fair enough.”

Arien leaned against the wall and looked around. More than twenty students were already waiting outside the classroom. Most stood alone or in pairs, clutching bags and notebooks while pretending not to study everyone around them.

One group stood out immediately. Three girls and two boys had claimed a section of wall near the classroom door and were talking with the relaxed familiarity of people who had known one another long before arriving at the Academy. Every so often, one of them said something that sent the others into laughter.

As Arien and Bud approached, one of the girls glanced toward them. She was tall for her age and slender, with fiery red hair falling almost to her waist. Her gaze lingered on Arien for a moment before she turned back to her friends.

A woman appeared farther down the corridor, and Arien recognized her immediately as Sonnia Terynheim, the Master from his registration interview.

As she approached, the conversations around the classroom gradually faded and several students straightened.

Velia had stopped by their room for a few minutes the previous evening to tell Arien what she knew about his Masters. According to her, Sonnia Terynheim was demanding, humorless, and one of the most competent instructors at the Academy.

More importantly, she specialized in Mana Sense and something Velia had called Unstructured Aspectless Magic. Arien still had only the vaguest idea what the second term meant.

The Master placed one hand against the door and sent a thin thread of mana into it. Something clicked. The door swung inward. Without so much as glancing back, Sonnia stepped inside and left it open behind her.

For several awkward seconds, nobody seemed sure whether following her counted as permission to enter. Then the red-haired girl stepped through the doorway, and the rest followed.

The classroom was larger than he had expected. One entire wall consisted of tall windows through which the last of the summer sunlight poured, though the air inside remained pleasantly cool. Magic again, presumably.

Instead of individual desks, three long tiers of benches curved across the room, each fitted with a narrow writing surface. Every row stood slightly higher than the one before it, giving everyone an unobstructed view of the large teacher’s desk near the front.

The rear wall was far more interesting.

Glass-fronted cabinets stretched almost from floor to ceiling, and to Arien’s Mana Sense they practically shimmered. Crystals and unfamiliar artifacts rested inside, while several smaller devices had been mounted directly into the walls.

Most students hurried toward the front. Arien did the opposite. He claimed a place at the edge of the highest row. After a moment’s hesitation, Bud sat beside him.

“Strategic position?” he whispered.

“Excellent view,” Arien said back, glancing toward the cabinets.

While several students continued negotiating over seats below, Arien studied the room. A few more crystals rested on the Master’s desk, along with several objects whose purpose he couldn’t begin to guess.

“Has everyone found a seat?” Sonnia’s voice instantly silenced the room. The last few students scrambled into whatever places remained. One boy nearly tripped on the steps leading toward Arien’s row. Nobody laughed. 

Sonnia waited until everyone was seated. 

“Good. My name is Sonnia Terynheim. I am a Fifth Circle mage, and I will serve as the advisor for Class 1D.” She looked slowly across the room. “I expect three things from you. Respect for the Academy and its staff. Obedience to Academy regulations. And complete dedication to your studies. The Academy is one of the most prestigious institutions of learning on the Continent. We intend to keep it that way.”

From Sonnia’s tone, Arien suspected she took that reputation very seriously.

“You will attend the First-Year Academy Seminar once every week. Organizational matters, regulations, schedules, complaints, and problems concerning your studies belong there. If you need to speak with me privately, that will also be the appropriate time.” 

She moved on to attendance.

The essential rule was simple: absence required justification. Unexcused lessons added penalty points to the semester examination, and Sonnia’s definition of an acceptable excuse appeared considerably narrower than Arien would have preferred.

Illness qualified. Official Academy duties qualified. Oversleeping did not. Neither did forgetting the location of a classroom.

At that, several students began writing noticeably faster. Arien resisted the urge to join them. Years of university had taught him exactly what happened to pages of notes titled Important Organizational Information: he would never look at them again.

Instead, his attention drifted toward the artifacts around the room. Through Mana Sense, each glowed with dense, carefully structured mana.

Every so often he returned his attention to Sonnia when something sounded important.

“I will also teach your Introduction to the System course, which begins immediately after this lesson. That does not mean the two classes are interchangeable.” Sonnia’s gaze hardened. “Questions concerning Academy organization belong here. Questions concerning the System belong in Introduction to the System. Questions concerning other subjects belong in their respective classes.”

Someone in the first row lowered a raised hand.

“Do not waste a Master’s time by dragging a lesson onto unrelated subjects merely because you happen to find them more interesting.”

Arien felt personally attacked despite having done nothing yet.

“There is another reason for this.” Sonnia folded her hands behind her back. “The curriculum is ordered deliberately. Some concepts, particularly in advanced magic, are not taught to younger students.” 

Her eyes swept across the class.

“I do not care what your parents, siblings, tutors, cousins, family retainers, or exceptionally knowledgeable neighbors may have told you.” A few students shifted uncomfortably. “Learning the wrong thing too early can create problems that take years to correct.”

Arien frowned. He had spent years waiting for the Academy because he wanted answers, and apparently even here some of them would be deliberately withheld.

Sonnia continued.

Most of their lessons would take place in this classroom to prevent first-years from flooding the Palace corridors between every class. The artifacts surrounding them were strictly off-limits. Attempts to activate, alter, damage, or otherwise interfere with them would be detected by the room’s wards.

Using spells without permission was equally forbidden, as was using abilities against classmates, especially mental ones. Food was also banned, which seemed to disappoint Bud more than anything else so far.

Finally, Sonnia reached a rule that attracted considerably more attention from the room.

“The Academy does not recognize distinctions of birth within its classrooms.” She spoke more slowly now. “Wealth, family name, place of origin, and social standing outside these grounds do not grant authority over another student here. Harassment or discrimination based upon them will be punished. Severe cases may result in expulsion.”

Arien noticed several students exchanging glances.

“Your performance here will be judged by your work and your progress. If another student attempts to use family influence against you, report it to your supervising Master or to me.”

Arien liked the rule. He was less certain how well it would work in practice.

“Hebram.”

A boy in the first row jerked upright. “Yes, Master?”

“Distribute the Academy Regulations.” Sonnia pointed toward a stack of booklets on her desk.

The remainder of the lesson was considerably less inspiring. They worked through regulations paragraph by paragraph, with Sonnia presenting increasingly specific hypothetical violations and demanding that students identify the correct response.

It was painfully boring, but he paid attention anyway. Accidentally getting expelled because he retaliated against someone using an ability on him would be an embarrassing end to his Academy career.

By the time the ninety-minute lesson ended, he had learned far more about disciplinary procedure than he had ever wanted to know.

Sonnia granted them a five-minute break before Introduction to the System. 

The room immediately came alive. Students stood, stretched, compared regulations, and began introducing themselves properly now that a Master was no longer watching them. A surprisingly large group gathered around the red-haired girl. Arien had learned her name during the lesson.

Reyna.

She had participated more than anyone else, but not in the irritating way Arien remembered from certain students back on Earth who answered every question just to show everyone else how much they knew.

Reyna listened, challenged answers she disagreed with, and drew quieter students into the discussion. Sonnia had even praised her twice. Arien could see why people gathered around her.

“That was a lot,” Bud said beside him, stretching his arms above his head. “Still easier than the League Trade Code.”

“You’ve read the League Trade Code?”

“Of course. My family does business across half the League.” His confidence lasted approximately three seconds. “What worries me are the actual magic classes.” He lowered his voice. “Half the people here already seem to know something. I thought we’d all start from the beginning. Even the Eights.”

“Uh…” Arien scratched his cheek. “I’ve had some experience too.”

“Oh, I’m doomed.”

“You’re not doomed.”

“Half the class already knows more than I do.”

“Learning magic is incredible. You’ll catch up.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“A friend of mine has an older brother who started with practically nothing. He’s about to begin his eighth year.”

“You know an eighth-year?” The question came from beside Bud.

A blonde girl had apparently been listening to them. Her voice was loud enough that two students in the row below turned around as well. She immediately seemed to regret speaking.

“I’m Gilly,” she added. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to listen. My father studied here too, but he refused to tell me almost anything. He kept saying it was better to discover everything myself.”

“Sounds like my mother.” One of the girls below turned around completely.

She had a soft, round face, enormous hazel eyes, and a remarkably pleasant voice.

“Porietta. But everyone calls me Pori.”

The honey-blonde girl beside her gave a small wave. “Melli.”

Gilly leaned closer immediately. “So what do you know? What should we focus on first? A girl at dinner yesterday told me anyone who hasn’t discovered an Aspect by the end of second year gets expelled.”

“That sounds like nonsense,” Melli said quietly. “My cousin never mentioned anything like that.”

Pori glanced at her. “Melli, not everyone is an Eight who already has an Aspect. Some of us are fighting for our lives here.”

Melli reddened. “You awakened only a month after I did.”

“After my ninth birthday.”

“I’m a Nine too,” Gilly said, immediately sounding relieved to have found an ally.

Bud looked between them. “Am I the only Ten?” His eyes shifted toward Arien. “Wait. How old are you? You definitely don’t look ten.”

“Eight and a half.”

For a moment, nobody said anything. Gilly stared at him, and Bud looked shocked.

“But I wouldn’t worry about awakening age,” Arien added quickly. “Once you’re here, what matters is what you actually do with the time you have.”

Gilly’s expression tightened slightly. “Easy for an Eight to say.”

That bothered him because she seemed to genuinely believe it.

“Advancement depends on your examination results,” Arien said. “Being an Eight doesn’t protect you from failing.” He hesitated for only a moment. “My friend’s brother told me that in his second year, an Eight and two Nines were expelled.”

The story was completely invented, but Gilly relaxed a little, and Bud did too. 

Arien felt a little sorry for them. He had lived far longer than any of them and was still starting to feel the pressure of the Academy. He could only imagine what it was like for children who were actually nine or ten.

He had spent years wanting exactly what they now had. It felt wrong that some of them were already afraid of losing it.

You can send in your Q&A questions until Friday, and I’ll try to post all the answers on Sunday.