Chapter 41 - An Early Morning

The next day started early, as Felicia entered Daniel’s room and opened the curtains, letting the sun shine directly on his face.

"Morning, great hero!" Her voice was far too cheerful for whatever ungodly hour this was. "What say you we get an early start to the day?"

"Mmmfh."

Daniel pulled the pillow over his face, but even the soft down didn't stop the light completely. The brightness burned through the fabric, turning his eyelids into screens of painful orange.

Fine. Two can play at this game.

He summoned a large ball of void flame in front of the window without even looking, feeling the magic respond to his will with lazy ease. The darkness swallowed the sunlight instantly, and blessed shadow returned to his sanctuary.

It worked like a charm.

"Is the sunlight that bad?"

"I think I've gone blind." His voice came out muffled by the pillow, but he didn't bother moving it yet. The cool darkness was too sweet.

"You poor thing," Felicia replied in a very monotone voice, almost like she didn't mean it. He could practically hear the smile on her face. “I wanted to go to the dining hall, but I can barely find my way down a straight hallway. My guardian needs to help me.”

Daniel groaned into the pillow. She was getting too good at this manipulation thing.

"Fine, fine, just give me five minutes." He waved a hand in her general direction, still not removing his pillow. "Make another circle while you wait."

"Look forward to another success, then!"

She left the room, closing the door behind her and leaving him in peaceful darkness. The void flame remained in front of the window, efficiently cleaning the air of the room as it consumed everything that drifted near it.

Daniel finally removed the pillow from his face, blinking at the ceiling.

How come air doesn’t flow into the flame? Is the void a place with atmospheric pressure?

He found it weird that Artorias never questioned that. But then again, Daniel had knowledge of physics that Artorias never had—even if Daniel himself had never bothered to figure out the mechanics when writing it.

Too much attention to detail could become boring, in the end. Readers wanted story, not thermodynamic essays on magical phenomena.

...Well, enough slumbering.

He pushed himself up, running a hand through his hair. It stuck up at odd angles, but some water would fix that.

Today I have to check up on the mermaids. After breakfast.

The thought brought a mix of anticipation and dread. If his theory was right about the Queen's egg, if the timeline was accelerating as he feared...

One problem at a time. Breakfast first.

He got up, sent a pulse of mana into his index, and watched as one of his regular outfits materialized around him. Then he headed to the bathroom to splash water on his face, removing most of the tiredness that remained.

When he emerged from his room, Felicia was sitting at the small table by the window, tracing mana patterns in the air above sheets of paper. She'd managed to create two new perfect circles, but there were also two crumpled failures on the floor by the waste bin.

"Two out of four," he observed, lifting the failures into the bin with a thought. "You improved a lot overnight, but still not perfect."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "I blame the time limit. You said five minutes."

"That’s a fair point."

After leaving the room, they passed plenty of students in the hallways leading to the dining hall. Children of all ages, starting at ten, though the youngest mostly stayed in the east wing away from the older students. Their room was on the west side, in the section reserved for special cases and faculty.

Some of the students stared at the duo as they walked by, but mainly at Felicia, who kept her eyes closed as she walked.

The dining hall was grand, just like he had described in the book. Over fifty meters wide, and probably a hundred meters long, with vaulted ceilings that made voices echo pleasantly. 

The many long tables in the room were covered with food—platters of pastries, bowls of fruit, pitchers of juice and milk, baskets of fresh bread still steaming slightly. All they had to do was find a place to sit.

A few hundred students were spread across the hall, clustered in their friend groups and year cohorts. Daniel recognized none of them individually, but he recognized them in spirit, having been in their exact position many times before.

Some things never changed, not even across a thousand years.

They sat down at a lone table near the western windows, where Daniel had spotted some old favorites among the food selection. Toast with ringberry jam was a classic breakfast, washed down with ice-cold spritswater.

He set the cup down with a satisfied exhale, looking over at Felicia, who was still getting used to eating by herself. She also experimented a bit, testing what she liked and what she did not, matching the tastes to the sensations her mana sight provided.

It was fascinating to watch, honestly. Most people took the connection between sight and taste for granted.

"Find anything good?"

"Yes, this long yellow thing is so good!" She held it up proudly, showing the cream filling where she'd already taken a bite. "What is it called?"

"A bonner. Classic pastry with cream filling." He grabbed one himself, still warm. "Mostly for dessert, but I won't judge."

"Ahh, so that's a bonner." She took another bite, savoring it. "Aren't they old?"

"Well, how do you think I know of them?" He gestured around the hall with his half-eaten toast. "The headmaster here likes to keep things the same, you see. The menu probably hasn't changed since the academy opened."

"That... does make sense."

Daniel finished his toast, licking jam from his thumb. "I was thinking of speaking with Quill first today, to discuss your classes. Are you in?"

"Sure." Her voice was quieter now, lacking some of the earlier enthusiasm.

"You don't sound too excited."

"I am." She set down her bonner at the edge of the plate. "But also nervous."

"You'll be fine, Fillie." He reached over and tapped her hand reassuringly. "Even if you are a bit behind the others, they won't be able to speak once they see how quickly you learn. Especially if they know which family your mother is from."

She was quiet for a moment, with her head tilted down. 

"...But what if I'm too different to make friends?"

It was painful to hear the vulnerability in her voice. She'd spent so much of her life isolated, with no friends or family to really rely on. In her mind, it was easier not to try.

"Ah, well..." He leaned back, considering. "That is a risk. Maybe I should put you in the weirdo class, then."

Her head snapped up. "Weirdo class?"

"Yeah, officially called the Class for Special Students." He grinned at her expression. "If someone is found to have an incredible talent, but they lack all prior knowledge of magic, they get entered in the weirdo class. Like me."

"You went there?"

"I'm from a small fishing hamlet, and no one knew much magic there. Lighting fires, preserving fish, basic utility stuff." He picked up his cup, swirling the remaining spritswater. "But when I was ten, an old professor came around and tested all the children in different magical talents. I was found to have an abnormally large mana pool, so he gave me a chance to go to the academy."

The memories felt distant, filtered through Artorias's perspective, but still real. "My mom was the one who convinced me in the end. She saw it as an opportunity I couldn't pass up. So I left home and lived here for seven years."

"Oh yeah, that does ring a bell." Felicia's posture had relaxed. “Is your mana pool still very large?”

"Well, it is, but compared to others who have reached my level, it's no longer all that abnormal." He shrugged. "You need to have talent to cross the two-thousand mark.”

“...But you’re way past that, right?”

“I am.”

"Over two and a half is what the legends say." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice even though no one was close enough to hear. "And I guess it has to be for you to suppress archmages like that."

"That's right." He couldn't quite keep the smugness out of his voice. "It might take you a few years to catch up."

"If I keep my current rate," she said, lifting her chin with mock superiority, "I'll catch up this year."

Daniel laughed, drawing a few glances from nearby tables. "It's easier to grow in the beginning, but that much might be a challenge, even for your talent. You done eating?"

Felicia finished her plate and emptied her cup, setting it down with a satisfied sigh. "Yes! Very good food here, no complaints."

"Glad you like it. Let's go see the head teacher, then."

Daniel stood, then paused to watch as his plate and cup floated magically into the air above them. They hovered for a moment, as if deciding their path, then gently drifted toward the kitchen alongside dozens of other dishes from students who'd finished eating.

Felicia's head turned upward, tracking her own floating plate with her mana sight. Her expression shifted to surprised delight.

"Formations?"

"Yeah. They're quite interesting, don't you think?" He gestured for her to follow him toward the exit, weaving between tables as they talked.

"How do they work?"

"They're far more complicated than they look." He kept his voice low, aware that other students might be listening. "The chairs and tables communicate through a formation in the floorboards here, indicating that someone just got up from their spot. Then that triggers a small barrier to form inside the plates and cups, which lifts them toward the kitchen."

Felicia's brow furrowed in concentration as she processed that. "...But what about the anchor point?"

Exactly the question he hoped she would ask. She was paying close attention to every word he taught her.

"I told you barriers almost always have anchor points, right?" He held the door open for her as they exited into the hallway. "This is one of the rare cases they don't, but it's only usable on small and weak barriers like these." 

He started walking toward Quill's office, with Felicia falling into step beside him. "Then there's the massive amount of calculations that had to be done for the pathways of the hovering to be accurate. Hundreds of dishes, all moving at once, never colliding."

"Did you make this formation?"

"No, it was my formations teacher, actually." He smiled at the memory of his old teacher, Professor Narody. The man who had discovered Artorias’ greatest talent and cultivated it with incredible enthusiasm. 

"He was very proud of it, though it's not all that useful beyond the aesthetic appeal."

"It certainly feels magical, though."

"That's exactly why he did it." They turned a corner, climbing a set of stairs toward the administrative wing. "The great Academy of Novanny has to be magical, doesn't it? Has to inspire wonder in the students."

"Now I'm even more excited."

"Perfect!" He reached over and ruffled her hair, earning an indignant squeak.

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Master Quill was usually a proud man. Not so much anymore, though. 

A visit from the greatest hero in history, thought to be dead for a millennium, would shatter anyone's pride. It was hard to feel accomplished about managing class schedules and student enrollment when the man who'd saved the continent was walking the same halls.

He still found it hard to believe. The logical part of his mind kept suggesting alternatives—impostor, delusion, elaborate hoax. But the golden light that had appeared in the visitor formations didn't lie.

And then there was the visit to the Headmaster. That alone should have been proof enough. The ancient elf didn't see just anyone, and he certainly wouldn't entertain a fraud.

Artorias was staying in the academy. Perhaps even eating in the dining hall right now.

Gods, how am I supposed to get any work done?

It was particularly hard to concentrate because of the two visitors currently occupying his office, who still hadn't resolved their differences despite multiple mediation sessions. Another animated argument over a perceived slight had set off a chain reaction of accusations, building like a storm until they'd inevitably ended up at his door again.

"That spill was intentional to ruin my ingredients!" the Grifantes boy yelled.

“Oh sure, I destroyed my own mixture to annoy you,” the princess replied sarcastically. “Grow up.”

“You wouldn’t hesitate for a second if you felt slighted! I walked into you by accident, alright?”

“Right, because I’m invisible! Were your eyes perhaps busy gazing at Hanna’s behind?” The princess's voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

“No, I was talking to Bron, actually! And what’s to see under these robes? You could have eight arms under there, and I wouldn’t know.”

A jealous princess, and a careless Grifantes heir...

Quill wanted to scream. Or possibly drink something much stronger than the tea growing cold on his desk.

What professor would dare get between them?

He'd seen this pattern before. Many times, during his time as a teacher. But usually, with students who wouldn't cause a diplomatic incident if he mishandled the situation.

Quill was losing hope rapidly. Even if they did eventually realize their own feelings, every lover's quarrel would still end up at his office. They'd probably expect him to mediate their engagement at this rate.

He had genuine work to attend to, truly. Class schedules to finalize, faculty disputes to resolve, and the upcoming festival preparations to coordinate.

A knock at the door interrupted the arguing long enough for him to breathe.

Both students fell silent, turning toward the sound. The princess smoothed her robes reflexively, while the Grifantes heir ran a hand through his disheveled hair with feigned nonchalance.

"Come in, please," Quill said, and he couldn't keep a genuine plea out of his voice. Anything was better than this.

The door opened, and in walked the only person he wanted to offend less than the queen or the Grifantes family.

Artorias Grifantes himself.

Ch.40 --I-- Ch.42