Saybil took a seat on the sofa provided for guests, directly across from Headmaster Albus. Beside him, Loux Krystas pestered Holdem with endless plaints: “Why hast thou deprived me alone of tea?” and, “How fiendish!” and, “Some for me, too,” and, “Please, I beg of thee!”
“So,” Headmaster Albus began, exercising impressive mental fortitude to ignore the ruckus. “Do you know why I’ve called you here?”
“Because…I’m failing?” Saybil ventured.
The headmaster smiled wryly. “Indeed. Your grades are the worst ever recorded in our Academy’s short history. As things stand, there’s simply no way I can allow you to advance to the next year of study.”
“Right… Of course…” Saybil’s shoulders sagged. He’d seen it coming, but even so, hearing it from the headmaster’s own lips was like a punch in the gut. “Headmaster…I promise I’ll try my best. I mean, I am trying now, of course, but I’ll try even harder! I’ll even start over from year one if I have to. Just please, don’t expel─”
“Which is why I wanted to discuss a special field training program with you.”
“…Huh?” Saybil blinked, feeling like the rug had just been pulled out from under him. “Special…field training program?”
“Oh hoh, what a lovely ring that ‘special’ has to it. I have a great fondness for special treatment. Uncommonly talented individuals should receive all the special treatment there is to be had─especially ones as exceptional as myself.”
“Loux Krystas. I’m trying to have a conversation with Saybil right now. This is work,” the headmaster chided. “If you can’t sit quietly, I’m going to have to throw you out.”
“Thou art welcome to try. However, shouldst thou resort to force, I, the illustrious Loux Krystas, am thoroughly prepared to respond in kind with the full measure of my might. And yet thou mayest find more elegant means of silencing me. I have a great love of thoughtful consideration. And I imagine thy clever mind should at the very least suffice to discern the simplest solution here.”
Veins bulging faintly on her forehead, Headmaster Albus wordlessly offered her own plate of sweets to the guest at her side. The witch’s eyes glittered with delight as she stuffed her mouth full of the delicious confections. In the ensuing silence, the headmaster hurriedly returned to the matter at hand.
“So, back to the special field training course─tell me, Saybil. Are you aware of how people treat witches and mages outside the Kingdom of Wenias?”
“Yes. The neighboring countries are welcoming enough, but anti-witch sentiment grows stronger the further south you go…and in some cases it can even lead to witch hunts. That’s what it said in my textbooks, anyway.”
That’s right─his textbooks. Aside from what he’d gleaned from such written materials, Saybil knew practically nothing about the world outside the school. The inner workings of the Magical Academy itself and the recent magical history he’d learned in class were about the only things he could confidently claim to know about this world:
Five hundred years of conflict between the Church and the witches, with peace achieved only a few years prior.
The shift from cumbersome sorcery to simpler magic.
Witches like Albus, who wielded those more ancient arts, and mages like himself who had studied the newer evolution of the practice.
“Exactly. You clearly know your stuff. In Wenias, witches and mages like us can walk tall and proud, but it’s still not safe to openly proclaim ourselves in the southern reaches of the Great Continent. Though Loux Krystas may be able to give us a more accurate picture of the current situation,” the headmaster remarked, turning to the visiting witch. “Weren’t you traveling in the South up until recently?”
But Loux Krystas did not even glance in her direction. “Who can say? Thou art busy talking with this Saybil lad, art thou not? I dare not interject, lest I be thrown out. I must say, however, that these dainties are quite scrumptious.”
“…Holdem,” Headmaster Albus called quietly to her manservant. His hand quickly found the sword hanging from his waist.
“Want me to toss her out? Just say the word.”
“Pour some tea for Loux Krystas. And bring some more sweets while you’re at it.”
She took the high road. The highest, most mature road there could be.
No sooner had Holdem set to preparing the tea and pastries as he’d been ordered, than Loux Krystas leaned forward and began divulging the information Albus had requested.
“From what I’ve observed in my travels these last few years, the South is─well, rife with murderous intent. Fundamentalists of the church in every corner of the land have been clamoring for witch hunts.”
“But,” Saybil broke in, “didn’t the Church…didn’t the Bishops of the Seven Great Cathedrals accept peace with the witches?”
“Maybe so, but their holy texts have demonized witches for over five centuries and only changed course a handful of years ago. ’Twould be inconceivable for a simple declaration of peace to persuade life-long adherents to relinquish such beliefs overnight,” Loux Krystas explained.
“Huh…” Is that how things go? Saybil wondered. After all, he knew very little about the world.
“The Church is no longer monolithic. In the wake of the Disasters of the North, it has split into incessantly bickering factions: those who support peace with the witches, and those who would seek to suppress us. If anything, the division has led the suppressionist faction to intensify its witch hunts. Come, I shall illustrate the situation such that even this uninitiated youth can understand.”
Loux Krystas lightly shook her staff. In response, a black liquid oozed out of the orb embedded in it and spread out to cover the low table between Saybil and Headmaster Albus. As Saybil watched, the sludge bulged and stretched into a three-dimensional map of the Great Continent, a landmass shaped like an overfed crescent moon. The witch pointed to the center of the map.
“This is the Kingdom of Wenias where we now sit, in the heart of the Great Continent.” As she said this, a small replica of the Academy of Magic bubbled to the surface. Saybil lost himself in the map, entranced by what looked to him like a clay creation come to life.
The witch’s finger slid to the northern region of the map. “To the north of here lies a barren wasteland called the Remnants of Disaster. Though the area around the capital came away relatively unscathed, the further north one travels, the more pervasive the devastation becomes, until hardly any natural life can be found. To quote a certain text, however, monsters like ‘the nightmares of a deranged artist’ run rampant there.”
As if on cue, tiny figurines of centipedes with human hands and feet, deer with savage blades for antlers, and other deformed monstrosities crawled out of the murk.
How does that thing work? Man, I really want to touch it─but Holdem asked if I had a death wish last time I tried, so maybe I’d better not.
Many of the implements wielded by witches─particularly those witches of ages past─were as dangerous as they were useful, which was why almost every class in the Academy’s curriculum strictly warned students never to carelessly touch any such objects.
“Saybil, do you know about the Remnants of Disaster?” Headmaster Albus asked, to make sure the student was keeping up with the discussion.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Saybil spluttered in a mild panic, but then checked himself. He slowed down and chose his words carefully so as to not give an incorrect answer. “Six years ago a single witch summoned an unbelievable number of demons and destroyed the northern part of the Great Continent, right? The witch was eventually killed, but the monsters created by all those demons still roam the area…so now we call those monsters, and, well, all the ills that survived the witch’s demise, the ‘Remnants of Disaster.’”
“Oh hoh? What’s this? ’Twould seem that despite thy befuddled air, thou hast rested not on the laurels of thy talent, but toiled away diligently at thy studies. Well done, child. I have a great love of industrious pursuit.” As she said this, Loux Krystas reached out a hand and gave Saybil’s head a few appreciative pats, then turned once again to the map on the table.