I feel like this guy’s never gonna see another promotion in his life.
After all, who could endorse a man who put so little thought into what he said?
Lecia sidled up to Arcus. “I daresay this gentleman has reached the top of his career ladder.”
“That’s just what I was thinking. He blew it.”
“I feel a little sorry for him.”
“Yeah... Well, it’s his fault for not minding his words.”
He wasn’t clever enough; that was all there was to it. At a certain point in society, avoiding careless remarks became a matter of common sense. A single gaffe could lead to the ruin of one’s family in the same way that it could end a politician’s career in the man’s world. He was at fault for not properly considering the potential consequences of his words.
A fool’s tongue was long enough to hang himself with, as the proverb went. Although, when the teacher glowered at him, Arcus found it hard not to protest it as unwarranted.
All in all, the discrimination Arcus had faced hadn’t bothered him all too much, because he had foreseen it. He hadn’t spent years complaining about his lot in life for nothing. Not that he had enjoyed it, of course, but he was resilient enough that he could put up with a lot worse. It wasn’t as if such incidents were common at the Institute either. While the formation of friends and enemies was a given at any school, discrimination was rare here. That included the type that one saw a lot of in books, where noble children would pick on those from common families. While things may have been different in the past, these days noble parents encouraged their children to build good relationships with talented civilian kids and even lay “claim” to them.
As a general rule of thumb, any child with a common background who could get into the Institute was highly skilled. They would have had to earn an endorsement from someone who worked at the Magician’s Guild and then passed the entrance exam on top of that. From their side, too, forming connections with noble houses would be advantageous for their future employment, and so they also worked to befriend the more privileged children. It was for that reason that there was rarely any trouble between the two groups, save for the appearance of a complete oddball.
I guess the lack of drama’s a good thing...
Proper etiquette could sometimes prove a problem, but that could be solved with the right education. Manners were something you could learn, and the more time one spent with someone from a different background, the more one’s way of thinking would change. That went for both sides.
High-ranking nobles sometimes had commoners among their attendants too. Rich people didn’t pick fights; the only ones who looked down on the poor were the poor themselves. Even a certain villainous marquess didn’t throw his weight around more than was necessary when it came to the chief mercenary he employed. He respected his opinion too.
A month before joining the Institute, common children apparently took a short course to learn the basics of etiquette required when dealing with nobility. The rest came down to practice: learning how much distance was appropriate through real-life interactions.
It was a wonder, then, why Cazzy still struggled with decorum after having been through the same system himself.
Apparently, any noble student who did look down on the commoners risked being labeled a “pampered snob who’s drowning in staff” behind their back.
It was for these reasons that Arcus had hoped no one would belittle him because of his lack of aether, but maybe that was being too hopeful—no such stigma existed to protect noble children from other nobles. Sometimes, the haves were treated more poorly than the have-nots. In the first place, nobility was expected to uphold a certain standard. Those who couldn’t weren’t truly part of the noble sphere. In which case, he was considered to be on the lowest rung of the haves, and as such a prime target for his teacher’s discrimination. It made sense on a psychological level too. It took much less effort to bully someone socially closer to you than one who practically lived in a different world.
In any case, once it became known that he had an Order, no one really sneered at him anymore. He had worn it the day after Mercuria had reprimanded him.
“He really does have an Order!”
“I know that one! I’ve seen it before!”
“Doesn’t that mean his achievements counted as third class at least?”
“Whoa...”
Instead, the other students stared at him in awe...or perhaps “wonder” better fit the situation. They seemed to keep their distance from him too, like they weren’t sure how to act around him. It wasn’t a simple matter of a difference in rank or skill, which most students were used to dealing with.
At least Kane would still speak to him, if no one else.
“That’s the Order of the Silver Cross, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. The war kinda went by in a blur, and when I came home, I got this.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m just impressed.”
Kane had left it there, with Arcus none the wiser about why he was acting so weird.
A few days had passed since then, and it was time for a practical lecture aimed at those who already knew magic: Basics of Incantation 1. It started with a talk on vocalization and the knack of infusing your incantation with aether. After that, the students would cast for themselves and receive advice from the lecturer. It was a good chance to learn and practice how to avoid biting one’s tongue and, in Arcus’s opinion, an opportunity to observe how other magicians incanted. Learning their habits would prove useful in any upcoming duels, and he was interested to see what advice the lecturer would give in each case.
I might get the chance to teach myself at some point.
Although the people around him joked that there was no point in his joining the Institute, he knew he still had a lot to learn. It took more than being able to use and create spells to become a master of magic.
Some of the children gathered at the training grounds fell into the category of nonmagical students. As their name suggested, these were students who weren’t magicians and, for the most part, couldn’t use magic. They enrolled in the Institute because they required knowledge of the arts for their future endeavors. Although they couldn’t play an active part in lectures that centered around magic usage, these sessions were still a valuable learning opportunity for them, and they were expected to attend.
The lecturer had given his lesson on the basics of incantation, and it was now time for the practical part of the session.
“Please get yourselves into pairs of magical and nonmagical students.”
Why pairs?
Arcus couldn’t see the point, personally, but since it was an instruction from a teacher, he couldn’t object. He looked around to see if anyone would be willing to join up with him.
Crap. I might actually end up alone.
He didn’t have any friends yet, and word had already spread that he had been disinherited. The other students in his class tended to avoid him, and Lecia wasn’t in this lecture. Most of the noble children had friends—or at least people they knew—from before they joined. The common children naturally gravitated toward other common children.
Arcus couldn’t just wait around for someone to call out to him. It would be like waiting at the bottom of a hill for something to come rolling down. He would wait and wait, and nothing would happen. But, even if he did ask someone to join him, they’d probably have already formed a pair by the time he got to them. Looking around, he couldn’t see anyone who was both alone and approachable. Uneasiness was starting to sink in. At this rate, he really would end up by himself.
“You’re Arcus, aren’t you?”
“Huh?”
A girl had approached him. Her deep blue hair was cut in a long, fluffy bob, and she had a pin or two hidden in her bangs. Her big, round eyes complemented her adorable features.