Still, I didn’t see myself using a bow in the Mystic Forest. If I needed a projectile, I’d sooner just fire a magically targeted arrowhead. That’s what I’d done when taking down the Peylon baboon. Back home, if you wanted to pick up a new weapon, most people expected you to watch and learn. I assumed they didn’t feel like teaching, and probably didn’t know how.
That was one aspect of Peylon that had room for improvement. Just as I was thinking of how to efficiently train people, I noticed Colny grinning at me.
“Oh, that’s right, Lera.”
“What?”
“Have you received any invitations from Sir Yuin following the academy festival?”
“No, nothing really.”
All told, I had totally forgotten about him until now. During the festival, my brain power had been dedicated to stopping any interference and making sure our performance was a success. It’s easy to say this in hindsight, but I’m really glad the events were a success. If anything had gone wrong, I might have ended up personally kicking down Lord Bilbroza’s door. But I digress.
“Why are you bringing up the black knight?” I asked.
“Your birthday isn’t far off, correct? Is that not his deadline?”
“Deadline?”
“Have you already forgotten? He’s trying to woo you before time runs out.”
“Ah.”
That’s right. We had something like that. It had been cast to the distant edges of my memory.
“I take it you completely forgot? It seems you still don’t even care enough to call him by his name.”
Well, yeah. It’d be weird if I suddenly changed my mind. But there’s something more important than that.
“I wonder how the Mystic Forest is doing with the looming overflow?”
Last year, we’d found the preliminary signs of an overflow—an outpouring of monsters. While that didn’t mean danger was imminent, Lord Peylon did say that it demanded that we exercise caution for a while.
Colny wrinkled her brow. “I haven’t heard anything at all.”
If she wasn’t being kept in the loop, that probably meant they didn’t want the students to get involved. Maybe we’d show up in Peylon for summer break and find out it was already over or something. But overflows weren’t that simple, were they?
I had already received a passing grade for mystic-jockeying and general magic, so as predicted, I didn’t need to take exams for either of them. Yet for some reason, Bear decreed that I had to take a test. Just me. Utterly baffling. The test involved illusory magic, the same stuff we did at last year’s festival.
“You did that with a group, right?” he said. “I think you can manage on your own.”
“Yeah, that’s true. What should I project?”
“Just whatever.”
“Just whatever?” Hmm. Well, it’s a bit early in the year for it, but how about a firework show?
There wasn’t much known about gunpowder in this world, so there were no fireworks. Using magic as a replacement sounded feasible, but my plate was too full at the moment. I almost considered throwing it Nielle’s way, but then I considered how close she was to working herself to death. I could easily imagine her throwing aside her other tasks and burying herself in firework spells.
I put up a black screen for a backdrop, then cast images of fireworks in front of it. The results were awfully pretty. Since this was my test, it was being held during class hours, meaning everyone in general magic was present to see. And boy were they captivated.
“Oh, that’s pretty,” Bear said with admiration. “So? What are they?”
“Fireworks.”
“And those are?”
“I don’t know what to say. Fireworks are fireworks.”
I’m not sure what other explanation I could offer when fireworks didn’t exist here. Bear wasn’t satisfied with my answer, but that was his problem. Man, this wasn’t really an exam, was it? It was more of a rehearsal. Well, it’s fine if it was well received.
For magic tools, I made a cuckoo clock. Though it was the tabletop type, it was big enough to need both arms to carry. When it struck three, six, nine, or twelve o’ clock, a little doll would pop out and twirl around, along with ringing a bell. I just had to make sure to keep the noise down. It was fine during the day, but we couldn’t have loud bells ringing in the middle of the night.
Though it lacked practicality, I went for entertainment value. If I wanted something practical, I could just buy one somewhere. This was for fun. Actually, it was so I could pass my exam.
Alchemy was a test of our fundamental skills, but there was also a paper segment. Because we had already done the written exam and scored well on that, I would be fine as long as I passed the practical section. This wasn’t the sort of class where being able to just pass a written exam was good enough. Each portion accounted for about half our overall score.
The assignment was to make a low grade salve, one meant to heal cuts and scratches without leaving the slightest scar. Amazing, the things you could make with alchemy. But it really earned its status as the final challenge of second year alchemy. Compared to last year’s final assignment, this one was magnitudes more finicky.
The mana attenuator made for the first-year final and the antidote made during the last end of term exam both required nothing more than mixing ingredients. With this salve, however, heat management entered the picture.
Taking medicinal herbs processed for this specific recipe, we added them in a prescribed order, and at designated temperatures. Only the right amount of heat could draw out their medicinal properties. At the end, we used magic to stabilize it and set its potency.
A lot of people stumbled when it came to heat management. I could tell by all the people looking intently at their thermometers.
So let’s try asking.
“Instuctor, may we use magic to manage heat?”
“I don’t see why not. The steps don’t matter so much as the result.”
I wasn’t expecting such a bold response. Looking around, I wasn’t the only one surprised. With permission acquired, I got to casting. I felt some people staring at me, but I ignored them. The instructor said we could use magic, so they might well have followed my example.
Managing the temperature with magic wasn’t exactly easy. You’d be amazed at how hard it was to maintain a consistent heat level.