After sending off the group that claimed to be his students from the future, Sophocles escorted the children who’d collapsed in the laboratory to the infirmary.
“A prycle has run away? Why didn’t you report it at once, sir?” asks Krios Cagle, the vice-principal. He’s come running to the principal’s office after finding out about the students in the infirmary.
Entertained by the vice-principal appearing in a flustered state to complain, the principal clears his throat to hide that fact.
“You see, Krios, I was utterly focused on weeding.”
“Sir, I’ve been told three students have come to harm!”
“They have simply been shown some nightmares. ’Tis nothing to worry about.”
Prycles are large cats that inflict dreams, both good and bad, upon the people and animals they bite. Two are kept at the Royal Magic School of Doran, and students take turns feeding them. Their bites don’t leave marks and don’t even hurt or itch, so it’s hardly dangerous. They’ve been known to grab sleeping animals in their mouths and carry them off elsewhere, but as the prycles can’t leave the school, managing them isn’t all that difficult.
Sophocles has claimed this incident is a prycle’s doing.
“’Tis most surprising one should manage to escape,” says the principal. “Should we make the fences taller?”
“Forget about the cat for a moment!” replies Krios. “I was told it was Mr. Bordon’s students who got hurt in all this. I must ask you, sir: why did you change the class compositions and put two commoners in a class full of noble girls? I’m sure you’re aware of the controversy—why do this in the midst of a push to split commoners and nobles into separate classes? Didn’t you say you wanted to experiment by forming a class solely made up of nobles?”
“Well...”
Sophocles folds his arms as he looks over the portraits of his predecessors. This is an old school with a long history. Its ideology isn’t as stiff as it once was, regardless of how many might complain.
“I saw a dream of a future, you see. A future where friendships form across the bounds of class, and children on either side learn to serve others to their utmost ability, regardless of the other party’s prestige or heritage. I think I’d rather like to see it come to pass.”
Sophocles ponders the possibility that a commoner boy might one day bicker with a prince like it’s the most natural thing in the world. While not ideal, the notion of such mutual care stirs Sophocles’s heart.
“A dream? There you go with your abstract conceits again, sir,” complains Krios, sighing.
The principal smiles at the sight of his consternation. “Wouldn’t you say you find it a relief as well? I suspect you felt as though your long-held friendships had been crossed out when it was decided to assemble a class with nobles alone.”
Though Krios sighs again, his expression relaxes ever so slightly.
“By the way, Krios. Do you remember the names of the assistant teachers?”
“What are you talking about? What assistant teachers?”
“Never mind, I had the wrong idea. Forget I said anything.”
No doubt the principal’s own memory will fade as well, before long.
He closes his eyes as he recalls the ray of light that shone from the future. He believes that some things will remain, even should they be forgotten.