The class quieted after the last round of murmurs, the faint scrape of quills on parchment filling the air. Professor Barinous stepped forward, resting his hands lightly on the edge of the lectern.
"Now that we've handled… interruptions," he said with a faint smirk, "let's begin properly."
He glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of both first-years and second-years alike.
"My class is not like the others you will take here. I will not be drilling you on the minutiae of political treaties or the exact year a particular kingdom rose or fell. Those facts have their place… but my focus will be on the stories behind them — the old accounts, the myths, the legends that often contain more truth than people care to admit."
A girl in the third row tilted her head. "So… you're saying this is more like a literature class?"
Barinous gave a single, deliberate shake of his head. "No. These are not fairy tales you tell children before bed. These are accounts of events that shaped the course of history — accounts that some would rather you believe are fiction."
I caught the flicker of weight in his voice, the subtle warning.
He continued, "We will speak of ancient relics and artifacts, of magical techniques lost to time, of beings who existed long before any of our modern nations took shape. We will discuss the triumphs and disasters of those who wielded great power… and the consequences that followed."
From the back, a boy raised his hand, a second-year student. "Sir? I know this class is recommended, but… why should we take it? I mean, it's interesting, sure, but how does it help us?"
Barinous smiled, as if he'd been waiting for that exact question."An excellent inquiry," he said, folding his hands behind his back. "There is a phrase I live by — and I suggest you remember it well."
He looked across the room, his voice steady. "Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it."
Silence. Even the second-year students leaned forward.
"Throughout history," Barinous went on, "there have been countless moments where the actions of a single mage, warrior, or alchemist led to their death… and, on occasion, to the ruin of entire cities. Some pursued forbidden magic without understanding the dangers. Some combined spells and alchemical processes in ways they did not fully comprehend."
He paced slowly, each step measured."And in nearly every case, the outcome was predictable — had they known the true accounts of those who came before them, they would have recognized the danger long before it claimed them."
He stopped at the far end of the room, resting one hand on the sill of an open window. "Those who ignore such lessons often believe themselves to be the exception. They are not."
A ripple of unease passed through the first-years. The second-years looked grim, perhaps remembering a classmate who hadn't returned from an assignment last year.
Barinous straightened, returning to the center of the room. "If, however, you learn these histories, the truth of them, then you can adapt. Adjust your approach. Compensate for the mistakes your predecessors made. In doing so, you stand a far greater chance of surviving… and of achieving what they could not."
The boy who'd asked nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I… understand. Thank you, Professor."
Barinous inclined his head. "You're welcome. And I hope you all remember that when you find yourselves faced with the temptation to experiment without knowledge. There is a difference between ambition and recklessness."
'That,' I thought, 'is something too many mages never figure out until it's too late.'
Barinous turned to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk. "Now then," he said, "let's begin today's lesson."
The professor turned back to us after writing a few looping symbols on the blackboard."Before we begin with today's topic, I have a habit," he said, leaning one hand on the lectern. "I like to start my first class of the year by taking questions. Not on what's in the syllabus, but on… curiosities."
A ripple of surprise moved through the room.
Barinous smiled faintly. Legends, artifacts, half-forgotten tales your grandparents swore were true. If I know it, I'll tell you. If I don't… I'll find out next time. Knowledge is a conversation, not a monologue."
He scanned the room expectantly.
For a moment, no one moved — then a furry hand went up in the middle rows.
It was Nex, Araki's roommate — a monkey beastman with lean arms, a long prehensile tail curled loosely around his chair leg, and ears that twitched every time someone shifted in their seat.
"Yes?" Barinous asked.
Nex cleared his throat. "Uh… I got something from a market stall the other day. Jack," he pointed at me, "told me a little about it, but I wanted to know more. It's a tarot deck."
A small murmur spread through the first-years, and I felt a handful of eyes shift to me. The second-year looked mildly puzzled at the reaction.
Barinous's eyes brightened with genuine interest. "A tarot deck, you say?"
"Yeah," Nex said. "Dark blue backs with gold designs. The shopkeeper said they're supposed to bring good luck, but jack said they could tell your fortune."
"I see." The professor tilted his head. "Do you have it with you?"
Nex nodded, already digging into his satchel. "Right here."
"Bring it up, if you would."
Nex padded down the aisle, tail swaying lazily behind him, and handed the deck over. Barinous accepted it like one might take an old relic, weighing it briefly in his hands before flipping through a few cards.
*Snap*
The sound cracked like a whip.
The deck exploded into motion, cards whirling into the air in a slow, deliberate orbit. They floated just above the students' heads, turning so that each face could be seen clearly before sliding along the invisible current.
Gasps rippled through the room.
"Tarot decks," Barinous began, "are curious things. Their origins remain unknown to this day. Some scholars insist they began as mere fortune-telling games. Others believe they were created by ancient seers to record truths they could not speak aloud. Still others… think they are older than human civilization itself."
He gestured, and the cards drifted closer to the front, forming a spiralling helix before fanning neatly above the lectern.
"They are used most often for divination," he continued. "If the reading is done properly, they can provide a glimpse — however symbolic — into one's past, present, and potential future.
The most common method is to draw three cards," Barinous went on. "The first represents the past. The second, the present. And the third, the future. The deck is divided into two groups — the Minor Arcana and the Major Arcana."
The cards are separated into two hovering stacks.
"The Minor Arcana deal with day-to-day matters, struggles, and influences — much like the suits in an ordinary playing deck. The Major Arcana, however…" He let the cards tilt so that only the upper row showed. "…deal with archetypes. Forces. Pivotal events. Life-changing revelations."
For a moment, his eyes lingered on those cards — and something unspoken flickered there.
Then, so quietly most of the class missed it, he murmured, "Not that the trials are something I should discuss this early."
Ark's head tilted slightly. "Trials?" he whispered under his breath.
I kept my gaze fixed on the professor, not so much as twitching.
'Pretend you didn't hear it.'
Barinous snapped his fingers again. The cards swirled back into a single deck and landed gently in his palm. He handed them back to Nex with a smile.
"They are tools, nothing more unless you give them meaning. Study them if you wish. But be careful what questions you ask. Some answers cannot be unseen."
Nex nodded quickly.
Barinous eyes swept the room again, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly.
"Perhaps," he said slowly, "it would be more… memorable if I demonstrated."
That got a few heads lifting from their notes.
"Let's have…" His gaze drifted over the rows. "…you. And you. And… you."
He pointed first to a girl in the front row, then to a boy near the aisle, and finally, to Nex.
Nex's tail gave a small, startled twitch, curling reflexively around his waist as the other two students stood.
"Come along," Barinous said, holding out a hand to Nex. "Bring the deck."
The three of them made their way to the front, each looking a little awkward under the attention of the whole class.
"Step forward one at a time," Barinous instructed. "Shuffle the deck — do not overthink it. Draw three cards and lay them here, face up."
The girl went first. She shuffled cautiously, as if the cards might burn her fingers, then placed them down in a neat row.
Barinous leaned over them. "The Page of Wands, the Moon, and the Seven of Swords," he recited.
He looked at her. "Your past speaks of beginnings — untested skill, raw potential. The Moon warns of illusions in your present, of half-truths and misdirection. And the Seven of Swords…" His finger tapped the last card. "…suggests you may soon need to act alone, whether you wish to or not."
A murmur ran through the room as she quietly returned to her seat, brows furrowed in thought.
The boy came next. His spread: the Tower, the Eight of Coins, and the Sun.
Barinous gave a faint smile. "You've weathered catastrophe — one that forced you to rebuild from the ground up. Your present is a dedicated effort, honing a skill. And your future…" His hand hovered over the Sun. "…will be bright, should you stay the course."
The boy grinned faintly and went back to his desk.
Then came Nex.
His tail swayed nervously as he shuffled, but his hands moved with the ease of someone used to regular playing decks. Still, there was a hint of hesitation before he drew his three.
Barinous turned them over.
The Hanged Man. The Magician. Death.
The second-years stirred; even some of the first-years shifted in their seats.
"The Hanged Man," Barinous began, "is a card of perspective. Your past may have been shaped by delays or sacrifice, but also by revelations gained from patience. The Magician in the present…" He tapped the center card. "…is mastery — or the potential for it. Resourcefulness. Willpower. And Death…" He let the word settle in the room. "…is not always literal. It is a transformation. Endings that give way to beginnings."
Nex tilted his head, tail curling tighter. "…So… change?"
"Change," Barinous agreed. "Profound, irreversible change."
Nex returned to his seat looking both thoughtful and faintly unsettled.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Orin leaning forward slightly, watching the deck with interest. Zek wore that curious half-smile of his — the one that meant he was debating whether something was worth his time.
Neither of them volunteered to go up.
Barinous finally set the cards aside. "And that," he said, "is how a reading is performed. Keep in mind, interpretation is an art, not an exact science. The cards will not hand you the truth on a silver platter — they will only nudge you toward it."
His gaze lingered on the deck one last time before he turned back to the blackboard.
Still… there was something in his expression — a flicker, gone in an instant — that told me he'd read far more from those cards than he was willing to say.