It's an unforgettable moment when a caster finally understands what it means to have connection.
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The sound of thunder startled Gwyn awake. The candle still burned, with the wax in the same position as the previous night. She rushed downstairs and checked through the window. Rodrick's fist was the thunder that awoke her.
"Madam, Madam!"
She slowly opened the door.
"Yes?"
Did something happen?
"You're going to be late for school!"
He shouted urgently as if it were a matter of life and death.
Late?
"So?"
"So?!"
He garbled over his words for a moment. He stepped away and composed himself.
"Late last night, parents and caretakers received a message that school would resume today, and you are late!"
"It's fine, I've already been late like... six times already. I'll just skip—"
Rodrick grabbed her by the shoulders.
"You must never skip your education, madam!"
"Okay, okay. I'll—"
"Never!"
His mustached face was a twisted mess of disappointment.
"Okay! Let me get dressed."
Rodrick released her, and she went back inside. She looked for her damaged sapphire robe, but when she found it.
When did this get repaired?
She held out the robe. The robe, which had been frayed and scorched, was now as good as new.
Rodrick waited impatiently by the door.
"Every minute counts, madam!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming." Annoyance permeated every word as she threw the robe on, not quickening her pace at all. "Freaking feel like my dad's harassing me right now..."
"Did you say something?"
"Just said thanks for waking me up!"
He looked proud of himself.
"Don't mention it! But truly... There is no time! I'll carry you, madam."
He held out his arms.
"That's really not necessary."
"It is necessary, madam."
Was he going to keep calling me madam?
"Please don't. We can run if you—"
He was already a red blur through the brick path leading to the courtyard.
"To the coffin! Don't worry, madam. I'll make sure you get to school!"
Rodrick paced impatiently.
"Right."
Gwyn sighed and did a slight jog. She arrived pretty quickly, but much later than Rodrick.
"Are you even trying, madam?"
Rodrick asked, pulling her onto the ruby coffin.
She rubbed her arm.
"Ow! I am. I'm just not as... invested as you are."
Rodrick made a horrified expression.
"How can you not be invested in your education?"
The ruby tendrils enveloped them. Rodrick placed a hand on Gwyn. A moment later, they arrived in the Teleportation Sanctuary of Kaldere Academy. Rodrick briskly marched forward. Gwyn followed beside him.
"If you must know, I'm not as invested because I'm the unwanted stepchild of Keceo."
"That couldn't be further from the truth, madam."
"How so?"
"I mean…" He appeared bashful and slammed his visor closed. "The Young Master fancies you, madam."
"No, he doesn't." Gwyn laughed sadly. "He is using me to get back at Elise. The second they are back together—"
Rodrick shook his head.
"He was talking about a certain someone he met recently that he said was the most beautiful—" Rodrick stopped. "I shouldn't have said that."
Gwyn was wide-eyed at Rodrick's confession.
No way. Someone that hot can't possibly think of me as attractive.
Gwyn bit her lip and swallowed.
"I didn't hear anything."
"G-good! Because you need to save your hearing for your education, madam."
I don't think that's how it works.
"Right." Moments later, they arrived at Gwyn's classroom. "You wait out here. If anything happens, I'll shout for you."
He gave her a nod and stood by the door, as he did at her dwelling.
She entered the classroom, and the teacher immediately took advantage of Gwyn's tardiness.
"Ah, I see you didn't get blown up after all, Gwynevere Grim. Take your seat beside Griffith. We will continue where we left off."
No condescending tone, no hidden meaning. She sounded genuine and friendly.
Maybe I'm not as unwanted as I think.
Gwyn crossed the classroom and sat in the comically small desk next to Griffith.
"Up late again, huh? Is your kind capable of doing anything right?"
She ignored him. But this irritated Griffith even more.
"I heard that someone tried to kill you. Probably would've done us a favor if—"
"Griffith! Stop bothering the Chosen One, I am trying to teach."
He pouted and leaned back in his chair, giving Gwyn a nasty glare.
"As I was saying, tomorrow we will be having an assembly outside to teach the basics of magic. Now take these." She floated a dozen pieces of parchment across the room, one landing on each of the students' desks. "This is a permission slip. Have your parents sign it so that you can cast a simple lesser magic spell. If not, you will be waiting in Mrs. Bellbottom's class until we finish."
"Not Mrs. Bellbottom!" Some of the children groaned. "I don't want to go to Mrs. Bellbottooooooooooooooom."
They dragged out her name, clutching their desk and rocking them back and forth; some were foaming at the mouth. Gwyn was pretty sure this Mrs. Bellbottom was someone she should avoid.
"Yes, yes. Then make sure to get those slips signed and brought back then."
The young, mop-headed boy took out a small device and spat a wad of something at Gwynevere. It landed in her hair.
"Griffith!"
He whipped his hands behind him.
"I wasn't doing anything."
"Don't let me catch you again."
The Chosen One took the wad of paper and gently flicked it once it was out of her hair. She then contemplated sending Rodrick after the small boy. The action would have to be evaluated, pros and cons, so to speak.
So far, the only con she could think of was getting his blood on her freshly cleaned robe.
"Now that our Chosen One is here…" Mrs. Farcroft was clearly exasperated. "I can begin our lesson." She clapped her hands once. "Does anyone know what lesser magic is?"
Hermin's hand shot up.
"It's simple magic that doesn't require the use of a catalyst or words!"
"Very good, Hermin! Do you know why we don't need those things to cast lesser magic?"
"Oh… n-no…"
"Oh, don't look so embarrassed. This is a lesson typically reserved for the end of the year. I would be surprised if any of you knew."
Mrs. Farcroft cleared her throat, and when she did, Griffith leaned over and kicked Gwyn in the shin at that very moment, but Mrs. Farcroft was eagle-eyed.
"Griffith, if you don't stop messing with your girlfriend, you are getting detention."
The class laughed, and Griffith's face went a particularly bright shade of pink.
"S-she's not my girlfriend! I hate her!"
Oh, I can work with this.
"You don't hate me; you are obsessed with me. It's flattering, really. I can be your girlfriend if you want, Griffy," Gwyn teased, giving him a fake smile as she placed a hand beside him.
His face somehow managed to get redder as he shot out of his desk like Gwyn's hand was a viper.
The class continued to laugh, and even Gwyn found some enjoyment in the interaction.
"Okay, enough jokes, class." She pointed her catalyst at the young boy. "Stop disrupting my lesson, Griffith and I won't have to pick on you."
Griffith moved his desk away from Gwyn. He seethed in his seat. He looked towards the Chosen One, who was staring forward, a smirk visible on her face.
"The difference between lesser magic and regular magic is the amount of magical power used." The teacher continued. "Regular magic requires a great deal of magic, while lesser magic, hence the name lesser magic, requires far less magic and or mana."
She created an image of two hands on the board, one with a monstrous bonfire of flames, the other with a tiny ember.
Gwyn raised her hand.
"Why do some spells require words, and others don't?"
"Excellent question, Gwynevere." She pointed to the hand with the larger flame. "What comes to your mind when you see this image?"
Gwyn sat and thought for a second and said,
"Loss of control?"
Mrs. Farcroft gave her a little clap.
"You are not far off."
Hermin interrupted.
"Errrmm... But what about Susurrus? They don't need words to cast powerful spells!"
"Indeed, Hermin." She conjured a tiny ember in her hand without saying anything. "This uses very little magic. If I try to make it grow, it will only reach a certain point until I am not able to increase the flames' strength. In other words, when using lesser magic, the size of the flame depends on the potential of the user."
The ember grew to the size of a walnut in her palm, then ceased its expansion.
The class was astonished by the ease with which Mrs. Farcroft drew magic from within herself.
"My body will not physically let me draw more magic from within me unless I show intent to use more magic than necessary. Often called 'exceeding your limits'. Although unfair, some people are just born with more magical potential than others."
I think I understand.
"Then the image of the larger fire is what can happen when you cast a spell, and the other is what happens when you use lesser magic?"
Mrs. Farcroft nodded.
Several children then began to open their palms and tried to conjure fire—just a few sparks at most—but none succeeded. Gwyn even found herself flexing her hand trying to make fire appear, but with no success.
Mrs. Farcroft let out a little laugh.
"If magic were that easy to do, you children would've burned Keceo to the ground millennia ago."
"How do we do it?" Some of the children whined. "I want to burn stuff!"
"Ah, that's for tomorrow's lesson. Remember to get those permission slips signed by your parent or guardian, and we can cast all of the lesser magic you want tomorrow."
The bell rang, signaling the children's dismissal for lunch.
"Ah, shoot. Well, I'll see you all after lunch."
Griffith stormed out of the room, slamming into Gwyn's desk as he passed her.
That kid has anger issues.
The class departed, and Gwyn already knew what was about to happen.
"Gwynevere, may I speak with you for a moment?"
The young woman approached the desk, but she didn't feel as hesitant as before. She truly trusted Mrs. Farcroft now.
"Yes, Mrs. Farcroft?"
"I am sad to inform you. Tomorrow is your last day of school."