Chapter four: Charity

The Academy’s grounds were a great distance from end to end. At its center was a statue, tall and proud, if not of a king, then perhaps the man who’d founded the academy. Although the crown on its head suggested it would be a king.

The other buildings were as pristine as the one that housed the headmaster’s office which Diedrich informed Kilvic was called the Administrative building. The building which his classes was held was called the literate building.

And as they walked past active classes within the literate building, he felt the air rattle from one of the rooms as someone used magic strong enough to cause acceptable disruption to the elements of air.

Eventually, Diedrich stopped before a door. “This, student, is your current class. After you are done here, I will be glad to show you to your quarters.”

“I don’t think that would be necessary,” Kilvic told him, adding when he saw the contemplation in the man’s upturned gaze: “I intend to make at least one acquaintance and have them show me to the dorm.”

“An acceptable idea.” Diedrich opened the door to him and he stepped in. “However, I would suggest you make it a male acquaintance; the genders do not share quarters.”

Before Kilvic was an arrangement of long desks rising from the front of the room all the way to the back where students sat in uniforms of purple and black with an insignia against their left breasts; the colors of the kingdom.

The teacher wore a red robe as he spoke over a table holding tools Kilvic assumed were required in the teaching of the class. But while similar tools were in front of each student, he noticed they paid them no attention. Instead, most of their faces were contorted in concentration as they focused on the space between their hands held out as if holding an imaginary skull of some ground eagle.

He’d barely stepped in when he noticed that while the students were trying to learn, there were two seated midway up the line of desks who were trying to experiment.

The boy at the edge of the desk wore a mischievous grin, his hands held out before him while the other next to him scratched the table quietly, an impish grin on his face. It took Kilvic a moment to realize what the boys were doing. Whatever the instructor had them focusing on, the second boy thought it a smart idea to add flakes of wood to the mix. If it were simply flakes, there would have been no cause for alarm. However, seeing as it was a magic class, it was safe to assume there would be a magical implementation involved.

Two mages trying to forge bound magic, Kilvic realized as he walked into the classroom, disregarding the decorum required of a new student as was the norm he’d been taught.

Ignoring everything around him, he hurried his pace, making sure not to seem alarmed. People were like animals, and Ariadne always said if he wanted to keep the animals around him calm when trouble was afoot, then it was best not to let them smell his worry. There was no use panicking the entire herd.

He watched the flakes of wood settle within the space of the boy’s hands, and his accomplice turned giddy. The flakes floated, suspended by a l**k the mage had forged. The wood crackled mildly; not enough to make a sound.

The girl beside them who had been concentrating on her hands looked up to see their experiment and a panic flashed across her face. At least they’re not all stupid, Kilvic thought as the girl abandoned her lesson and linked her fingers. Her lips moved in a quick incantation and her brows creased in renewed focus, then her lips pressed into a thin line.

Kilvic walked into the isle closest to him as he grabbed the hem of his shirt. In one motion, he ripped the fabric, returning his hand with a good portion of it. As he crossed the isle. passing people who would be his classmates without care, he linked the cloth to the necklace in his pocket, activating the shield spell to protect it. A student coughed when he passed as the air dried around him as he drew on the humidity to moisten the fabric.

The boys looked up just in time to catch his arrival. Fools. If the boy had held his concentration, then perhaps he would have been able to limit the effect to just himself. But now that he had succumbed to distraction, the girl who was probably trying to invoke a shield spell would be caught in the blast.

Tossing the torn fabric over the space between the boy’s hands he watched the first of what would be many sparks ignite. The piece of cloth settled above it but didn’t fall. Something kept it from making contact. His gaze flickered to the girl. A shield spell was basic magic, but what a person of her caliber would conjure wouldn’t be enough to save her from the blast unscathed. But to invoke the shield on something else was quite impressive; commendable, even. In her place she still held her undivided concentration, eyes pressed shut, hands clasped with finger intertwined, and her lips firmly shut. Concentration, Lady Jenis would’ve said, had never looked so focused.

Still, it wouldn’t be enough. His hand moved over the cloth and he brought it down on the now repeating sparks. As expected, the shield gave as much resistance as the air around him. His hand and the piece of fabric cut through it like a knife through air and clamped down on the space, then he drove it to the desk, flattening the whole thing under his palm. Done, he fixed his gaze on the boy and a loud pop erupted on the table.

“Ms. Ariadne!”

Kilvic ignored the instructor, his eyes never leaving the boy as the girl shot to her feet.

“Sir,” she answered, quickly.

“What was that noise?”

There was a hesitation as he felt the girl’s gaze flicker to him. “Nothing, sir,” she answered.

There was another pause and the class fell into the cacophony of subdued murmurs. I should scold them, Kilvic thought, the boy still focused on his gaze. Magic is not a game for children to play and prod with. It could’ve been bad. It is not your place. The last thought came with a simplicity, as would happen when someone considered how best to catch a fire serpent only to realize there was no reason to hunt one.

A moment later the instructor spoke again and Kilvic was forced to break eye contact.

“Master Kilvic, would you be courteous enough as to take a seat?”

Closing his hand around what was left of the fabric on the table, he turned to the instructor and bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”

He rounded the desk to the side of the girl and waited for her. Recognizing his action, she shifted for him and he took his place at the edge. While she said nothing as the instructor returned to his lesson, and Deidrich who’d been standing beside him left the class, the girl returned her hands to mirror that of the other students. Kilvic said nothing about her lack of concentration on her task as her gaze remained on the brown desk which was now riddled with branching lines of black burns.

“Hi.”

Kilvic turned his gaze to find the boy responsible for the flakes holding out his hand to him from across the girl with a wide smile. “I’m Moss Tudri.”

Kilvic ignored the hand. “Kilvic Rudric.”

“So you’re not a noble?” Moss asked, hand still held out.

The other boy smacked him behind the head. “Of course he’s not, you twit,” he said. “Do his clothes look like that of a noble to you?”

“But he was walking like one,” Moss whined before dropping his hand. “Stiff backed and all, as if he owns the place.”

The boy smacked him again. “Sorry for his stupidity,” he told Kilvic, quite oblivious of his own. “I’m Stratin Nerwich. And that,” he motioned to the girl, “is Ariadne Tulsip.”

Kilvic nodded. “Kilvic Rudric.”

Stratin’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Yes, I heard.”

Kilvic turned to the girl. “Would you be willing to tell me your name?”

The girl’s attention snapped to him only just realizing she was meant to be a part of the conversation. “Ariadne Tulsip,” she mumbled, obviously still eager to return to her study of the table.

Kilvic nodded. “Moss. Stratin. Ariadne.”

The boys nodded while Ariadne watched Kilvic.

“How did you do it?” she blurted suddenly.

“The question,” Kilvic countered, turning his attention to the boys, “should be, why would two students be attempting bound magic when they just started at the academy?”

Both boys at least had the decency to look chastised at his words, but it was the girl that answered.

“Moss and Stratin are an acquired taste. You’ll get used to them, eventually.”

Not understanding how her response related with the question, Kilvic settled for the expression of a raised brow.

“If you decide to spend time with us,” she added quickly. “Seeing how stupid they can be, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the only time you choose to spend with us.”

“And what about you?” he asked. “Are you an acquired taste?”

“Yes,” Moss chirped.

“No.” Ariadne shot the boy a look, he seemed the bigger of both boys while they were seated, then turned back to him. “At least not like them. You could say I stay with them so they don’t kill themselves or the other students.”

Kilvic pondered on her words. “That’s why you realized what they were doing before the others?” It wasn’t really a question.

Ariadne nodded.

Which meant she sacrificed her safety for the sake of both boys and those around them. Back home Ariadne had taught him that a master of a ground eagle would often give the beast a charm against fire instead of his mage horse, not because the mage horse didn’t need it, but because even though the ground eagle had a better resistance to fire than a mage horse, it was the one he used to hunt fire serpents.

Fishing inside his trouser pocket, he wrapped his hand around the necklace. He had forgotten to give it to the headmaster but somehow he knew the man wouldn’t appreciate it, simply because a man of his caliber wouldn’t need it.

“I have a gift for you,” he told her. “Will you accept it?”

Moss chuckled, and Ariadne smacked him on the head again.

“Kilvic… I don’t… I’m not sure how to say this.” Ariadne scratched at her elbow nervously. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but we just met.”

Kilvic’s brows furrowed in puzzlement. Was there something he was missing? He thought for a moment, and finding nothing, said, “What does that have to do with anything?”

It was her turn to look confused, and Stratin joined in Moss’ chuckle. Whatever was amusing them wasn’t obvious. Ariadne straightened her back and looked at him. “It’s really sweet,” she began, “but you can’t just offer someone a gift the first time you see them. You have to get to know each other first.”

“I don’t understand. I’d thought you’d need it, considering what you just told me about these two and how you spend time with them to keep everybody safe.”

“Wait, what?”

It seemed there were more things to learn about relating with others than his parents had been able to teach him. Kilvic caught himself in a frown. The ways of relating with others were already so many, and now he had to learn more. Annoyingly, he’d never come across this kind of event amongst the children back home. At the thought, he wondered if his mother had gotten rid of them along with the slaves.

“What do you mean, ‘you think I’ll need it’?” Ariadne asked.

Kilvic shrugged. Perhaps there was more he didn’t understand. If she felt there was nothing she’d need to handle Moss and Stratin, then he’d simply misunderstood.

“Do you have it here?”

He turned to look at her.

“The gift,” she clarified. “Do you have it here.” Then added after he nodded: “Can I see it?”

With another shrug he took his hand out of his pocket, taking the necklace with it. Now that he looked at her, the piece seemed to match her aesthetics. Brown eyes, pink lips and brown hair with a smattering of black, she was pleasing to look at; like one of the paintings his grandmother so enjoyed. And with skin as bronze as hers, the crystal would only serve to add to her appeal. It struck him then why she had misunderstood. Thinking it best not to draw her ire, he stopped.

“Perhaps there’s no need for it,” he said.

She grabbed his arm, halting its retreat.

“I’ll be the—”

She froze. The words silenced in her mouth, she stared at him with a grave caution in her eyes accompanied by shock. Slowly, she released his arm, putting a lot of caution into the act. When she spoke again, her voice held as much caution. “May I see it… please.”

Kilvic blinked twice then showed her the necklace.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Yes,” Moss agreed, staring at it with Stratin, both wide-eyed. Then he looked at him. “And no doubt very expensive.”

“Perhaps,” Kilvic replied, not caring for the attention. “But not entirely the reason I have it.”

Now Ariadne looked back at him with calculating eyes. “Then why are you giving me?”

“Because it will serve you better.”

“So it’s not a gift.”

“It is.”

Ariadne shook her head. “It’s not a gift for me.”

Kilvic wasn’t sure why she was frowning. “When someone offers something without expecting something in return or being asked or required to, it is called a gift.”

“It could also be called charity.”

Kilvic nodded. “Or a donation. Or a generosity.” Deciding two synonyms would be satisfactory, he continued, “but this is a gift.”

Somehow, his words hadn’t appeased her. If he wasn’t mistaken, her frown had only grown worse.

“How did you come by it?” she asked.

“I bought it.”

“What did it cost?” Before he could answer she cut him off. “No, don’t tell me. Who did you get it for?”

“No one specific.”

She scoffed. “So you expect me to believe you’ve just been carrying this in your pocket for no one?”

Kilvic wondered if the girl knew her voice was rising. Until now they’d all been whispering. He’d thought it for the sake of not distracting the other students, or perhaps a form of respect towards the instructor. But seeing the looks on the faces of Moss and Stratin he had a feeling they were also worried by the volume of her voice, which left one thing. She was upset.

“Ariadne, when I got this, it wasn’t as a gift. I got it because I felt I would come across someone who would have a need for it. Considering what you’ve said, I think if Moss and Stratin are as dangerous as I just witnessed then you would need this necklace.”

He waited, watching her face for the slightest change. His words seemed to work. At least the calculation returned to her eyes and she worried her lower lip between her teeth.

“What does it do?” she asked, finally.

“The crystal carries a shield charm.”

She snatched it from his grip immediately. “I’ve always wanted something like this.”

Kilvic turned his attention to both boys who’d returned to chuckling. “Does something else amuse you?” he asked.

Stratin nodded, then Moss answered. “Ariadne here is more dangerous than we are.”

“Maybe,” she shot them a look, “but not to others.”

Perhaps they won’t be the best choice for friends, he thought, then let his gaze wander. It settled on a desk with only two occupants. They were dressed in a more refined version of the uniform his companions wore and they seemed in control. Maybe they would be a better choice. But seeing as Ariadne now had the necklace, he would have nothing to offer them.

His attention returned to Ariadne. She’d asked him a question and he wanted time to think on it while hoping she’d think he hadn’t heard it, and perhaps let it go.

Apparently, she had other intentions, because she spoke again while trailing one of the black branches in the desk with a finger. “You never answered my question. How did you do it?”

Moss and Stratin were as interested in the answer as she was. You’re here to learn, not teach, Kilvic reminded himself, as he was seeming to do constantly now. But if he didn’t answer, it would shed a little suspicion on him. The kind that breeds distrust. And Lady Jenis always said trust was important in any friendship.

So with a knowing smile, he placed the piece of cloth on the table. At its center, where it had received most of the blast, was a burnt hole. Then he tapped the desk, tapped the cloth and deepened the smile on his lips into a smirk.

“Wood,” he answered, “cloth, and a whole lot of fucking paranoia.”