A Seemingly Ordinary Knight

At the Magic Academy garden, rows of flowering trees lined the cobblestone pathway that led to a stone circle patio. In the center, a set of iron chairs and a matching table stood, their intricate designs curling gracefully, casting soft shadows on the ground. Sir William and the headmistress were seen siting there, engaged in a friendly afternoon conversation while sipping tea.

"So, how do you like it?" the headmistress asked, her tone light and curious.

Sir William, after a quick sip of the tea, still holding the cup, replied, "Not bad. In fact, it smells like Lilaen flower, if I'm not mistaken." He brought the cup closer to his nose, appreciating the aroma once more.

The headmistress, sitting with one leg crossed and her hand resting on her chin, smiled. "Yes, it's mixed with Lilaen flower. You have a very sharp nose, Sir William," she remarked, her tone soft yet subtly alluring.

Sir William placed the cup back on the table and turned his gaze toward her, offering a warm smile. "Why, thank you. Though I'm not a flower expert, I do know a few that are used in making tea," he said, still maintaining eye contact.

The headmistress smiled and took a sip of her tea.

"This one is rather exquisite. Lilaen flowers are hard to come by and quite expensive," Sir William added.

The headmistress giggled politely. "Well, we've been growing them here for some time now, though not in quantities large enough to sell. It's part of an experiment I've been conducting," she said.

Sir William's eyes widened with interest. "You do? That's impressive, my lady," he said, smiling, his gaze unwavering.

The sky was bright, and the wind blew softly as Sir William and the headmistress continued to enjoy their tea. Sir William decided to change the topic, steering the conversation.

"How has Aki been doing so far?" he asked, his curiosity evident.

The headmistress straightened her posture, taking a moment before responding. "He's doing remarkably well, if I may say so," she replied.

Sir William's interest deepened, and he leaned in a little as the headmistress continued, "Since the storm incident, he's recovered much faster than I could have imagined."

Intrigued, Sir William asked, "Is it true that the storm was Nishay's doing?"

The headmistress gazed at Sir William, her expression serious. "Aki sensed it with his foresight ability—an ability blessed upon him by the Goddess herself," she said, her voice carrying weight. Sir William's eyes widened in surprise.

The headmistress added, "He told me about it after he recovered from what I call his 'intoxicated' state."

"Intoxicated?" Sir William echoed, raising an eyebrow.

The headmistress nodded. "His magical properties are... quite unique, and powerful. Impressive, to say the least. But when he wielded that power for the first time, his mind and body couldn't handle it properly. He was, in a sense, intoxicated by his own magic power."

Sir William rubbed his chin thoughtfully, digesting the information. "So, his own power overwhelmed him?" he asked, his tone contemplative.

"Yes," the headmistress confirmed. "But he's slowly adjusting to it. His recovery is proof of that. With time and guidance, he may become one of the most formidable mages we've ever seen."

"With his curiosity piqued, Sir William asked, 'When will he begin his studies? I believe the first semester for new students starts at the end of this month.'"

The headmistress nodded, confirming his thoughts. "Yes, I've already arranged for Akimitsu to enter alongside the new students. I've set his curriculum for this semester, tailored to his needs."

Leaning back, Sir William inquired further. "Will he be studying with the other students?"

The headmistress took a sip of her tea before replying. "I've decided to let him study among the new students. I want him to acclimate to the environment and find his footing. Isolating him would do more harm than good. Furthermore, I hope that by being around others, he can naturally learn to control and wield his magic."

Sir William gave an approving nod, satisfied with her response. Just as he was about to take a sip of his tea, a servant entered the garden, bowing politely. "Excuse me, Sir William," the servant said, "a messenger pigeon from the Magic Research Facility has just arrived, carrying a written message for you."

Sir William raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the unexpected message. He glanced at the headmistress, who gestured for him to proceed, her own curiosity now piqued as well.

The written message read:

"I'm headed to the academy as soon as possible. We need to investigate the Rothrosia royal lineage, particularly the first lineage from 300 years ago. The academy archives might contain any writings about it. Master Frode has confirmed that sealed inside the mother crystal was a fragment of an unknown soul. This soul exuded a malevolent and evil aura."

The message ended with Sir Francis's signature at the bottom. Though Sir William's expression remained calm, a hint of seriousness flashed across his face.

The headmistress leaned forward, her curiosity piqued, and asked, "Who sent the message?"

After tucking the parchment containing the message away, Sir William replied, "It was from Sir Francis."

The headmistress wore an intrigued expression.

Sir William continued, "He's headed this way, specifically to the academy archives."

The headmistress, now in a thoughtful pose, responded, "I recall there are still a few writings that survived, mentioning something about the mother crystal."

"There are?" Sir William asked sharply.

The headmistress paused, seemingly contemplating what she was about to reveal. "However..." she hesitated for a moment before continuing, "It's better for you to see it for yourself"

Sir William now wore a puzzled expression, wondering what she meant.

Sometimes later Sir William, the headmistress, and a servant descended a dimly lit spiraling staircase, the way illuminated by glowing magic crystals mounted along the stone walls. The steps were narrow, forcing them to move slowly and carefully. After what felt like an eternity, they reached the bottom, coming face to face with an imposing set of wooden double doors.

The doors were massive, made of dark, weathered wood adorned with iron studs and intricate wrought iron handles. The design gave off a sense of age and importance, with black iron hinges securing them firmly against the brick frame. The servant, standing in front, fumbled through a ring of keys, searching for the right one to unlock it.

As the servant continued his search, Sir William broke the silence. "It would take a day and a half to ride from the research facility to here."

The headmistress responded, "There's actually a shorter path leading directly from the facility. It could reduce travel time by a full day. However, it's a bit risky."

"Risky?" Sir William asked, intrigued.

The headmistress nodded. "The path cuts through a swampy area, rather than a proper road. It's not the safest route, but it's faster."

Just then, the servant found the right key, twisted it into the lock, and with a soft click, the heavy doors slowly creaked open, revealing a large archive room inside. As expected, rows upon rows of tall wooden bookshelves stretched high up to the ceiling, which stood at least seven meters tall. Stacked neatly on the shelves were books of various sizes—some small, others wide and weighty. Above, chandeliers equipped with glowing magic crystals cast a warm, steady light across the room.

On the floor, boxes of documents, scrolls, and even stone slabs with carvings cluttered the space. Sir William took in the sight, his eyes widening in awe. "Impressive," he muttered.

The headmistress smiled slightly. "This is just the main room. The records we're looking for are in another section," she explained while leading Sir William deeper into the vast room. They walked past towering shelves until they arrived at a simpler wooden door, similar in design to the grand entrance but far less imposing.

The headmistress pushed it open easily, revealing a smaller, more cramped space. Unlike the main archive, this room was bursting at the seams with books and documents, stacked haphazardly on top of each other, nearly reaching the ceiling. It seemed like there was barely enough room to move between the stacks.

Taking a breath, the headmistress turned to Sir William and said with a chuckle, "It will take some time to find the information you need in here."

Despite the overwhelming sight, Sir William speak with optimism. "I'd better start then," he said.

The headmistress couldn't help but laugh softly at his determined expression.

...

It was late in the afternoon, and the sky was beginning to dim as birds fluttered back to their nests. In the middle of a swampy, muddy path, several figures struggled with a carriage whose wheel had become hopelessly stuck in thick mud. Among them was Sir Francis, his face strained as he called out, "Push!" He and several guardsmen braced themselves at the rear of the carriage, pushing with all their might, while others tugged at the horses, trying to free the vehicle from the muck.

Mud splattered everywhere, coating their armor and the sides of the carriage. Despite their best efforts, progress was slow and arduous, and all of them were drenched in sweat. Behind them, a second carriage sat waiting, with Sylvia and Amabel inside. Sylvia wore an unmistakable look of annoyance, letting out an exasperated sigh as she leaned back against her seat.

Her mind drifted to earlier, when Sir Francis had confidently suggested they take the shorter route to the Magic Academy. At the time, Sylvia, unaware of the treacherous conditions of the path, had fully agreed. Now, she peeked out of the carriage window, her brows furrowing as she watched Sir Francis and the guardsmen, covered in mud, straining to push the carriage ahead.

With a disappointed look, she muttered in a tone heavy with regret, "Why on earth did I agree to this?"

Her voice echoed slightly across the swampy terrain, and even the horses snorted in discomfort. Sitting beside her, Amabel could only muster a faint, helpless smile, her own thoughts just as weary of their unfortunate predicament. However, unlike Sylvia, Amabel seemed more resigned to their situation, though the growing tension in the carriage was palpable.

The soft squelching of boots in the mud and the grunting of the men outside filled the air as the caravan inched forward, but at this rate, it was going to be a long, uncomfortable evening.