Blood Curse Academia - Orientation

Chapter LXXVIII (78)- The King’s Falcon

Kizu blasted through his tests as quickly as possible. The results didn’t really matter all that much for the paper tests, and he wanted to get back to practicing his jumping near a beacon. He hoped to get in a bit more practice before meeting with Roba. Every day this week he had trained for hours, to the point of nearly collapsing in exhaustion. All with the goal of bypassing the academy beacon and warding scheme. Thankfully, he could afford to be reckless, because at the end of every day when he returned to Owl’s Respite, Anata was always there to refresh him. And today he thought he might finally be on the cusp of breaking through the beacon’s pull.

When he arrived in the room next to the beacon, he immediately began practicing. After half a hundred new attempts, he finally managed a partial success. Instead of being entirely transported into the beacon room next door, his most recent jump dragged him toward it, but not all the way. His spell was finally strong enough to fight against the beacon’s constant tug. He couldn’t resist grinning maniacally at his success. And then he managed to start replicating the success, around half of his next jumps also fighting back against the beacon. It required a great deal of focus and knowledge of the beacon, but he could get past it now. Sometimes.

The grin shifted to one of smug satisfaction as he approached Roba’s office a few hours later, eager to see the old woman’s face when he showed her his rapid growth of his new skill at their appointment.

However, the smirk slipped as he walked in. Gone were the epic windows featuring bizarre ocean fish from the bottom of the sea. Instead, he walked into a room with a dry heat and white marble walls.

Instead of Roba, the headmaster sat at a desk at the end of the room. He looked up from under his black top hat as Kizu stepped inside and smiled under his curling mustache.

“Welcome, Kaga Kizu. Please take a seat.”

A leather armchair appeared in front of the desk, directly facing the headmaster. Kizu did as commanded and sat down.

“Where-” Kizu started.

“Are you?” the headmaster finished for him. “You’re in my office, dear boy, surely you could come to that conclusion on your own.”

“But why?” Kizu asked, a bit miffed about being cut off.

“Because I wished to speak to you. You and your niece caught my attention the other day and I decided to take time out of my schedule to converse with you further.”

“About anything in particular?”

“I have a proposition for you, Kaga Kizu.” Headmaster Ballarfulur rested his elbows on his desk and leaned in. “You’re a good student. Long before meeting you in person, I meant to check in with you. However, now I moved you up in my priority list. I’ve checked in on your rankings and seen your development. I also recall receiving a letter from your roommate, Basil, a few weeks ago. And, after speaking to my secretary, I believe I understand your current goals.”

“Thanks?” Kizu said. He didn’t see where this was going. He had forgotten about Basil’s letter. In fact, before putting it out of his mind, he’d assumed the changeling had been lying about contacting the headmaster. He wondered what exactly that note had said.

“You’re most certainly welcome! My praise is well deserved. I don’t believe I have seen Roba so frustrated in a few years. Not since that unfortunate situation with Professor Arclight’s predecessor. She despises mysteries or being ignorant of knowledge. Your sudden growth has vexed her quite thoroughly.

“However, I believe you could still do better. You just need a little more of a push. So, I am putting something down on the table for you.” Headmaster Ballarfulur paused dramatically. When Kizu didn’t respond, his smile widened further. “As of this morning, your current rankings are as follows- Combat- 643, Astronomy- 221, Divination- 103, History- 799, Politics- 799, Rejuvenation and Restoration- 799, Conjuring- 799, Brewing- 1, Numerology- 799, Music- 712 (piano), Enchanting- 341, Illusion- 83, Elemental- 308. Which, as Roba told you last week, is quite remarkable based on where you started.”

Kizu noticed that his rankings hadn’t improved very much in the last week. He had to remind himself that others were also improving and passing him just as he did to others. And he had spent the week focused on spatial spellwork with portal creation and jumping. Still, it was a bit disheartening after his previous improvement.

“If you add all those scores together with a bit of basic math, they come to a total of 6,407. Now, my offer for you is this. If you manage to get that total number down to 1,000, I will tell you where your sister currently resides.”

Kizu’s heart skipped a beat. His mind seemed to break for a couple seconds.

“You know where Anna is?” he said, completely in disbelief.

“Not personally. But a friend of mine does.”

Kizu stood up, knocking the armchair backwards. “Please, help me find her!”

“Once you descend down to the total rank of 1,000,” Headmaster Ballarfulur repeated calmly.

“Why?” Kizu said, for the first time since talking to his mother he felt genuine rage directed at someone. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth. “That will take forever. If you know, just tell me!”

“I am an educator. Although, my recent duties seem to involve everything but the task of teaching, that is my official work. But, if you wish for a more practical answer, you will die as you are now. Her environment is far more dangerous than anything you’ve faced. And that includes your little escapade down below. I can’t in good conscience tell you her location at the state you currently exist in. I prefer my students to stay alive. Now, sit down. I want to tell you a story.”

The armchair behind Kizu jolted back into position, buckling Kizu’s knees as it rammed into them.

“This is an old story from my homeland,” the headmaster launched into his tale, not giving Kizu a moment to protest. “A place very far from here. A land where magic is far less common and far more coveted.

“There once lived a king. This king, above all other things, found joy in hunting. He loved the thrill of the chase, and the joy of the capture. And so, his companion, above all others in his court, was his beloved falcon. Beyond her natural beauty and skill, she was a wise bird and retained a sixth sense for the best days to hunt. Whenever she signaled to him, the king would cancel everything scheduled for the day and leave on a hunt.

“It was on such a day that he abandoned his kingly duties and went out into the desert canyons. There, he found the most magnificent gazelle in the world. He vowed to have it for his own, and so his falcon flew up and assisted him in cutting it off at the canyon’s end. She flew down, right at the canyon’s exit and blinded the animal with her talons, clawing out its eyes. Together, they proved triumphant as the king speared it from his saddle.

“Unfortunately, the king had outpaced his royal retinue in his haste for the hunt. They had become lost in the canyon's winding passages. The king and his horse though were incredibly thirsty from the chase, and without his men who carried their supplies, the king went to find a natural source to quench him.

“He found a small pool of water beneath a tree that offered them shade. The king dismounted his horse and filled his helmet with the water to give to his horse. However, just before the horse could drink, the king’s falcon swooped down and knocked the helmet out of the king’s hands, spilling it on the dusty ground.

“Irritated, the king scolded his bird for its jealousy. He explained to it that if it wished to drink, it could either do so from the source or exercise patience. Then he knelt and scooped more water into the helmet. But, just as his horse bent its head to drink, the falcon again knocked it out of his hand with a wing.

“At this point, the king became furious with the bird. They had very little water left in the pool, and none to waste on pettiness. For a third time, he scooped up the water into his helmet. And for a third time, his falcon knocked it from his hand with a wing.

“The king snatched up his spear and rammed it through his bird’s offending wing. And, as the falcon fell to the dusty ground, it pointed up with its remaining wing. Up to the tree branches above the pool of water where a tiny draco scorpion lay in wait. The king watched with horror as a drop of venom dripped down from the scorpion’s stinger and into the pool, he had foolishly been gathering water from. It poisoned those foolish enough to drink, killing them in minutes. Then it would feast.”

“What happened?” Kizu asked, his anger having faded into intrigue by the story.

Headmaster Ballarfulur shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “The falcon died. And the king returned to his duties, alive.”

“So, the falcon suffered because of the king’s pig-headedness and he got away without punishment? The bird’s loyalty to someone undeserving shielded him from his own stupid actions?”

“I suppose that’s one way to view the story. But, let me ask you, would you rather be the falcon or the king at the end of the story?”

Kizu paused.

“The falcon,” he admitted.

Headmaster Ballarfulur nodded. “The king did not escape away without punishment. He went to the grave knowing he killed the thing that loved him more than any other. And, I have it on good authority that mankind will never be able to punish another quite as effectively as someone can to oneself. We are our greatest critics, for only we have transparency to see our most personal flaws. Some philosopher’s believe the mind to be its own place. Our minds can inflict torture far crueler than anything physically incurred.”

“Why are you telling me this story?”

“It popped into my head the other night after our brief discussion and I wanted to share it. Plus, I thought it might serve a secondary purpose as a tasty morsel of what history class can teach you. As this is a true story, by all accounts, from my homeland. I hope it may inspire you to finally put a bit of effort in.”

“Krimpit doesn’t teach stories,” Kizu said dismissively. “Half the time, his history classes aren’t even true. It’s pointless to listen to them.”

The headmaster chortled and twisted one end of his mustache. “You sound like a child half your age. But I suppose that’s the norm for those around your stage of development. You often tend to devolve a bit for a while around puberty.”

Kizu opened his mouth to protest, but Headmaster Ballarfulur continued on.

“You’re correct, but not in a way that matters. You misunderstand what history is. Often, people will say that ‘history is written by the victor,’ but that’s not accurate either. In reality, history is written by whomever is around. History isn’t about truth, it’s about what people in a culture believe to be the truth.

“Professor Krimpit recently taught you the history of our island, correct? What if I told you the story he told vastly changes when taught in academies in Tross. And even more so in Hon academies. Hon especially likes to shift the narrative when reciting history. But we all do it to a degree. It’s all a matter of perspective.”

Kizu thought on that. It was an interesting approach to Krimpit’s lessons, to view it as his version of the events rather than the absolute truth that he believed it to be.

“You promise that once I make it to a total ranking under 1,000, you’ll get me in contact with your friend?” Kizu asked the headmaster.

“Absolutely.”

“Fine. I can make that happen.” It would be monumental, but he knew he could make it work. The real question was, how long would it take? With Anata’s help, he could get the spellcraft rankings. The paper tests were different though. History and politics seemed especially impossible with Krimpit at the helm of his education. And he dreaded numerology next semester. But, in truth, this was his most certain lead.

Headmaster Ballarfulur dismissed him. Kizu stood and started to leave.

“Also, one last thing. A certain chef down in the kitchens alerted me to a theft a few weeks back. If you are going to steal academy resources, please at least be a bit more discreet about it in the future.”