Now that she sat in front of me with her luggage and all, the hood off, I could have a better look at the reckless girl, who had thought to cross seven leagues and a half on foot in July heat, and somehow pass Belmesion's entrance exam as an afterthought.
She was close to my height, if not a little shorter, her face smooth as a baby's and expressive, eyes large and marble-gray. There was no chance she would be swinging a sword for the same reason as me, having next to no bicep, so she could only either be a gen-ed student or an aspiring mage.
No foolproof way existed to distinguish magicians from ordinary people, unless you caught them in the act. There was no mana circulation when the channel was closed, and they didn't differ from other people anatomically. Trained circuitry retained a certain base charge, though it was imperceptibly faint in novices. But those who dealt with large quantities of mana tended to have residual energy cling onto them on the outside, and these traces were easier to see. The stronger the mage, the more obvious the "smell" on them, although there were methods to remove it too.
Jumping to conclusions was always risky.
I peered discreetly over my glasses, and if I really tried, I could just about sense the mild aura shimmering about our passenger. It wasn't clear enough to tell if she was a mage, or just handled mana-based tools, or spent time near mages, or lived in an environment rich with energy. But there was also a much clearer sign.
The girl's short, slightly curled hair was pale ash-white throughout, though she wasn't an albino. That unusual lack of pigment wasn't chemically caused or a sign of old age. It was a symptom of an ailment infamous among mages.
Mana overload.
Attempting to channel power beyond the caster's capacity, until the natural inhibitors broke and the flow stole out of control, gushing through the mage's veins like from a broken hose…The usual consequence was a painful death, your insides torn and burned by the torrent of energy, or having your channel permanently fried, becoming unable to ever use magic again.
I'd seen it happen up close with my own eyes, too many times.
The fact that this girl still lived and had traces of mana on her could only mean someone had been with her when it happened, took control, safely rerouted the rampant power, and closed the channel without leaving any lasting damage. A process that delicate took deep knowledge and masterful control.
Whoever she was, this girl was lucky beyond belief to have had such a helper.
Even as I made my own deductions about the guest, she naturally did the same about us.
"Are you really not nobility?" she cautiously asked, examining me and Ms Asia. The two well-dressed young women on the seats in front of her and the graceful maid by her side.
"I'm not," Ms Asia said. "I'm just rich. Asia Ruthford. A pleasure to meet you. You can call me Big Sister Asia."
"Okay…"
Ms Asia was born noble, though. Her rank might have been stripped when she ran from home, or she gave it up herself, so I didn't feel like calling her out on the lie. As for me, being adopted by a noble didn't automatically grant you a peerage. I was only ever a nobody.
"My name is Hope," I said. "Nice to meet you."
"Ah, I'm Emily," the girl hurried to say. "Emily Troyard. Nice to meet you. Um, are you both students in Belmesion…?"
Both? The phrasing was so odd, it took me a beat to realize what she was talking about. Then I raised a brow at Ms Asia. Sure, she looked young for her age, but that young…?
"Hey, Hope," Ms Asia said. "Can we take this girl home? I want her."
What is this woman saying?
"Can you not talk about people like they're plushies in the store window?"
"I mean, come on!"
Emily blinked at us, confused, and I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache coming on.
"This woman is my aunt," I said. "She's going to be a lecturer, not a student. I'm taking the exam, though."
"Huh? Huuh!?" Emily shrieked, eyes wide, as she realized her mistake. "Seriously!? I thought you were sisters! Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"
"Thank you very much," said Ms Asia, quietly beaming.
Were all civilians fools?
The rest of the way, Emily and my aunt talked about magitech and the automobile and the academy, and I did my best to avoid getting involved. I knew hardly anything about any of those subjects. Then we were already cruising past a drowsy town sprawled in the corner of the greenery, called Grimons, right next door to the academy.
The campus lay upon languidly sloping hills further northwest, where the ranches and villages gave way to a steadily thickening woodland. Beyond and around the academy still grew an ancient arm of the great Wood, the forebear of all trees, from which life emerged once upon a time, and where hellions roamed to this day.
The campus was surrounded by a high fence of black steel, like giant spears stabbed into the earth. The highway curved past the school and a side branch shot off towards the tall main gate that stood framed by gaudy, gilded statues of griffins.
We presented our invitations, and the guardsmen posted to direct traffic let us in.
We weren't the only ones riding in automobiles. Several nobles had taken an interest in the machine, and the school had built a guest garage for them too. But most applicants still arrived by horse, decorative carriages, or even communal wagons. In the process, the entryway had turned into a mind-bending collision site of new and old caravans.
From the garage, a clean sand road took us across neatly trimmed grass fields overseen by aged oaks to the wide front yard. The long yard was framed by the Sword course students' dormitory on the left side, and the Magic course's on the right. A long, stepped stone pool cut in between the two in the middle of the yard, water steadily flowing from the raised back end. A covered walkway joined the two buildings and led to the upper yard, past which rose the main school building.
A grand mansion of slate-gray walls with a steep gable roof, soaring high in defiance of time and change. Examinees were instructed to wait outside before the front entrance for guidance. That was where our path parted from my aunt's.
"Good luck then, you two," Ms Asia told Emily and me.
"I don't plan to let luck have credit for my work," I replied, and she pouted at me.
"You could act a little more your age at moments like this."
"Certainly, my dear aunt."
"Thank you again for the ride, Lady Asia," Emily said and bowed low. Though it was already established that we weren't aristocracy. "You really saved me back there! I owe you so much."
"Don't worry about it," Ms Asia replied nonchalantly. "It was my pleasure. I hope you can be good friends with our Hope. And should you ever need a hand with anything, do let me know. Catch you later."
With an aloof wave, the woman bid us farewell and went into the main house.
I was left to stand side by side with Emily under a hesitant silence, as more applicants gradually gathered. Should I have said something?
My thoughts were mostly in the future already. I'd studied as well as I could, but the competition was going to be intense. Only the best of the best were welcome in this academy. Not one of these kids had come here to fail. And who did? I didn't want to become a dishwasher either.
Two groups of over three hundred pre-selected applicants would be tested on separate days. But each course only accepted sixty freshmen, respectively. At least five hundred hopeful young would have to return home disappointed at the end of the week. Even if I got in myself, there was no guarantee Emily would too, so bonding in advance could end up being for nothing.
I wasn't fond of saying goodbye.
I'd had enough of that. Too much.
"My God," Emily uttered, gazing around the yard, half awed and half anxious. "There are famous people everywhere you land your eyes. This school really is in a league of its own."
"Hm?"
I saw only plain ordinary teens. Soft and clean-faced compared to the hardy soldiers, knights, and war mages I'd lived with before. Unguarded and oblivious. Clueless. Even when surrounded by so many strangers, nobody showed any sign of being on guard. A few made an effort not to leave themselves completely exposed, but their inexperience came clear at a glance. I covered a yawn.
"Is there anyone I should know?" I asked Emily, for conversation's sake.
She raised a brow at me in exaggerated disbelief.
"You're asking me? Aren't you from the city? Shouldn't you know these people much better than I do?"
"I only moved to Canelon to attend the academy. I know nobody."
She chuckled incredulously. "Geez, come now. Nobody?"
"Not a soul."
Emily gestured at a stout boy across the yard.
"Surely you know that guy. That's Benedict Castellano, the son of the famous Royal Guard Captain, Stonewall Migel. Personally trained by his father, he's said to be one of the strongest swordsmen of his generation. There was a big story about him in the paper too, just the other day."
I did meet Stonewall once. Wasn't aware he had a son.
"And that tough-looking chick over there in the shade? She's Rosslyn Graves. Her parents were both knights of Bluemoon Blades. You know, the legendary elite unit serving directly under the Royal House? They won many big victories in the war, and are famous for their ancient sword arts."
"Right."
If that was true, then I felt sorry for Rosslyn Graves. Both her parents had to be dead. Almost all the senior Bluemoons were wiped out in the battle of Demon Causeway, on suicidally stupid orders.
"Oh! And over there!" Emily continued pointing, growing more excited by the moment. "See that little kid! The short stuff. She's got to be Diar Konoron, the granddaughter of the Archmage himself! They say she's a super-genius. And super strong! The youngest magician in history to reach Tier 6! She skipped grades and is applying to the academy at only thirteen. No, she's good as in already, right? How could they possibly send the headmaster's own grandkid away? Hahaha!"
I was Tier 7 at twelve. All right, my condition was artificially forced and not purely a result of personal effort or inborn talent, so I did feel a smidgen of envy towards that scrawny child in her baggy clothes, of whom I'd never heard before.
"And that pretty lady in white over there—I'm pretty sure she's Grainne Lafax, a priestess-in-training in the Order of the Golden Law. I've heard her affinity for healing is exceptionally high, and she can cure any ailment or injury, even bring back a person from the brink of death!"
Why did it seem like the main reason Emily knew these people was because they were pretty girls, and Castellano was only included for subterfuge? Was she an old man reincarnated as a mage student?
Then, a voice sharp and cold like a drawn rapier interrupted our celebrity-spotting.
—"Hey, you two over there! What do you think you're doing?"