The Chronicles of Krarshe: The Hearts of Men, Volume 1
Chapter 5

Krarshe picked up the armor stand and set it against the wall. He breathed deep and let it out with a sigh, looking at the results of his hours of work. “Finally done.” He turned his gaze up to the sky in the training facility. It was night now and the waning crescent moon hung low in the sky while the second moon had yet to crest the horizon. A smattering of stars filled the clear sky, the luminous river seemingly ferrying the twin moons to the far horizon. Krarshe wiped the sweat from his forehead; the day’s heat still hung in the air, and the stone walls still radiated with the warmth they had stored from the sun. A small torch was the only thing that lit the room, which did little more than what the night sky did on its own.

After the spell he had cast that afternoon, Owyn was beyond angry, as Krarshe had expected. The students were all dumbfounded, unsure of what had happened. None of them said anything to Krarshe, not even Tibault or Bri. Owyn had demanded an explanation, but Krarshe had none to give. He had cast the spell just as the rest of the class had.

Without an explanation, Owyn was forced to just chalk it up to being an elf, and told the class that Krarshe had demonstrated the difference in mana pool between a human and elf. The class accepted the explanation, as far as Krarshe could tell, but there still seemed to be some suspicion. Krarshe was assigned to stay behind and clean up the mess he had made, while the rest of the class was dismissed for the day. The few remaining students who didn’t get an opportunity to cast the spell were told they would have to do it again another day.

As the class left, he could hear a few of them snickering and muttering something rude under their breaths. He thought a few were accusing him of casting a different spell. It was a fair accusation, having been a mixture of wind and lightning, except that they had heard him cast the spell. Every word was perfectly recited, Krarshe was sure of it. Why the spell came out the way it did made no sense. As for the force of the spell, Krarshe had thought he had held back. Quite a bit, he thought. Left without answers, he was forced to accept that it was just a fluke.

Krarshe sat down on the stone floor as he looked up at the sky. It was so serene, the night was quiet. Castle Ward didn’t have anywhere near the noise that Feyfaire did at night. If nobles wanted to get rowdy, they went to Feyfaire. They wouldn’t make a mess in their own yard. He sat there for a few minutes and listened to the sound of insects chirping. Occasionally there were faint voices from beyond the school’s walls, but it was very rare, and never loud enough to discern what was said.

He felt isolated.

He looked over the facility again. While he cleaned it as best he could, some things were beyond repair. The measuring device they had used was in pieces, the wooden frame and components had shattered to splinters. The stone wall at the far side... Well, Krarshe couldn’t do anything about that. It was a shallow crater where the device had slammed against it. A few shards of the wooden measuring device were still lodged in the fractured stone. The impact was apparently enough to shake the school itself, as it had shattered a couple windows, and the other teachers had come running out to see what had happened. The blame was set squarely upon his shoulders.

What really gnawed at him, though, was Tibault and Bri. Despite the rough start he had with both of them, he thought he was starting to make some real relationships, something he had never been able to do as a merchant. However, they didn’t so much as make eye contact with him when they left. Krarshe wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, but it did. Did he feel lonely? That feeling of isolation... Maybe it wasn’t just because of the quiet room he was in, alone at night.

Krarshe stood up. He had been alone before. In fact, he’d been alone for years. Travelling merchants rarely had friends, if you exclude their horse. He knew he would get over it. He walked to the scarred stone door and entered the school. He walked down the silent, dark hallway through to the store. He found the teacher that was left to wait for him to finish cleaning, one who taught one of the senior classes, and let him know he had finished cleaning and was heading home.

The old, gaunt man squinted at him through a small pair of glasses that sat upon the bridge of a large, bulbous nose and his long white mustache hanging from his lip down to nearly his belly. His white hair seemed to be in disarray, probably from the result of too many spells gone awry. “Ooh, yes, yes. I almost forgot that you were here. Heh heh,” he said, his old, quiet voice said slowly. “Be safe out there, lad.” He waved slower than he spoke, his hand rigid as if it was wooden. While Krarshe wasn’t certain, he seemed like one of the nicer teachers at the school. After the incident that afternoon, he was the only teacher to not make a huge fuss over it. He just kind of laughed. It was a bit odd, to say the least, but Krarshe appreciated not receiving more animosity.

Out in the courtyard, Krarshe made his way toward the gate. The school grounds were sort of eerie with no one around, void of the hustle and bustle of the day. What a first day THAT was, Krarshe thought. He was tired, more than he would have expected.

“H-hey, K-kuhrash,” a small voice said from around the corner of the store, struggling with his name.

“That’s a new one,” Krarshe commented before he even saw who it was. He didn’t need to see, he recognized the soft voice.

“Oh, umm... S-sorry, I’m not very good at pronunciation. Probably why spells are hard for me,” said Bri. “Karsh?”

Krarshe shrugged. “Close enough. Tibault can’t pronounce it either. He’s also wildly inconsistent. Maybe hold the last syllable more.”

“So, Karshe?”

“That’s workable,” Krarshe joked. He turned to face her. She was wearing a dress, one of those shorter one-piece dresses that he had seen noble girls wearing during the Sirnus cycles. It was purple or blue, exactly which one was hard to tell in the dim light of the night sky. Her chestnut hair hung down, spilling over her shoulders. In all, it looked good on her, though he dare not say that out loud. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was just wondering what happened to you. I never saw you leave for the day. Were you in there this whole time?”

“I only just finished cleaning up,” Krarshe responded, rubbing his shoulder as he rolled it. “Was pretty exhausting.”

“I can imagine. That’s real armor, after all,” Bri said. She stood there, rubbing her arm as she looked around nervously. “Hey, about that spell...”

“I don’t know,” Krarshe said, cutting her off.

“I didn’t even ask anything yet.”

“You were about to ask why that happened,” he retorted. “The teachers pressed me quite a bit about it. Simply put, I don’t know what happened.”

Bri shook her head, causing her bangs to sway back and forth. “I wasn’t going to ask that.”

“You don’t think I cast a different spell too, do you?” Krarshe asked.

“Who said that?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I heard a few students muttering about it on their way out.” Krarshe walked past Bri, over to a stone bench along the store’s wall and sat down. “I know I cast the right spell.”

Bri sat down next to him, tucking her short dress under her. She looked up at the sky. “I know you did, too.” She paused for a moment and then looked at him. “I would know. I’ve cast it far too many times,” she said with a smile.

“It showed. You were the best by far.”

The smile faded from her face. “Yeah...”

Remembering Professor Owyn’s snide remark, Krarshe turned toward her. “Ignore that dreg of a teacher. He’s not worth wasting your thoughts on.”

She laughed slightly. “I know... Thanks.”

“Besides,” Krarshe said, turning forward again and leaning back to stare at the stars. “He got what he deserved today when he ended up on his ass. And I helped him with his eyebrows.”

Bri giggled. “You really did. Tibault and I talked about them after class.”

The two sat on the stone bench, watching the moon and stars. The second moon was beginning to peek over the horizon before either spoke again.

“You know... Your hair seems to have a faint blue glow in this light.”

Krarshe turned to see she was studying his head. “Must be the moonlight,” he reasoned.

“Yeah, maybe.”

They returned to pensive silence and watched the night sky.

Bri leaned forward to stare at the ground, avoiding looking at him as she broke the silence. “Karshe,” she started, but then stopped. The way she sat and her hesitancy seemed to imply she was afraid to breach the subject on her mind. After a moment, though, she continued, “You’re powerful, aren’t you?”

Krarshe just continued to stare at the sky. This was a question he wasn’t prepared for, nor did he know how to answer. “I guess? I honestly don’t know. I never thought of myself as such, but I’ve never had anyone to compare to.”

“Really?”

Krarshe nodded. He sat quietly, trying to plan what he’d say next. Tragically, he was too tired to really think, and he just let them spill from his mouth. “Truth be told, this was not my first time using magic.”

Bri turned suddenly to Krarshe.

“I mean, it’s not like I did any major spells or anything,” Krarshe said, frantically waving his hands in front of him defensively. “That was my first actual spell. Up to this point, I’ve never actually recited one.”

The look on Bri’s face clearly showed her disbelief.

“It’s the truth. I swear it,” Krarshe said, trying to convince her. He wasn’t sure why he was being so forward about this. This isn’t something he ever expected to talk about with anyone. Why did he trust her so much? Or maybe he was too tired to rein in his mouth.

She sighed and turned to face the sky again. “I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it. It was a bit frightening, truthfully. But...” She stopped and sat there quietly, staring at the stars. “I wish I could get that powerful...” she said wistfully.

Krarshe looked at the sky, and then back to her. He could make out her brown eyes, shining with the stars, or maybe they were glistening with tears once more. He wished he could help her, but what could he do? He didn’t understand this kind of spellcasting. Even his own spells went awry. There was nothing he could do to help.

“You’ll get there. I know it,” he said, the only token comfort he could offer.

Bri just sat there quietly. She closed her eyes and muttered something Krarshe couldn’t make out.

“What?” he asked.

Bri stood up from the bench. “Nothing.” She brushed the back of her dress where she had sat on it. “Are you living in the dorm?”

Krarshe shook his head.

“You should get going then. They’ll be closing the gate soon, and they will think nothing of locking you in here.”

“Really?”

Bri nodded. “And they won’t let you stay in the dorm either. Not without paying at least.”

Krarshe jumped up. “Yeah, I should leave then. I still have a long way to Feyfaire.”

Bri raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re staying in Feyfaire? That’s a long way.”

“Yeah, but it’s a lot more affordable than anything in Castle Ward.”

“Sounds like you have it hard. Well, I won’t keep you.” Bri turned toward the dorms. “See you tomorrow, Kaushe. Karshe?”

“Close enough,” Krarshe said as he started toward the gate once again. “See you tomorrow, Bri.”

The isolation continued the next day at school. It was different compared to yesterday, however. While he wasn’t overtly ignored by the students as they came into the room, it felt like they were trying to keep their distance from him. They would stare at him and whisper to each other as he looked out the window, only to avert their gaze when he looked back at them. It was unsettling in a way that he hadn’t experienced before.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Krarshe turned to see Bri, gesturing to the seat next to him. He shrugged. “I think Tibault has claimed that seat. So feel free.”

Bri chuckled. “Well, hopefully he doesn’t mind. I can just move if I have to.”

Krarshe returned to staring out the window, counting the stones that were illuminated by the morning sun. This would become habit if he kept at it, he knew, but he didn’t mind it. He could hear the whispering of the students start again. A bit more than it had before.

“They’re such a nuisance,” Krarshe muttered, still staring out at the world outside.

“Hmm?”

“Our classmates. It seems I’m the centerpiece of their gossip today.”

Bri looked around the room, noticing all the stares and secretive whispering. “Seems like it. I wouldn’t let it bother you, nobles just like to gossip. I always tried to brush it off as nothing.”

“Oh? I’m surprised you’ve had to deal with this before.”

“Pretty much started with my third go-around,” she said quietly.

“Oh...” Krarshe shrunk back into his seat. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m past the point of caring,” she said.

“Didn’t seem that way yesterday,” Krarshe responded, hoping he didn’t just make a huge mistake.

Bri punched him in the arm. “You think I’m too weak to recover from that? You don’t know the pride of the Bulliere family!”

Krarshe rubbed his arm. Her punch had a surprising amount of strength behind it. “My apologies, my lady.” They both exchanged smiles before Krarshe turned to the window again.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“How can you look at nothing?”

“That’s a good question, but too philosophical for this time of day. To be more specific, I’m watching the sun as it passes over the stone pavement.”

“That... sounds painfully boring,” Bri said with a straight face.

“No more boring than listening to Owyn,” Krarshe replied, grinning back.

Behind Bri, Krarshe saw Tibault hurry into the room. “Hey! You took my seat!” Tibault said when he saw Bri sitting next to Krarshe.

“Told you,” Krarshe said to Bri.

“Do you want it back? Would you really demand a lady surrender her seat?”

Krarshe turned to look at Tibault. His hair was back to its curly brown mess. He must have tried to make it look better for the first day, but given up on it today. The fight must not have been worth the trouble. Tibault pursed his lips, caught by Bri’s trap.

Tibault sighed. “I’ll just sit here,” he said, defeated.

A wide smile spread across Bri’s face. “Boys are too easy...”

“Settle down, and take your seats,” Owyn’s voice boomed. He came in swiftly, walking across the front and slammed a book down on his desk in the front left corner of the room.

“Oh boy, he’s angry,” Bri said, barely above a whisper.

“Yesterday?” Krarshe asked.

“Most likely.” Bri turned to Krarshe. “What you did yesterday was probably a first for him. I know I haven’t seen anything like it in my time here.”

“You did damage the school,” Tibault whispered, leaning over toward Krarshe, practically on top of Bri.

“No talking!” Owyn slammed his hand on the desk. Bri and Tibault sat upright and the entire class froze, still as statues.

Owyn smoothed his hair back, tightening the ponytail. He reached into his pocket and pulled out that white stone again and began to write. It was apparent that Owyn had no desire to go through formal greetings the way he did the first day.

“What is that he’s writing with? I hadn’t seen it up until yesterday,” Krarshe whispered, leaning in toward Bri.

Bri turned to Krarshe, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “You haven’t seen chalk before?” she whispered back.

Krarshe shook his head. “Is that what it’s called?”

She nodded.

Guess there really is a lot I don’t know about the world still, Krarshe thought, sitting upright again.

With the final stroke on the chalkboard, the chalk snapped in half, startling the class. It was probably more to do with the anger Owyn was displaying than the act of snapping chalk, Krarshe reasoned. The class was clearly on edge.

When Owyn turned back to the class, he had written out a series of characters. Each strange scribble paired with a character in the common tongue. “We’ll be learning the writing system used in your books. With this, you’ll be able to read a variety of spells. Be sure to take notes.”

Notes? On what? Krarshe wondered. He then saw the other students had paper, ink, and quills on the tables in front of them. Tibault scrambled to get his materials out, laying a crumpled paper on the desk as he hurriedly tried to smooth it out ineffectively. Bri just sat there, watching the lecture.

“W-was I supposed to buy ink and paper?” Krarshe asked Bri.

Bri turned to Krarshe and then covered her face with her hand, exasperatedly. “Curse me, I knew I forgot to tell you something yesterday.” She took the hand from her face and leaned in toward Krarshe. “After we left the training area, he told the class to bring them today.”

“Oh, my, Krarshe. Are you UNPREPARED for class today?” Owyn asked, stepping toward Krarshe’s table in a dramatic fashion. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to watch and hope you can manage.” He flashed a smirk as he turned back toward the board.

Krarshe couldn’t believe it. He would have believed that Owyn had just forgotten to say anything to Krarshe, but that smile dismissed any possibility of that. This was intentional. This was spite. Was he really that upset about yesterday?

“Don’t worry, I have all the notes for this class,” Bri whispered to him. “I’ll share them with you later.”

“Thanks,” Krarshe said. “The two of you are really saving my life here.”

“What?” Bri asked, then turned to Tibault inquisitively.

“I, uhh, snatched the last spellbook in Feyfaire, so I offered to share it with him.”

“Now I’m starting to suspect you’re doing this on purpose, Karshe,” Bri said as she shot a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, her head cocked to the side accusingly.

Krarshe just smiled.

The lecture proceeded for what felt like an eternity. The class feverishly scribbled the characters on their papers, trying to keep up with the lesson. Owyn snapped countless sticks of chalk as he wrote, almost as if he was deliberately trying to go too fast for the class to keep up. Krarshe heard a few students mutter curses as the faint sound of snapping quills or the clink of tipped ink wells could be made out over the screeching of the chalk. Poor Tibault was beginning to sweat as he tried to keep up, his penmanship becoming increasingly messy and illegible.

There were a slew of these strange characters. Several of them appeared to be sounds that matched multiple letters in the common tongue, some as many as four. What is this convoluted alphabet? Krarshe asked himself. This doesn’t even begin to make sense.

As the sunlight reached the last and final stone in the courtyard, Owyn clapped. “And that’s all of it.” There were audible sighs and groans of relief as nearly everyone collapsed, heads resting in their arms on the tables. “We will take a break here for lunch, and then we will do another practical lesson with a new spell. I’m sure, this time, everyone will cast the correct spell,” he said, enunciating every word as he turned to Krarshe. “You are all dismissed.”

Bri reached one arm high above her head, gripping it with her other hand in a big stretch. “This lesson gets more boring each time I sit through it. Come on, Tibault, don’t look so down,” she said, giving him a slight shove. Tibault just groaned a response as he laid his head on his crossed forearms in front of him on the desk.

“So, where would you like to buy us lunch today, Tibault?” Krarshe joked.

“I’m not buying you anything,” Tibault said, muffled by his arm. “Not after you two just sat there all lesson, carefree as could be.”

Krarshe and Bri laughed. “Come on, I’ll buy today,” Krarshe said, standing up.

“I just want to lay here until I rot away, Teva taking me in her embrace,” Tibault groaned.

“You’ll like the afternoon lesson,” Bri said, trying to encourage him, patting him on the back. She immediately pulled her hand away, looking disgustedly at her palm that was now coated with Tibault’s sweat. She shook her hand a bit, and then wiped it on her uniform’s skirt. “Though, I’m more concerned about it than I was last year...” She looked at Krarshe.

“I didn’t do anything,” Krarshe exclaimed.

“Yeah, except nearly destroy the school,” said a voice from the other side of the room.

Krarshe and Bri looked in the direction of the voice; Tibault lifted his head. Armand was huddled with the group of boys he was at the tavern with yesterday. Their faces were twisted in contempt.

“I didn’t do that,” Krarshe said, repeating his defense.

“Yeah? Then who was it who wrecked the academy’s equipment? Who was it that nearly injured everyone? Huh?” Armand blurted out.

Krashe knew that technically, his accusations were accurate, leaving him without a retort. Honestly, he just wanted to ignore Armand and not give him the attention he so desperately wanted. Seemed the wisest route.

“No one was ‘nearly injured’,” Tibault fired back before Krarshe could counter, attempting to back up his new friend. He was sitting upright, alert, as though his previous fatigue was just an act.

“This doesn’t concern you, lesser noble shit,” Armand said with a sneer.

Tibault clicked his tongue and looked away, at a loss for a comeback.

“I cast the same spell you all did,” Krarshe stated.

“Yet, none of our spells were tainted with lightning.” Armand wasn’t letting up. The situation was only getting more heated. “You trying to show off, you fucking elf? Think you’re better than us?!”

“Him being an elf has nothing to do with it! It WAS the same spell! I know it was!” Bri shouted at Armand, standing up aggressively.

Armand snickered. “Yeah, you ought to know. How many times have you been through that lesson? Seven? Eight?” His friends laughed. Krarshe wanted to just smack that smug expression off his perfect face.

Bri clenched her teeth, her fists tightening. Tears began to well up, though Krarshe was unsure if they were of anguish or anger.

Krarshe could read the situation. If he just continued to sit quietly, this would escalate. He wasn’t looking for a fight, but he didn’t want to let Armand get away with insulting his defenders either. He stood up, and walked over to Armand and his posse, each step coming down hard and deliberate enough to draw everyone’s attention. The students who hadn’t left yet all held their breath as they watched, anticipating a fight. Armand’s friends cowered away as he approached. Armand stood there defiantly, but Krarshe could see his uneasiness.

He got face to face with his antagonizer. Krarshe could feel himself tensing, his own anger beginning to take over as he faced down his foe. He breathed deeply before suddenly backing off from Armand. “Let’s go,” Krarshe said to Bri and Tibault. “This krun isn’t worth our time.” He fired a smirk at Armand and turned to walk out of the room. Bri and Tibault hurried after him, exchanging disgusted looks at Armand as they passed. Armand’s legs gave out and he flopped into his chair again as the class all released their collective breaths.

“Five curses on you, sprite,” Krarshe heard Armand grumble, followed by a slam of his fist on the table.

Lunch passed uneventfully. Neither Krarshe nor his friends wanted to talk about what had transpired in the classroom. It wouldn’t have changed anything, and bringing it up would just frustrate them further, so they all just ate together in silence. As they returned to the school grounds, Krarshe saw Armand through the window, already back in his seat. Or maybe having never left.

“Hey,” Krarshe started, addressing his two new friends. They both stopped and looked at him. “I appreciate that you both stood up for me there b-”

“Of course we would,” Bri said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Tibault chirped. “He was being...”

“A jerk,” Bri finished Tibault’s statement.

“Not the word I would have picked, but yeah.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Krarshe said finally. “But, you don’t have to do that. I don’t really know who your families are, or what family he’s from, but if you’re both nobles, I don’t want you feeling like you need to defend me. I wouldn’t want you tarnishing your family’s reputation because of my actions.”

Tibault and Bri just stood there quietly, surprised by his comment. “Listen,” Bri began, but then stopped, seemingly still formulating her thoughts.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Tibault said. “It’s like he said, I’m a lesser noble. Can’t be thought of any less than that anyway. And I’m sure my family would be happy to hear I stood up for someone.”

“There is honor in that,” Bri agreed. The three were quiet again, standing out in the empty school courtyard, the hot Sirnusian sun bearing down on them. “Regardless, let us be the ones to decide how to hold ourselves, as nobles,” Bri said with a smile.

Krarshe was at a loss for words. Even in such a short time, it felt the three of them were already closer than he had been with anyone since he struck out on his own. Finding this feeling was why he started this journey in the first place. He could feel himself choking up as he thought about it. He swallowed hard to try and regain his composure.

Krarshe raised his hands in resignation. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll just do whatever I feel befits a commoner and leave you two to act on your own.” He started toward the classroom entrance again.

Bri and Tibault just looked at each other and laughed slightly before hurrying to catch up to Krarshe. As they entered the room, the class hushed and just watched them. Armand was the lone exception, avoiding all eye contact and staring at the table he sat at. His handsome face was more appealing to look at when he was so visibly annoyed.

Not a minute later, Owyn came in. He immediately pulled out another stick of chalk and began striking the chalkboard. The class took the subtle hint and quietly hurried to their seats.

“For this afternoon, we’ll be learning a light spell,” he said as he finished writing out the spell, spinning around to face the class fast enough for his ponytail to sweep around from behind him to drape itself around his neck like a thin black scarf. His eyes were still filled with fury as they looked directly at Krarshe. “Normally,” he started with emphasis, “we’d just cast this spell in this room. But, given the incident yesterday, I’ve deemed it safer to go out to the training area again. So, ahem. Repeat after me.”

Owyn recited the spell, with the class following. The spell itself was significantly easier than the wind burst spell was, with fewer syllables and ones not particularly complex. After a few repetitions, the teacher clapped and led the class out to the training area once again.

“Wow, you did a good job,” Tibault joked as he observed the training room, noting the stark difference between the mess Krarshe had made yesterday and how neat it was now.

“He was here until second moon, after all,” Bri clarified.

“Quiet!” Owyn yelled at the two of them. Bri and Tibault jolted, and then looked down at the ground, embarrassed. “Now, simply hold your hand like this,” he explained, holding his hand out, palm up, “and recite the spell.” He recited the spell, and a glowing sphere appeared floating above his hand, about the size of his head. “The more mana you release, the brighter it will be. But, you do not need to exert a lot of effort for this exercise. Just creating the orb will suffice.” He looked at Krarshe. Clearly, his words were directed at him. “You may all cast at once. And don’t get confused with the other student’s spellcasts. It’s not unusual for multiple mages to be casting at the same time, so you must learn to focus on your own cast and not be distracted.”

Krarshe walked over to the far corner of the facility, slightly behind the stone wall that separated the equipment from the main section. He figured if the spell went out of control again, it would be better to put a wall between him and the other students. He watched for a moment as the other students slowly began finishing their casts. Bri cast without hesitation, creating an orb nearly identical to the professor’s. He didn’t take any notice, instead focusing on the rest of the students. Tibault appeared to be struggling, before moving away from the other students. After less than a minute, most of the class managed to create an orb of light.

Guess it’s my turn, eh? Krarshe thought to himself. Let’s see if I can release just a bit of mana this time. Though, it’s only a light spell, so it should be fine.

He held out his hand. Owyn immediately looked over at him, watching carefully. His wild eyebrows lowered, clearly focused. Krarshe breathed. “Just a bit,” he said to himself.

He recited the short spell and an orb began to form above his palm. Almost as quickly as it began, the orb’s light burst forth from it and overwhelmed the light from every other student’s orbs. It even dwarfed the light from the sun. The light was so intense that not a single shadow could be seen. Krarshe heard Owyn start cursing and crying out about his eyes. He looked over to see everyone shielding their face from the light.

Well, I guess it’s technically right? Krarshe thought. He stood there confidently, until the first bolt of electricity came arcing off of the orb and striking the ground between him and the rest of his class, causing the stone floor itself to shatter and erupt with a shower of debris, leaving behind a small crater. Before he could react, a second bolt of lightning struck the wall of the storage area, bouncing off the wall and crashing through some armor stands. Another fired off, crackling into the sky. A fourth struck the wall, causing more stone shards to explode from where he had just cracked the wall the day before.

Krarshe stopped his flow of mana as quickly as he could, cancelling the spell instantly. He looked at the class. As they lowered their arms, they beheld the smoking pits his lightning had left behind, their eyes going wide, jaws dropping. Professor Owyn, curled up in the fetal position, continued to clutch his eyes with his hands, shouting profanities, apparently blinded by the light of Krarshe’s orb.

Krarshe made eye contact with Tibault, who just stood there, mouth agape. He turned to Bri, who was making a nervous, toothy smile at Krarshe, clearly concerned by what she saw but not wanting to alarm him. As with the day prior, the senior teachers came rushing out a moment later. They looked at the destruction for a moment before running over to Owyn. The older teacher from last night just looked around the area, nodding slowly as he stroked his long mustache. He seemed to just be marvelling at all the damage Krarshe had caused, not a hint of concern or malice showed on his face.

The other teachers helped Owyn to his feet, and guided him out of the room. One stopped and addressed the class. “You’re all dismissed for today.” He turned to look at Krarshe. “You, please wait here until we return.” He then grabbed the elderly teacher, still lost in his own thoughts, and pulled him out of the room.

As the students began to filter out, Krarshe was able to make out some snide remarks. He caught a passing glare from Armand as he left the room. Krarshe knew this was only proving that smug kid’s point and he hated it. Bri and Tibault came over to him.

“Whoa,” Tibault said, as he walked past the crater in the middle of the floor, looking at it more closely. “This was way worse than yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Bri agreed.

“I... I tried to hold back,” Krarshe stated.

“That’s holding back!?” Tibault exclaimed, pointing at the nearly demolished far wall.

Krarshe shrugged.

“That’s two spells that have somehow gone awry,” Bri noted. “I’ve never even heard of this before.”

“I don’t think the teachers have either,” remarked Tibault.

“Why do you think they’re having me stay behind?”

Bri shrugged, shaking her head. “I haven’t the slightest clue. Can’t be good though.”

Krarshe sighed. “Well, what’s the worst that can happen?” he asked cheerfully, trying to stay optimistic.

“Reported to the Council of Mages,” Tibault answered seriously.

“Don’t even joke,” Bri reprimanded him. Tibault gave a shrug, his face twisted in concern. “Hopefully that’s not the case. That would be disastrous.”

“I guess I’ll replace out soon enough.” Krarshe looked at the damage he caused. The craters were beyond his ability to deal with. He looked at the storage area. Only a few pieces of armor looked damaged. They appeared to have blackened, deformed in a few spots. Two breastplates had fallen over, welded together. “Glad I decided to do it over here though,” he said pensively. “It could have killed someone if this wall wasn’t here.”

“I mean...” Bri started, looking at the crater in the middle of the room, but stopped herself. She didn’t need to say it, it was clear what she was thinking.

“You two should get going. I’ll be fine,” Krarshe said. “Even if I get kicked out, or something worse, I’ll be sure to replace a way to tell you guys.”

“Right,” they both said quietly, their eyes lowering.

“Well, good luck,” Bri said as she turned to leave.

“Yeah, best of luck,” Tibault echoed, following her.

Krarshe watched them leave. It was like he had been in almost this exact position just a night ago. Sitting alone in the training room, listening to the deafening silence. There were some midday flies buzzing around his head this time, though. He sat there, watching the sun march its way across the sky and swatting at flies, awaiting his sentence.

For the next hour, Krarshe was alone with his thoughts. He meandered around the training room, first picking up the equipment he damaged, or the ones that could still stand. Once that was done, he kicked chunks of stone around absent-mindedly before thinking to put them back from where they had escaped, or as best as he could. After that, though, he was out of ideas for constructive things he could do to pass the time, so he spent the remainder just sitting on the ground, staring at the sky.

Finally, one of the professors returned and beckoned for him to follow. Krarshe obediently, meekly, followed the balding, heavy-set gentleman through the dimly lit hallways of the school. As he passed the other classrooms, he noticed that they were empty. Perhaps the senior classes had also been dismissed. Eventually, they arrived at his classroom where the other four teachers, including Owyn, were waiting. Owyn’s eyes appeared to have recovered, though they looked quite wet, likely a result of whatever treatment they had given him. The teacher who had led Krarshe in closed the door as they entered and joined the other teachers.

“So, Krarshe, was it?” asked the hefty teacher.

Krarshe nodded.

“That name, very curious...” he said, more to the other teachers than to Krarshe. “Well. We’ve been informed by Professor Owyn about the two recent mishaps in the training room. For whatever reason, it is clear the spells you are casting are not acting normally. You don’t happen to be carrying any enchanted items that would result in this, correct?”

Krarshe shook his head. “Nothing, sir.”

“No... curses on you? Nor your family?”

Krarshe furrowed his brow. “Not to my knowledge, not through tale nor sensation.”

“Sensation?” asked the long-mustached teacher.

“From what I know of them,” Krarshe explained, “curses tend to affect mana differently from spells. And if you were cursed, you could feel it in your own mana.” Krarshe paused. The expression on the teacher’s faces, both as they looked at him and at each other, implied this was new information to them. He may have just triggered a trap. “At least, that’s what I heard,” he added.

“From whom, might I ask?” another of the teachers asked. His thick, bushy beard hid his mouth. If his breath from his question hadn’t blown on his beard, Krarshe wouldn’t have known who had asked the question.

“A mage that my father knew. During his time travelling as a merchant.”

The unknown teacher nodded slowly, hand on his chin thoughtfully, as he watched Krarshe closely. “And sensing mana?”

Krarshe knew he couldn’t pin this on his fictional father’s mage friend again. So he tried another tactic. “It’s something taught to everyone where I’m from,” he said. “A small country, north of Armia,” he added quickly before they could ask.

“I see... I wasn’t aware this was part of elven upbringing, though I wouldn’t be surprised...” The look on the teacher’s face told Krarshe that this was sufficient convincing. The other teachers seemed content with that explanation as well, save for Owyn who was still scowling at him.

The teachers huddled together and talked amongst themselves. Krarshe watched their expressions as best he could. He could make out inquisitive glances, disapproving looks, and angry glares; the glares were exclusively from Owyn. Krarshe looked past them to the windows. There were still some students mulling about and socializing in the courtyard, free from their classes for the day. He didn’t recognize any of them, so he guessed they were mostly senior students.

After a moment, the teachers turned back to Krarshe. After clearing his throat, causing the fat folds of his neck to jiggle, the heavy-set teacher spoke up again. “With the cause still being a mystery to us, the fact remains that twice now your spells have gone out of control. Endangering your class is grounds for expulsion.”

Krarshe anticipated this. He had already prepared himself mentally, and had begun thinking of new adventures he could go on. As he was about to ask if he could reclaim some of his tuition money, the heavy teacher spoke again.

“However, Professor Landry has requested that you stay,” he said, gesturing to the long-mustached one in traditional mage robes. Professor Landry gave a small bow and smile, which Krarshe reciprocated, slightly confused. “He wishes to conduct tests with you, to see if he can understand this anomaly.”

So, I’ll basically be used for experimentation. That... may be worse than expulsion, Krarshe thought.

The teacher continued. “As you have paid your tuition, you are still allowed to access the classroom lectures, if you so desire, when Professor Landry is busy with his class. Additionally, as he has other duties after midday break, your afternoon practical sessions will be spent in the store we run here instead.”

So, not only am I a test subject, but I’ll be a merchant. Again. Krarshe stifled a sigh. Best not to let them know what he thought of his punishment. He looked over at Owyn. He was looking away, looking as grumpy as he had when Krarshe walked in. Is he POUTING? Is he a child?

“Do you have any questions?” the teacher asked, finishing his explanation.

Krarshe shook his head again. “No, sir.”

“We should just expel him!” Owyn finally cried out. “He tried to blind me! This was a deliberate attack!”

“That is not clearly known,” said the fifth teacher, spoken as softly as his gentle, pale features would have led you to believe. “Besides, this anomalous behavior must be studied. On that, I agree with Landry.”

“As do I,” said the heavy teacher. “An unknown like this could bring us much attention. Letting it leave would be a mistake.”

‘It’? I’m an ‘it’ now?

“But!” Owyn contested.

“This debate is over, Owyn,” Professor Landry said sharply, a side of the old man Krarshe hadn’t seen in his brief encounters with him. At this, Owyn backed down, unable to challenge the old man. Krarshe figured there must be some form of seniority taking place here. “Krarshe, please go seek out Cyril in the store and tell him I requested he show you around the store and explain what to do. I have a class tomorrow, so I will see you two days from now. You are dismissed,” Landry said with a kind, old smile.

Krarshe bowed, and left. After the door shut, he could hear Owyn start complaining again. I guess this punishment isn’t all bad, he thought with a smile. Funny, though. I wanted to move on from a merchant, but here I am again. He sighed, and headed to the store to replace this Cyril so he could reluctantly restart his merchant life.