Where every other teacher had some defining quirk that set them apart, Miss Lewington was as dull as they came.
Early sixties, slow voice, and a talent for making minutes feel like hours.
Introductions? Barely a formality. She skimmed through the curriculum with all the energy of a funeral bell, then, without ceremony, launched straight into the work—this, on the very first day.
From what Vael managed to catch between naps, magic history wasn't boring at all. In fact, it was the opposite—he found himself curious about how people had first discovered such a tool.
It unfolded like a living story, full of characters: mages, scientists, visionaries who had shaped the way society bent mana to its will. Wars were fought, kingdoms rose and fell.
It should have been fascinating.
Shame the teacher was determined to make it unbearable.
The way she taught was always the same: read aloud a passage from some lifeless textbook, assign homework, then review the homework the next class.
Rinse. Repeat.
Simply put—agony. So much so that Vael found himself questioning, not for the first time, why he even wanted to attend this school in the first place.
It all felt so restraining—like an eagle locked in a cage. He missed the freedom, the adventure. The rush.
Kiera seemed to feel the same, though neither of them voiced it. They both remembered what was at stake. Getting stronger, no matter how tedious the path, was the only way forward. Revenge demanded patience.
Besides, it was only the second day. Maybe, just maybe, things would improve with time.
At last, the class ended. To the students' relief, there was only one more lesson scheduled for the day—one Vael hadn't expected at all.
Religion. Specifically, the "new faith" sweeping across the land: Grenusaism.
Ever since crossing the Alps, Vael had collected bits and pieces of data regarding it along his journey. Now, he'd get the full picture. Or, rather, what "those high up" wanted him to see.
Still, he was starving. Unnaturally so. That's when he remembered he'd skipped lunch yesterday, forgetting all about it. And in his frenzy this morning, he had also passed breakfast. Needless to say, he and Kiera both bolted out of class toward the cafeteria.
On the menu today: the classic stew and bread. Vael did not complain. As long as it didn't taste like horseshit and was filling, he'd eat just about anything.
And the Academy's food most definitely did not taste like shit, and was most definitely nutritious.
The two of them got their food, found their spot from yesterday, and noticed it was already packed with the new students. So, they walked off to eat somewhere else.
They chose to head back to the dorms to eat—Kiera's, this time.
Her room was neatly organized, so much so that it almost felt like no one was living there.
They settled down on the floor, eager to dig in.
"Oh, right. Forgot to tell you about the fight," Vael remembered.
Kiera nodded. "So?"
"Well, to put it simply, we tied. Shame, really."
Kiera's eyes went wide in shock.
"Did you sneak in a hit for me?" she asked.
"Oh, I surely did," he replied with a smirk. "Wanna watch?"
And so, Vael shared his memories, as was the norm. Kiera saw it all—the heat of the fight, Vael's breakthrough, Oculor's role.
The beautiful sequences. It was magical. Real. Two fighters, aiming to kill one another. A dance with death, where both were the executioners and the condemned.
She held her breath at the climax, where Vael gained the upper hand—but inevitably, didn't win.
"You did good. Way better than me, at least." she added with a laugh.
"Yeah. Was fun."
With that moment over, Vael and Kiera chatted about everything and anything. Especially their next class.
"From what I've heard, Grenusaism is a polytheistic religion, meaning they believe in multiple Gods," began Kiera.
"Right, that commentator said something about a goddess of luck. Any other ones?"
"I've only heard of two, but I know there are five in total," answered Kiera. "Natela, goddess of luck, and Lucius, God of knowledge."