The following is a selection of exchanges via mail over the years.
S: …and speaking of, I am glad that you are expanding your horizons. I thought you lacked the hunger of a true mage, but here you are, requesting so many tomes and grimoires. Did you finally decide to dive beyond the surface of other disciplines, I wonder? Or is it merely some tangent for your usual boring monster-research?
In any case, there is also page 317…
A: …which is why I believe you are being unreasonable on the subject.
As for tomes, once again, thank you for going along with my requests. They are invaluable.
To be frank with you, while I do go through them, mainly, they aren't for me, but rather for a class of mages I mentor.
I failed to think of that before, but that won't be a problem, will it? If I somehow deceived you when asking for those books, I apologize.
Now, as for your critique of the segment…
S: …will increase.
Don't apologize for things you clearly aren't sorry for. Besides, this is hardly a deception when I never bothered to ask what you needed those tomes for in the first place. You didn't even request that many, just some that were a bit uncommon.
Do with them as you please. I disagree with many of your methods, but clearly disclosing some of your own secrets managed to produce impressive results. I still dislike it on principle, but I can't deny that much.
I expect your response posthaste so we can finish the publication.
— S
***
The morning was overcast, a thin layer of clouds turning sunlight into something gray. There was no wind to speak of.
The platform was erected from the same dark granite that formed the mountains around us, using my most-used earth-shaping spell. Three steps raised it above the courtyard.
Behind me, the main building of the academy was nearly complete. The walls stood finished, the windows fitted, but scaffolding still clung to the eastern side where work on the roof continued. The dormitory to the left was in a similar state. Workers had been given the day off for this occasion.
Before me stood the first class of the Dornpass Academy of Mages in Nascency.
Fifteen students. I had interviewed each of them over the past month, tested their aptitude, and assessed their resolve. Seeing them gathered together like this was a bit surprising.
The youngest was a boy of thirteen who had walked three days from a village I didn't know the name of. His parents were farmers. He stood near the front, trying to look composed. I had learned during his interview that his name was Saat. He had cried when I told him he passed the assessment. Now he looked resolved, if anything.
There were a few others around his age. A girl whose father owned a tannery in Sturmkamm, her name was Gerber. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back. Then there was a young dwarf named Funke, barely into adulthood by his people's reckoning.
The rest were older. Schacht, a woman in her thirties who used to work in the mines before an accident took two of her fingers. She had been the most skeptical during her interview, asking practical questions about what she could realistically expect to achieve. Wache, a man who had been a caravan guard for twelve years and decided he wanted something else. A former apprentice baker named Teig, who had given up his position to be here. Klinge, a retired soldier from foreign lands with gray in his beard, who stood at the back with his arms folded.
They knew me already. The nervous reverence from our first meetings hadn't gone away just yet. They were here to learn, with hopes and aspirations.
I briefly cast Resonant Soul on myself, so that the cheat-sheet I had finished writing the previous night appeared before my eyes. Due to the spell's effect, I couldn't see anyone or anything before me, only my own desk from yesterday night. I made sure to glance across where I remembered they stood in spite of that.
"My name is Albert," I began. "In this region, I am known as the Hermit."
I paused, mentally calming myself down. The nickname was abhorrent.
"I am also known as 'A', author of several publications in the city of magic, Äußerst." I let that hang for a moment. "Most of you are not mages, and you come from this region rather than the Northern Lands, so you are likely unaware of what that signifies. That is fine. You will learn in time." I said quite honestly.
I allowed silence to linger for a moment.
"My primary field of study is monster research. I created a new branch of magic called chimerology, which concerns the creation of artificial living creatures. Custom created monsters, if you will. Beyond that, I am proficient in enchanting, good with combat magic and golemancy, decent with necromancy, and I meddle in most other magical disciplines to varying degrees."
I dismissed the image from in front of my eyes so I could see them again.
Saat's mouth was slightly open. Gerber had gone very still. At the back, Klinge's expression hadn't changed, but he was paying closer attention than before. Schacht looked like she was reassessing something.
"You are all here for one reason alone: to learn magic. And I can teach you." I told them sincerely, meeting the eyes of each aspiring student.
Then I cast Resonant Soul again, returning to my notes.
"You are all of different ages and come from different walks of life, but all of you are here for the opportunity. All of you have enough talent to succeed."
That was true. Testing for talent was the second most important reason for the interviews I conducted. The first was to make sure people were actually motivated to study, and not merely seeking free food and accommodations.
"All that remains is to put in the work." I told them sincerely, even as I dismissed the image once more. While I generally believed what I was saying, I was less concerned with the students and more so with myself.
I had experience training Teuflisch. I had exchanged knowledge with an adventuring mage or two over the years. But the people I trained before were already talented to a degree and already proficient in some form of magic. They had the right foundations for my help to go smoothly.
All of those people before me were novices. Complete and utter novices when it came to magic. And everyone present was older than ten.
Generally, if you are older than ten, you don't get to learn magic.
It would take a human, and dwarves too I would reckon, around three to five years just to practice mana control and develop their reserves enough to cast middling spells consistently. I wasn't even talking about combat magic, just for actually practical enchantments and folk spells that were generally much less taxing.
In all seriousness, teaching these people anything of value was never my first, second, third, or even tenth priority for this academy.
But if I were already stuck overseeing this institution, I might as well do a good job. Which is why I did, in fact, have the whole course planned out.
"Right now, there are two members of the faculty," I said. "I, Albert, and he..."
I lifted one of my hands, and from my shoulder, a creature ran across my arm and nestled on my palm.
"...Protos."
Saat's eyes went wide. Gerber leaned forward slightly, curiosity overtaking her composure. At the back, Klinge's arms remained folded, but his gaze sharpened.
"For the first month, you will have two days a week to rest, work, or travel back to your families. Otherwise, you will dedicate yourself completely to your studies." I paused, letting the words settle. "All of you would normally be too old to study magic, so the leisurely pace that children are usually afforded won't do for you."
Schacht's expression tightened. She had asked about this during her interview.
"That said, don't be alarmed." I reassured them, "If you work hard, by the end of the month, each of you will be able to cast a single folk spell of your choosing. In week two, I will present several grimoires, and all of you will pick what sort of spell you wish to learn." This was mainly to sweeten the deal.
I could see excitement spreading through them. Teig, the former baker, was practically bouncing on his heels. Even Klinge had unfolded his arms.
The people I had searched for over the past few months were those who wanted to learn magic but lacked the opportunity. Without a mentor, one can hardly become a mage worth anything. And if you aren't born into a family with a mage, hiring a mentor to teach the trade is incredibly expensive.
Many people showed up to the recruitment office I rented in Sturmkamm. Most had unrealistic expectations, or were unfit physically or mentally, or lacked talent, or lacked motivation. Those who passed every assessment were the fifteen people before me.
I whistled quietly.
Protos purred happily. Then, in a snap, the excitement was sucked out of the air and into him.
For a moment, no one moved.
Saat blinked several times, his face slack with confusion. Gerber touched her chest, as if checking whether something had been taken from inside her. Schacht's eyes narrowed, and I could see her working through what had just happened. Wache, the former caravan guard, had dropped into a half-crouch without seeming to realize it.
At the back, Klinge hadn't moved. But his hand had drifted toward his belt, where a weapon would have hung if he still carried one.
"This is another important matter," I spoke up, keeping my voice even. "Protos here is my greatest helper. He is an experimental type of chimera I created. He eats excessive feelings."
I did not mention that technically he ate all feelings, and was merely trained not to sap people dry.
"He will be there to consume any extra excitement, resentment, or disappointment you may have built up during classes, or during your private studies. He is also the reason for the emotion-manipulation clause in the contract you all signed."
Schacht's expression shifted. She remembered the clause. And I remembered explaining it away to her.
"He is the only one who will be allowed to roam both male and female sides of the dormitories, as he can sense strong emotional outbursts and help you manage them. His job is to keep you productive, no matter how you feel about it." I looked across the group. "I am asking everyone present to accept this."
No one spoke. Funke, the young dwarf, looked uncertain. Teig was staring at Protos with an expression I couldn't quite read.
I clasped my hand tighter around the creature, who made a surprised purr, and tossed him down toward Gerber. She caught him on instinct, then froze, holding him at arm's length.
Protos chirped and nuzzled against her hands.
"He enjoys pets and snacks," I explained. "And is also incredibly durable."
Gerber looked down at the creature, then, hesitantly, drew him closer. Protos settled against her chest and began to purr.
Saat edged closer to look. After a moment, Schacht did too, though her expression remained guarded.
"You will have a very busy schedule for the first month," I continued, "but after that, there will be a lot of self-study and scheduling involved. Try to set yourself up for the correct pace. Humans are creatures of habit."
I shaped a simple spell, and the stone platform beneath me began to flatten until it grew almost even with the ground.
"Now, before we proceed to the first class, allow me to give you a tour of the facility."
***
Two months later,
"I absolutely refuse." Zaudern's voice was hoarse, but he still managed to put some force behind it. He folded his arms on his chest, the gesture making him look smaller in his chair rather than more imposing. "You may be a legendary mage three times over, Albert, but that doesn't mean you can turn a bunch of neophytes into enchanters in less than a year. I've trained apprentices. I know what it takes."
The old man's eyes were sharp despite his age. He meant what he said, even if the way he said my name betrayed familiarity that undermined the harshness.
Zaudern elected to meet me at his home, which is why we were currently at the dinner table. By we, I mean Zaudern himself, several butlers, a young man whom I assumed was Zaudern's grandson, and a dwarf.
That dwarf was Glühen. Unlike his frail-looking old friend, he looked just fine. Dwarves aged slower than humans, and while the two of them were childhood friends, Glühen was still a young man by his race's standards. He sat with his elbows planted firmly on the table, watching the exchange without comment. His plate was already empty.
"I wasn't asking you to hire them, or to give them actual enchantment work," I explained, meeting Zaudern's eyes. "The truth of the matter is that most of them aren't interested in enchantment work. Much like you when you were younger, many seek flashier types of magic."
Zaudern's mouth pressed into a thin line. He clearly knew perfectly well what I meant.
"In essence, what I propose isn't a full apprenticeship under your guild's masters. Nothing of that sort." I continued before he could interrupt. "I am offering them to you for manual magic-related work. They need to practice mana control, and some very basic enchantment work is perfect for it. I can simply provide them with materials myself and have them create the base for useless trinkets. Moreover, that's what I was doing for the last two weeks. But it's inefficient. Waste of time and material, just for practice. I thought cooperating could help your guild by saving the mana of your actual masters for more complicated work, while also helping my students by giving their work some actual meaning."
Zaudern shook his head slowly. With his fork he pushed food around his plate without eating.
"You are as unreasonable as they used to say you were," he muttered.
Glühen snorted.
The dwarf turned to me, his gaze direct.
"What can they actually do? Your students. Be specific." He asked simply.
I appreciated the lack of preamble.
"Basic mana infusion. Charging prepared materials. Infusing some existing enchantment with their mana. Sustaining simple mana-isolation circles while a master works is also possible, though this is a bit more hands-on. Nothing that requires fine control or knowledge of enchantment theory." I listed simply, "But still tasks that require mana being spent on them."
Glühen nodded, his thick fingers drumming once on the table.
"Could use that at the forges," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "Smiths are smiths. Most of us don't have mana to spare, so when it comes to magical ore equipment, often enough we have some orders sit on us for a while just because apprentices have no mana to spare." He looked at Zaudern. "Having those who can handle the basics while good smiths do actual smithing. Apprentices do a bit of that as is, but having people specialize in this work is actually quite an opportunity."
Zaudern waved a hand dismissively, but I noticed he was listening.
"My first class is fifteen people," I said. "Soon enough, I'll have a second one about as big. If we formalize these arrangements as regular practice, it would benefit everyone involved. This will produce noticeable benefits eventually."
I paused, considering the logistics.
I tried not to think that my plan reminded me of a sweatshop, including the potential thirteen-year-old workers.
This is just practical work, much like the one I did in university, surely…
"Sir Albert," The young man spoke for the first time. Münzen, I recalled. Zaudern's grandson.
He sat straight in his chair, hands flat on the table. His face was carefully composed, but I could see tension in his jaw. He was aware that everyone else at this table knew me, and he only knew of me, his unease was understandable.
"Forgive me, but I have concerns." His voice was measured, each word chosen with care. "If we accept the services your academy offers, we'll be undercutting the apprentice mages who currently handle such work. Some of them have been with the guild for years. They depend on these tasks for income."
This was… a practical concern.
And an obvious one too. But the one none of us talked about just yet.
Zaudern glanced at his grandson with something like approval.
I met Münzen's eyes. He was trying to match my flat expression. Unlike me, he had to work at it.
"If you refuse to do business with the academy, the same displacement will happen in a decade or two, regardless," I replied. "I'm not asking you to give students technical work. Only the most basic, most mana-intensive tasks. Anything requiring skill or nuance remains with your actual enchanters." I elaborated.
Münzen inclined his head slightly. He didn't agree, but he acknowledged the point.
"Lad's got a head for expanding the guild's dealings," Glühen said. There was no mockery in it. "Good. Someone at this table should."
Zaudern looked as if he didn't hear the pointed remark. I was confident I saw a glint of amusement in his eyes nonetheless.
I looked across the three of them.
"I understand that what I offer may seem unorthodox. But there will be many more mages in this valley soon. For now, they are learning. Many aren't sure what sort of mages they will become." I let that settle. "But they will become mages. That's a reality guilds and craftsmen will have to deal with, whether through cooperation with me or not."
Zaudern set down his fork with a small clink.
"You make it sound inevitable," he said. "As if we have no choice in the matter."
"You have a choice in regards to how you handle it," I said. "But the outcome will be the same either way. I am simply offering you the chance to benefit from it rather than be disrupted by it." I shared my honest thoughts.
Glühen leaned back, folding his arms. The chair creaked under his weight.
"I can see your point," the dwarf said. "Doesn't matter if we like it. People need more magic, always had. Enchanted tools, golems, combat mages, all of that. Demand was always sky high, more than anyone could provide. Supply for the specialists could never keep up." He shrugged. "If Albert's academy starts producing mages, someone will put them to work. Might as well be us."
"Everyone finding a use for magic doesn't mean it is to be handed freely," Münzen said. "There are reasons the craft has been guarded."
"The art was never guarded, not since Flamme," I disagreed simply. "Some secrets were hoarded. By enchanter guilds, by kingdoms as their war secrets, by bitter men before our time, but those secrets are droplets in the sea. The biggest reason there are so few mages is that no one saw the need to organize institutions to teach them, not outside of the Empire or the City of Magic. Partially, it is about maintaining profitable scarcity, but for the most part, it's simply because raising a qualified mage is a time investment that rarely can monetarily pay off."
Which was a simple truth. The institution I was trying to build wasn't unprecedented because no one wanted more mages, rather, it was almost unprecedented because rarely did someone bother doing such a thing.
Irem did, and it grew into one of the greatest Kingdoms of its time. Empire of old did, and it conquered almost the entire world. Though, both Irem and Empire having academies was more of a symbol of wealth, rather than the proprietor of it.
Münzen's composure flickered for just a moment. He hadn't expected me to say it so plainly.
Zaudern rubbed his face with one hand.
"What do you actually want, Albert?" he asked. "You aren't doing this for charity, are you?"
I did in a sense, but this was a deliberate open-ended question and my cue to return back to the previous discussion.
My social skills were developed enough to understand that much.
Tapping my nail against the wooden table, I spoke up.
"Practical experience for my students. Exposure to real enchantment work, so they can see what it is like, and maybe some of them would be interested in pursuing it." I paused. "And a continued relationship with the guild as the academy grows. I have no interest in competing with you." I looked Zaudern into the eyes, "But we operate on different timescales. Unless this catastrophically fails, which it shouldn't, we will be direct competitors unless we work together from the start. If not in a decade, then in five decades." I could foresee this much, at least.
The room was quiet. One of the butlers shifted near the door.
Glühen broke the silence by pushing his chair back with a scrape.
"I'll take three of them," he said. "A month or two, see what they can do. If they're useless, I send them back." He looked at me. "Fair?"
I nodded. "Fair."
Zaudern looked at his old friend, then at his grandson. Münzen gave a small nod, almost imperceptible.
The old man sighed.
"Fine," he said. The word came out heavy. "A trial. Bring some of them to the workshop next week. I'll assess them myself before agreeing to anything more." He narrowed his eyes, "This doesn't mean I am agreeing to the deeper partnerships you proposed before. I will not spend my time teaching classes to a bunch of ingrates." He said, shaking his skeletal fist in the air for a second.
"That's acceptable," I said simply.
I decided against mentioning that, as far as I understood, soon enough both the clan forges of Glühen and Zaudern's Enchantress shop (and the attached enchaters guild) will profit greatly once the academy will be functioning. Chances are, they will be sending their own descendents and relatives to study there, provided nothing will go wrong.
They can whine and act difficult all they want, the fact that both of those rather influential men heard me out was already enough for me.
Even if I did find it ironic that the biggest reason for their wealth and success was that ungodly amount of money Schattenbrand has given them.
Lisch was absolutely right.
Working in a society to carve a piece out for yourself was just so tiresome.
***
Adventurers are a phenomenon that greatly confounded me at first.
In the original story of Frieren, they didn't look out of place. The manga existed as a parody, or perhaps a deconstruction, of typical Japanese RPGs. Adventurers were simply part of the genre.
But in real life, with kingdoms governed by real politics and ruled by real people, they looked terribly strange. They were functionally a superpowered paramilitary organization operating within feudal kingdoms. As a person who studied actual medieval societies, their existence bothered me greatly, and I wished to make sense of them for my own peace of mind.
Which I did.
When looking closer, their existence did make some sense.
Fundamentally, adventurers were monster hunters. You could call the Adventurers' Guild a "Monster Hunters' Guild" and you wouldn't be far off. Well-trained, receiving commissions from local nobles, traders, and people of influence, adventurers took payment per job.
Usually, it was monster extermination, or a task that would require monster extermination, or an exploration mission that would inevitably end with monster extermination along the way.
If a job involved monsters, cities called on adventurers.
Villages simply had hunters for that. And the jobs that hunters couldn't handle, the exceptionally difficult ones, led to adventurers being hired instead.
But the actual responsibilities of adventurers were only part of the explanation. There was another fundamental reality of this world involved.
People here were not equal.
To be fair, they weren't equal on Earth either. But on Earth, the divide wasn't as great. The difference between an average, able-bodied man and an athlete of the same sex was perhaps a fifty to eighty percent increase in performance.
Here, the difference could easily be four hundred to five hundred percent between an average city dweller and a trained warrior on the weaker side.
Those numbers may be arbitrary without going into specifics, but the point stands. Even among humans, the gaps were vast. Some were capable of jumping three stories high. Others were simply normal people.
Adventurers tended to be the former rather than the latter, because hunting monsters demanded that much.
This was the true reason for the existence of the Adventurer's Guilds. Monsters were an ever-present and constant issue everywhere, in every region of every land. You needed people equipped, trained, and ready to handle them. Otherwise, villages got massacred, and cities started to starve.
Sure, some regions in the North just had their version of adventurers working directly under magistrates, but that's because things are generally much more dire up North.
Here? The most efficient way was to let Monster Hunters operate as approved and respectable mercenaries.
Adventurers hated being compared to normal mercenaries, however.
All of that I knew full well and kept in mind even now. Especially now.
The guild hall in Sturmkamm was built from the same stone as most of the city's older structures. Heavy timber beams crossed the ceiling, darkened by decades of hearth smoke. The main room was large enough to hold perhaps sixty people if they stood, fewer if they sat.
Today, they sat. Benches had been dragged from the walls and arranged in rough rows facing the raised platform where job postings were usually announced. The board itself had been cleared for the occasion, leaving bare cork behind me.
I counted thirty-two adventurers in attendance. Quite a few valley guards, too, including Hanseln, who rarely missed a lecture.
I grew to recognize some new faces of regulars.
My lectures didn't provoke a small crowd gathering anymore; this was routine, something I did once a week. But many still attended.
The smell of the place hadn't changed. Old wood, lamp oil, sweat.
Currently, I am done with today's lecture on how to fight the most common dungeon-infesting monsters, and I was answering questions.
"...you're thinking of the hero stories where a reflection saves the day," I nodded, finally realizing what the man asked. "I can see why the idea seems appealing. Unfortunately, it doesn't work."
The adventurer who had asked, a younger man with new leather armor, looked a bit sheepish.
"The petrifying gaze isn't light," I explained, folding my arms. "It's a mana-based curse that the Basilisk projects through its eyes. Think of it not as rays of light that shine from its eyes, but as high-pressure currents of water. Whatever it splatters across turns to stone. Whether you're looking at the creature directly, through a reflection, or even if you are not looking at it at all, the result will be the same."
I could see a few of the veterans nodding. They had likely heard this before or figured it out themselves. The younger ones looked less certain.
"The good news is that priests can reverse the petrification, provided your body isn't shattered while you're stone and provided you get to a priest quickly enough," I added, allowing myself to give a younger adventurer a reassuring smile. "The bad news is that the Basilisk is usually still there when your party is trying to drag your statue to safety. That is why I would recommend not getting petrified in the first place."
There were a few chuckles across the audience.
A man near the front spoke up as he scratched his scarred, bald head.
"So what do you actually do?" he asked simply. "If you are out to hunt those, I mean."
"First of all, as I already told the young man, I recommend extreme caution. Basilisks aren't quite dragons, but still the type of monster I wouldn't recommend casually hunting, unless it's a juvenile," I told the man seriously, and just as seriously, he nodded back, "The Basilisk I faced was a rather ancient creature. Most of the weaknesses it usually had were mitigated. Essentially, I was able to win because I could create more magical shields than he could petrify. I doubt anyone here can do the same," I told sincerely, glancing around, "So if you know that the monster is old, I would recommend not getting involved, if possible. Other than that…"
I paused for a moment, considering the question seriously.
"You bring a mage or a priest who can sense mana," I said simply. "The gaze requires the Basilisk to gather and project a significant amount of energy. Someone trained in sensing mana can feel when it's about to fire. They warn the party, and you jump into cover. Or attack it, while its scales have less protection behind them." I shook my head, "But this is what I am saying, the creature I faced had no such weaknesses. When it comes to monsters, age is strictly beneficial and tends to correct the weaknesses their juveniles have." I nodded to myself, this was a good thought: "This is actually true for every single species of monsters I can think of, including demons."
I glanced across the room.
"But returning to the hypothetical Basilisk hunt, if you don't have someone who can sense mana, I recommend that you not hunt Basilisks. Not unless you are willing to gamble with your life." I explained sincerely. "I suppose you can overrun it with numbers, but…"
I recalled the Basilisk I faced with Lisch swatting away dozens of undead…
"...it's not a strategy I would recommend." I shrugged simply, "This isn't much of a secret, but for many monsters, there is no perfect strategy that will allow just anyone to overcome it." I smiled without much amusement. "A good example is dragons. Dragons have amazing magic resistance; the absolute majority of mages and priests won't be able to deal any damage to one, so it should be taken down by a sufficiently powerful warrior with no magical support. That is a dragon's weakness." I allowed myself a small smile to show that I knew precisely what I was saying, "Obviously, out of everyone gathered here, only a few of you would have a chance to win such a fight, despite actively exploiting a 'weakness' of a dragon."
This was another thing. Monsters had strengths and weaknesses in this world, yes, but some creatures were just so strong that making use of their weaknesses was practically impossible for most. Even for career adventurers.
After all, while they were no normal civilians or men-at-arms, they were also no Hero Party.
I was probably the strongest thing in those mountains. It was odd to think about.
"Sir Albert," I turned towards Hanseln, who politely called out to me. He was one of those who actively asked questions, so there was no surprise there.
His brows were furrowed as he stared ahead, as if past me, clearly deep in thought.
"You said that in those lectures you would prioritize speaking about monsters we are likely to encounter and the strategies that may help," He started carefully, clearly choosing his words, "I am curious why you've never spoken in depth on the subject of demons. Is there a lecture planned about them?"
Hanseln's question seemed to prompt some enthusiasm around the guild.
I studied the captain for a moment.
"To be honest, no, I wasn't planning to give a lecture on them," I explained quietly, "It is because a lecture would be pointless."
That seemed to prompt more enthusiasm from the seated adventurers, and some murmurs broke around.
I sighed, but elaborated.
"Demons aren't as easy to categorize. There can't be a general strategy against them, because just like humans, they can be mages or warriors, or even something like hunters," I explained, shaking my head. "They are also sapient; they can reason, think, and use logic. Which means the method to deal with a demon depends, at large, on the demon you face. If some amongst those gathered here faced demons, they know what I speak of."
Surprisingly, it was one of the valley guards who came with Hanseln who nodded.
"Sapient?" Someone asked, when I turned, I saw that the one who spoke up was the adventurer priest, "Wouldn't that be a bit of a stretch? They use words, yes, but merely to deceive humans, don't they?"
I studied the man for a moment, considering how to answer that.
"In a way," I settled on an answer that wouldn't be a lie, "However, there is a lot of nuance."
I gestured, and my mana shaped the illusion of an average-looking human in a mage robe and with horns, projected behind me.
I made sure that the ears of the figure were hidden by its hair.
"Demons learn words without knowing what they mean," I explain simply, "A demon would hear a child in the village he slaughters scream 'mom!', and he will scream that word when attacked himself. If he sees a human stop, he would know it as a magic word that makes humans stop attacking." I explained emotionlessly, "This is how they learn language; it is a tool to get what they want. It works because they are good at mimicry, capable of learning speech from observation alone. Initially, language is merely another way for demons to kill." I shook my head, "But demons generally are not inferior to humans, dwarves, or elves in terms of intelligence. Even if language to them is originally a tool to hunt, they can still learn using it. They can logically understand what a 'mother' is for a human, if they bother to torture someone for information, and even if they won't be able to empathize, they will be able to apply this information." I explained to the priest simply, "Once a demon is old and experienced enough, it may be genuinely difficult to recognize it for a demon."
It was one of the mages in attendance who spoke up.
"The way you are describing them, it's almost as if they are people," He offered.
I nodded at that.
"Good observation. 'Almost as if', specifically, is a correct observation," I nodded to the man, "Demons have personalities and intelligence, I called it sapients. A natural question would be: are they people? Anyone who spoke with a demon in depth and somehow survived will give you the same answer…" I said, glancing across the assembled folk, "...no. They are not."
I took a pause, composing my thoughts.
"Demons lack empathy. They are a species that has evolved to survive alone and to hunt humans using humanity's likeness. The way they think and perceive many matters is so fundamentally different that no one who isn't a demon can ever empathize," I explained simply, my voice grave, as I looked around, making sure my words are heard, "Because demons aren't creatures who ever lived in a society, they don't know what pity is, they don't understand mercy, they can't comprehend regret or shame, or any other sort of feeling that originates from a species that live together."
I explained simply.
"Additionally, demons have an urge to kill and devour humans. There is no reason for them to do so; they can sustain themselves on any food. This is purely instinct; to them, slaughtering humans is as natural as for any of you to squint when glancing at the sun." I explained, and I saw a lot of confusion.
Some on younger faces, some on older.
I paused briefly, not really sure how to proceed. Most of those people never met a demon, aside from me that is, so they had no idea what I was talking about.
Demons in folklore were… well, demonised. Described more like 'evil people who did evil things because they were evil' rather than the beasts they were. Because this was easier to get across to children.
But a characterization like that… inevitably, it also created questions for generations far removed from horrors inflicted by demons.
Namely, 'are they really that bad'.
"Allow me to share with you a real story I personally witnessed," I said, glancing around, "It happened in Northern Lands." I paused, recalling what happened, "There was a cart by the side of the road, half-fallen into a ravine," I explained simply, "By its side stood a merchant, asking to help lift it back up."
I paused.
"The merchant is, of course, a demon in disguise. The real merchant was murdered and devoured. The reason why it stands there, asking for help, is because the demon knows that the traveler would either glance across his belongings looking for a rope, or will jump down and grab one of the boxes in the stuck cart to unload it, rendering themselves unable to defend." I looked around, making sure the story registered, "This is the sort of deception you should expect from an average demon. They merely need to manipulate you in a position where you drop your guard for just an instance, which is where they lash out." I snapped my fingers, "Like this. Yet those plans can be relatively clever if the demon is sufficiently inspired." I smiled without any humor, "Once you are fighting them, the demon will do everything in their power to make you pity them. 'I had to kill them to protect myself', 'I need to eat to survive', 'please, I am doing this for my children', countless phrases like this. All lies, all made just to make you hesitate for a critical moment." I paused before shaking my head, "And with all of that said… demons aren't malicious."
The priest from before seemed outright stupefied.
"Not… not malicious?"
I nodded.
"Indeed. Killing humans to them is instinct. It is also logical, because humans in sufficient quantities can threaten their lives. There is no hatred in their actions, no desire to hurt you sadistically; they kill you because that is what they do, to them, it's nothing personal." I paused, "This is why demons are sapient… but I can't ever call them people. They lack something essential for that."
I noticed Hanseln scribbling in his notebook. He had filled most of the page already.
The room was quiet for a moment. The priest looked like he wanted to say something more but thought better of it.
"So," the scarred veteran from before spoke up, scratching his head again, "what do we do if we actually run into one?"
"Depends. If the mage in your party can sense the demon, and it's not a monster that feels like it would level a city alone, attack it and ignore anything it says," I said simply. "The moment a demon starts talking, and you listen or engage in any way, you are already at a disadvantage."
I closed my eyes for a moment.
"Demons were barely ever seen in those mountains. Most of you will never encounter one. If you do, and you survive, come find me. I would be curious to hear about it." I told them quite honestly.
I stepped down from the platform.
"That's enough for today. Next week, I will go over dungeon ecology. Specifically, why monsters in dungeons behave differently from the same species in other habitats, and how to use that to your advantage."
I headed for the door. Behind me, the murmur of conversation rose, people discussing what they'd heard. I caught a fragment of the priest's voice, something about "Church teachings," before the noise swallowed it.
Hanseln caught up with me outside.
"Sir Albert," he said, falling into step beside me. "That story about the merchant. Did you kill the demon?"
I glanced at him.
"Yes."
What I didn't mention was the weeks of vivisections, experiments, and interrogations it had to endure before I finished it off.
Its pleas for mercy throughout were genuine, but they just meant nothing to me.
He nodded, as if that answered something he'd been wondering about.
I headed away and saw a man with an escort block my path.
Apparently, he was someone who was observing the whole event.
He was a portly man in his fifties, dressed in clothes that were expensive but not ostentatious. Dark wool coat, silver buttons, a chain of office visible at his collar. His face was round and ruddy, with small eyes that seemed to be constantly calculating something.
Behind him stood two guards in the city's livery.
Hanseln stiffened beside me.
"Bürgermeister Ahnungslos," he said, straightening his posture.
So this was the Bürgermeister. I had heard the name mentioned in passing, but never met the man. Mostly because the academy was based in Dornpass Valley, away from his jurisdiction, so to say.
"Captain Hanseln," the Bürgermeister nodded, his eyes barely leaving me. "I had some time between appointments. Heard another lecture by the famous Hermit was underway and thought I'd see what all the fuss was about." He smiled, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "Truly fascinating matter."
I waited for him to continue, just standing there.
"Sir Albert," he said, extending a hand. I shook it without hesitation; I was used to such gestures by now.
His grip was soft. Pudgy.
"I caught the tail end of your talk. The part about demons." He explained with a small, practiced smile.
"I see," I said simply.
"It got me thinking," he continued, clasping his hands behind his back. "You spoke of demons as if they were creatures capable of logic. In your professional opinion, do you think a man could make a deal with a demon? Come to some sort of arrangement?" He asked, seemingly genuinely curious.
I studied his face for a moment. The question seemed to be asked out of fair, if idle interest.
"No," I said. "Not if the man in question wishes to live."
The Bürgermeister raised an eyebrow.
"Demons lie as easily as they breathe," I elaborated. "There is nothing beneficial a human can offer a demon in the long term that the demon couldn't simply take by force once the human's guard is down, at least as far as the demon would be aware. Any deal would at best just delay the issue." I shook my head, "The instincts to kill that I mentioned aren't something they can merely forget out of convenience… else we would've had some living among us."
Ahnungslos nodded slowly, as if I had confirmed something he already suspected.
"Well, that seems fair enough," he said. "I appreciate that you took your time to answer my, no doubt, annoying question!" He said with some humor, as he glanced around at the street, at the people passing by.
"That said, sir Albert, I am afraid this isn't purely a social visit. I wonder if we might continue this conversation somewhere more private. I have a few matters I'd like to discuss with you." He turned towards the guild hall. "I'm sure the guild master wouldn't mind lending us a room upstairs for a short while."
I considered refusing. I had work waiting for me at the academy.
But the man was the Bürgermeister. Antagonizing him wouldn't be a good idea; besides, whatever he was to discuss might be of some interest to me, judging by his jolly attitude.
"Very well," I said.
Ahnungslos smiled and turned to Hanseln.
"Captain, thank you for your company. I'm sure you have duties to attend to."
It wasn't a question.
Hanseln glanced at me. I gave him a small nod.
"Of course, Bürgermeister," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "Sir Albert, I'll see you next week."
He departed, though I noticed he walked slowly, as if hoping to overhear something.
Ahnungslos gestured toward the guild hall, and I followed him inside.
It took some time for everything to be arranged, about ten minutes or so.
The room upstairs was small and sparsely furnished. A table, four chairs, and a window overlooking the street. The Bürgermeister dismissed his guards to wait outside and settled into one of the chairs with a small grunt.
"Please, sit," he said, waving at the chair across from him.
I sat.
For a moment, he simply looked at me, that calculating expression still on his face.
"I'll be direct with you, Sir Albert," he said, leaning forward. "I'm a busy man, and I suspect you are too. So let's not waste each other's time with pleasantries."
A sudden sense of appreciation ignited within me.
"Your academy," he continued, settling back into his chair. "It's an interesting venture. Very interesting. I've heard that Zaudern's guild has already entered into some arrangements with you. And many dwarven smith clans as well."
I nodded. That wasn't a secret.
"I'd like to support it," he said simply. "Financially."
I waited.
Ahnungslos studied my face for a moment, then chuckled. The sound was surprisingly warm.
"You're waiting for the catch," he observed. "I would too, in your position."
He shifted in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight.
"Your academy will never turn a profit, Sir Albert. We both know this. Teaching magic to peasants and former miners isn't a money-making venture." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But I've been Bürgermeister of this city for eighteen years now. Long enough to understand that not everything valuable shows up on a ledger."
I remained silent, letting him continue.
"Right now, if a merchant in Sturmkamm needs enchantment work, he goes to Zaudern's guild. There's a waiting list months long. If a farmer needs pest removal that requires magic, he hires an adventurer, and adventurers are expensive." He tapped a finger on the table. "But in five years? Ten? Your academy will have produced dozens of trained mages. They'll need work. They'll settle here. They'll offer services that people actually need."
He leaned back.
"More mages means more services. More services means more trade. More trade means Sturmkamm grows." He shrugged, a surprisingly casual gesture for a man of his station. "I won't be around forever. But the city will be. I'd like it to be better than when I found it."
He reached into his coat and produced a folded piece of paper, sliding it across the table.
"This is what I'm prepared to offer."
I unfolded it and read the figures.
It was a substantial sum. Enough to complete the construction twice over, with funds left for equipment, materials, and salaries.
I looked up at him.
"I'll accept," I said.
Ahnungslos blinked.
"Just like that?" He seemed genuinely surprised. "No negotiations? No conditions of your own?"
"The offer is fair," I said simply. "I see no reason to complicate it."
He stared at me for a long moment, then laughed. It was a genuine sound, without the politician's polish I had heard earlier.
"They told me you were strange," he said, rising from his chair. "I'm starting to see what they meant."
He extended his hand. I shook it. His grip was firmer this time.
"I'll have the formal documents sent to you within the week," he said. "My clerks will handle the details."
"That's acceptable," I said.
Ahnungslos collected his coat and moved toward the door. He paused with his hand on the frame.
"For what it's worth, Sir Albert," he said, glancing back, "I hope you succeed. Genuinely."
He left before I could respond.
I sat alone in the small room for a while, looking at the paper in my hands.
It was a good offer. Perhaps too good. In my experience, people rarely gave something for nothing.
But then again, Ahnungslos wasn't giving something for nothing. He was buying the future prosperity of his city. The fact that he wouldn't live to see most of it didn't seem to bother him.
I folded the paper and tucked it into my robe.
It was an attitude I could respect, even if I didn't fully understand it.
I had an academy to return to.
***
The following is from a ledger labeled 'Journal of the Headmaster'.
This document is written and composed by me, Albert, the first headmaster of DAMN.
For the record, I despise how this acronym stuck amongst the students and surrounding city dwellers.
I write this particular entry at the end of the first year of the Academy's operation, though many entries were made earlier. Allow me to explain the main purpose of this academy, as well as my expectations for its future.
The Dornpass Academy of Mages in Nascency was created to provide as many people as possible with the opportunity to receive education in magic. The Academy was started by me alone, with funds I acquired over the years. I expected it to run at a loss. By the time you become headmaster, that might have already changed. If it did not, I should have left enough coin in the coffers for it to keep running for a while.
Right now, the academy is mostly operated by me. My golems clean the dormitories and classrooms. I teach most of the classes, bar two, for which Bürgermeister Ahnungslos helped me find retired adventurers willing to serve as instructors. There is some other hired staff, but most of the work is done by me alone.
My goal is for the Academy to run itself without my involvement. I predict this to be possible in ten to twenty years, once enough students graduate and enough of them become interested in positions as professors themselves.
By the time anyone else becomes a headmaster, this goal will be reached by default. Yet it is important to mention that this Academy was always created with certain expectations.
Eventually, The Dornpass Academy of Mages in Nascency should turn into a university town. This is a term that is difficult to explain, but essentially, a town will form around the main Academy to support it in terms of infrastructure.
If you succeed me as headmaster, I hope this already happened.
Now, for the main reason of this introduction. There are three things that the Academy was created for, and that it should live by, else I will return to course-correct it.
First of all, all students who are willing and able should be taught. More mages means faster progress of magic as a whole, which is the greatest benefit of such an institution existing. Tuition fees shouldn't be involved unless the Academy cannot survive without them. If the Academy can't survive without tuition, maybe another headmaster should be considered.
Second, the Dornpass Academy of Mages in Nascency should remain independent. Obviously, it is to pay taxes and not refuse the King, but it must not serve a Lord as a private army or personal institution, nor hoard knowledge, as it defeats the purpose for which it was created.
Third, while The Dornpass Academy of Mages in Nascency primary function is to teach, its secondary function is to produce and sponsor research. Professors and students are allowed to be sponsored for personal projects and research, as long as it advances magic as a whole and does not cross ethical boundaries. Which, I hope to this day reflects in the bureaucratic core of the Academy, but which I also felt essential to point out separately.
Now, with all of that out of the way, allow me to list the contingency functions and artifacts I've left for the defence of the Academy, as well as the instructions on how to access them. I will update this list up until the moment I leave the office…
----
***
Part of a letter addressed to 'A'.
----
…Surely you jest, contact with local guilds, in the second year of your academy's existence?
This is the last thing I would've expected of you! Yet, I am somewhat not surprised. I, myself, am doing something similar despite this new disposition of my body.
You remember I told you of the fishing villages nearby, defenceless and practically feral, and that it bothered me leaving them as they were?
Well, in my new body, I have the energy to spare to offer them some protection. Despite my intimidating visage and craft, they just might have the blood or Irem run through them.
For now, I can only offer them to relocate closer to safety. I hope some will agree.
Now, you say you were successful at creating this Fire Spirit of yours? What a coincidence! I myself have some success; I managed to heal! With the fleshcraft!
A, we, both of us, we are treading on the domain of the Goddess now!
I suppose both of us need to take care to stay pious and humble, and not crown ourselves Kings.
It does have a ring to it, does it not? L, King of the Dead, and A, King of Spirits?
…knowing you, you were already prepared to write a berating poem back to me, weren't you? Don't worry, I jest, I jest.
This is because I know you well.
No, I do not have clairvoyance.
Now, to answer your question, it certainly is odd to be able to see your own ribcage, but due to the fleshcraft, I feel things touching it as I did when my skin was touched, so no, I do, in fact, still very much enjoy the baths you restored. They warm my bones quite pleasantly...
-----
Author Note: Here we go, a chapter of a sensible size. Helps me be functional, and I think the next chapter should come out a bit sooner.
This arc is slowly getting built properly.
Protos is only alive through nepotism.
As always, one more chapter on Patreon, check at your own risk.