Even he was subject to this kind of wall of classism, considering that his seatmate is a girl he rarely spoke to on the occasions he was given. Though he was good friends with a few kids in class, they were not as close to him.

At least, Mitt thinks he’s not. He feels someone tickling his left ear, and he moved his head slightly to see who it was but found his ears touching a tiny, folded paper. The shape of the fold formed what looked like a wobbly snake, with a makeshift tongue torn from a part of the paper or somewhere else.

Cocking his brow up in wonder, he took the folded paper, looking around to see who was brave enough to make folded paper toys and pass them around the class. He was hesitant to be bothered by it but found himself relaxing when he noticed that near the middle area of the seating, a boy with slightly shorter brown hair whose face was looking in front but one of his fingers was pointing at him.

This boy stayed still for most of the lesson, albeit dull and repetitive, but the division of his attention brings up a bit of a small, distracted smile on Mitt’s face. The boy’s name is Hulari ng Cucul, a close relative of Lord Verbasi from one of his illegitimate siblings. There is no ill will within their family because not everyone outside of the main household could sustain the magic-wielding legacy Verbasi held.

Of course, how Mitt understood his mentor’s private life, they are a family handling a small plot of land near the Saturni provinces. This solidifies the connection of the Cuculs being a member of the Saturnis by approximate relation to politics.

But this position and perk weren’t due to their longstanding lineage, it was all a gift of the Saturnis to Lord Verbasi as the previous Prime Magician’s first student. Which came off as something Mitt was curious about because he could tell that he was strong and important, but his mentor was not the Prime Magician. His mother was.

There is no joking about the difference in magic his mother and his mentor have between each other to the point he wondered if someday he could be the same as them. Strong and calm, knowledgeable to a point they didn’t need to read a book and master casting a spell.

At least, Hulari who now was looking at him didn’t need to bother about such things though he was waving his finger at Mitt towards the direction of the paper Mitt held in his hand gingerly. He rolled his eyes and opened the letter, what was written:

“Our sword clashing is tarnished by the blemish of your magic. Don’t retire so early as if a chicken after lessons. Fight me like a man on the battlefield ‘Prime Magician,’ I request a rematch of our last practice!”

Then at the very bottom, was a postscript.

“Have you asked Lady Saturni if you will be coming to vacation back in the Saturni residence or with us? Uncle and the ladies are excited to have you back in our house. Mother can’t wait to see you again, as if she doesn’t think I’m a better son than you are.

“Also, I think you did cheat. I know both of us are wimpy kids who cannot hold a sword, but I cannot give up.”

Mitt heaved a sigh, enjoying this little quip and, also, quite frustrated at the reminder of the coming vacation that he knew won’t happen anytime. Knowing the coming weeks after will be the Ocular; his nervous bones could not comprehend the excitement he has held for a long time.

Reserved just for this moment of his life, he trained his mind after expecting for so long that he will be joining his mother hand in hand, instead of protecting afar. That he would stand on the same platform of the airship they will be riding to Slitark and help her cut the unwanted Spires on their sun.

If he was correct in his assumptions, he will be there to see how the Prime Magicians do their work and it is such an honor he’s been drilled since his childhood that he would rather miss sleep than not take his magic lessons seriously, again. He was practicing his skills in swordsmanship as a form of exercise to keep his young body built and healthy, but he found himself an unwanted rival in the form of his closest comrade, Hulari.

Hulari was his first friend after spending time in the Verbasi residence. The way he remembered their first encounter, it was like wanting to bite off a nasty plant’s head because of how much competitive Hulari was in their first meeting.

Not that small Hulari was mean, to begin with, but he was precautious, not enough to be antisocial but quite unfriendly. His eyes looked uninterested and when Mitt was the one who gave the effort to approach him because he wanted to be on good terms with his mentor’s family, all he did was look at him angrily.

At first, Mitt didn’t know what to do with Hulari to a point that he was the first person he’s been annoyed with, constantly. It lasted for months before they just got used to each, other’s company.

Tapping his fingers on the paper, he looked up at Hulari who continued to look in front before pulling out his pencil and writing on the paper. He erased it several times before finally sending the paperback by way of magic, folding it small enough and flicking it with controlled strength to shoot exactly in Hulari’s ear. Not touch the ear and land down on the desk, or graze it, exactly fit onto the space on the ear and lodge itself with mighty conviction.

This made Hulari jump from his seat in surprise, clutching the side of his face, exactly catching the ear intruder. Their classroom could be called a stadium with four levels going down, all rows could occupy fifteen to twenty students with four dividing paths that separate them into at least five columns.

The space is occupied enough to let students sit as close or far from each other, but by rule, they’re not allowed to sit close so they make sure to space themselves one person apart. The entire purpose of this setup is due to all the rooms in the building staged like a seminar or meeting room, once used by the majority of magicians training for their masters.

Nowadays the magicians are well scattered and more normal citizens with lesser magic have occupied the school. By grace giving leeway to the other students, the Eucalytera was gifted to those who study the common and noble lifestyle.

Hulari’s actions alerted some of the students beside him enough to look at him with a mix of annoyance and a similar sense of surprise, rather wakefulness. The teacher didn’t even budge from his interference though it wasn’t enough noise to bother anyone in its entirety, you could easily tell at the zoned-out silence, or rather the sleepiness around that his sudden movement could easily jostle anyone.

Smirking, wide-eyed, and slightly stopping himself from laughing, Mitt looked around to see that most of his classmates awoke, faces a bit brighter. The teacher, meanwhile, stopped to look around mid-stating the important dates of the fifth council conclave about the first time they propose unilateral education for the masses.

Sitting Hulari’s self, upright, he frowned at Mitt but smirked without any malice or hard feelings. Though the moment he opened the letter and read what was inside, he heaved a sigh and then frowned, deeply, at Mitt. Replying, Mitt to Hulari, by sticking his tongue and swiping his thumb horizontally at his neck.

The frown on Hulari’s face dissolved by sticking his tongue out and both resumed looking in front. At the same time, the teacher said, in a clear voice with a bit of tired lilt.

“Now, who here remembers the string of events that happened before the minor dispute between the towns of Manggahan and Bagoong? Remember, they are old dead towns by now, but their existence gave us a significant fruit born from their desire to contribute by developing it through magic.”

The teacher started calling people at random and each person perked up with anxiety, more of this went on until each person was called to stand and recite as the teacher wasn’t satisfied by their missed context and incorrect answers. Though, of course, some answered correctly, they were still berated as if they were bad students.

This teacher isn’t just a historian but a magician who specializes in greater knowledge of history, one of at least, and has been quite a boring person when it came to telling stories but enjoyed giving trivia. Mitt could say he is off the hook for at least knowing the right answer to the question, even if he could tell he was given an easy one, but he couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable because of this person’s arrogance.

Hulari is the same way, his question was quite easy just by the fact that the person before him was asked something related nothing about the ideology behind the Manggahan-Bagoong town, but rather about a theoretical assumption Hulari was sure has never been tackled.

The farce continued before the bell rang and lessons were over. After which they’re subjected to practicums such as knighthood training, practical physical education or for the ladies, etiquette, and mannerisms. By their age in fifth grade, around twelve to thirteen, it’s a surprise they’re drilled in this Academy about such things. Sounding quite superfluous compared to the curriculum Mitt saw for the commoners.

They’re barraged with several agricultural and social work that are tedious to do without the help of everyday magic but held together and given a level of ease by the existence of mechanical items powered by shards. These students don’t have any specific age, though he isn’t sure of it, he’s quite certain for one that there was no money given freely to these common students in the building of Eucalytera.

Investments for hard-working citizens is the idea and Mitt could only imagine through his young mind how far this type of method would go if selected people are the only ones viable when there are dozens of families on the outskirts. He realized it was patronizing to think like this if he doesn’t have anything to promptly contribute to their line of work, as much as he could be reminded of his duties, he couldn’t escape comparing other people’s lives to what he experiences if he ever encounters them.

Standing on the side as he fixed his brown leather gloves, he pulled a short sword for fifth graders and started warming up on the training ground. Dismissing the group of people in brown dusty aprons carrying buckets of water and coal, heading towards the Smithery.

The weaponry hall is a few blocks away from the training ground, a convenience meant to have an instant response when a weapon on the grounds needs immediate replacement during intense training. Though not something that should be included in the curriculum of the Academy, they were proposed as mandatory due to the nature of the Engineering department requiring metal works.

Meaning, any student of the Smithery is not simply working on weapons but the craft and creativity funded by the nobility to create whatever magicians need or want. The core goal is to believe that they can control the Alchemic side of magic that infuses several elements, including the crafting of vessels and appropriate physical containers that could enhance the magic.

Shards are sometimes a key component to their work and something they often infuse in metals, like the shields and swords that Mitt and other students are currently wielding. Fifth graders like him are an exception to the rules of non-bladed combat training, but he was given a ranking enough because of his skills that he got to exhibit the result of his training in the Saturni family at an early age.

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