It was twenty to ten when I arrived at the academy, fending off curious stares. I visited my office first. The suitcase was safe, and I was relieved. I left it there, locked the door, and walked the corridors of the last floor. I was searching for the Conference Room when I noticed Mr Quincy around the corner. He seemed to be going somewhere. I called out to him. ‘Mr Quincy.’ The man turned to me. ‘What a nice morning. I thought I wouldn’t see any familiar faces today.’
Mr Quincy smiled and said, ‘Why not? I am here for you, Mr Dew.’ That was not what I had expected to hear. ‘I will be present at today’s meeting.’
‘Ah,’ I exclaimed. ‘I see. You are on the board, Mr Quincy?’ I had heard they did not appreciate me.
He shook his head. ‘Board members will be there, of course, but they will have no say in today’s decisions. They too belong to different departments, you see. Their positions may sway their opinions.’ He led me towards the Conference Room. ‘They will simply listen, as they should, while the rest of us are in talks. Today may very well be a long one, Mr Dew. I hope you have come prepared.’
I have only one bladder, unfortunately. ‘I have.’ Have I?
‘Good,’ he said, opening the door. We weren’t late. I knew that. It was five to ten. We were on time. We definitely weren't late. But, why are they already here? You are supposed to be the busy ones. The room was filled with people. It wasn’t a very large or grand room. The walls had maroon tapestry and a few cupboards, and other than the great table in the middle and chairs surrounding it, there was not much to see. I, alongside Mr Quincy, took our seats at one end sheepishly. I looked around finding some faces I had met on Orientation Day. All of them had a composed and relaxed tone to them. They were solemn yet calm. Maturity, I thought it. Something I lack. While I observed them, they nodded to me, keeping silent.
The clock on the wall struck ten, and the door opened once again to make way for two men. The Dean…and him. The black-haired man and the Dean entered the room, and all stood up for him. Naturally, I followed. The old man walked towards his seat at the other end, and while urging us to sit, settled himself. ‘How does the day treat you?’ asked the good-natured man. Some replied with Fine, while some stayed silent. I simply gave a grin that I hoped did not seem impish. ‘As you all know,’ the man continued, ‘we are gathered here today to discuss and settle the ongoing argument about where shall Mr Dew’s subject — Arcane Knowledge — be placed in the faculty system. This will be the last meeting regarding this issue. We will not continue this matter forward if a verdict has not been reached by the end of today. We have wasted far too much time as it is. We have other things of importance that require attention.’ He looked around the room. There must have been around twenty people, and none seemed to interject. Of course, I would not either if I were them. He paid us. Now, I desperately wished to see the madman who still would. ‘Mr Dew will be present today. He will have a say in matters, asked or not. Let us be civil. Raise your arms before speaking. With that said, let us begin.’
Soon, arms were raised and arguments followed. As Mr Quincy had said, there were a number of people who fancied me. There were representatives of each department. Science seemed to be the most expansive. Arts was a fashionable and creative bunch. History looked very interested in digging and finding the roots of Magic. Martial Studies were sharp and aggressive. Philosophy was— They have a department for themselves? They had a different and perplexing internal construction compared to the rest of the departments. Philosophical Venture, The House of Thought, Theology, The Teachings of Old, Mythology — such were their subjects. I could understand Mythology and Theology, but the rest were simply beyond my understanding. How could a venture and a house be called a subject? These courses were different. The House of Thought was a place to share and debate ideologies and beliefs. It did not have a test or a goal. It was a place that was neutral to all until debates begin. These people want me? They had a calm air, but I thought better of joining them. I will be exhausted by the end of the day, I told myself.
The arguments continued until one o’clock when we left for lunch. Mr Quincy accompanied me as we walked across the winding paths that led to the canteen. I had expected to find a mess hall with very little care, but the place was completely different to my imagination. It had proper carpets like any other place in the buildings on the academy grounds. The tables were clean and well-polished. The students and the staff had separate canteens but they weren’t disparate.
I was served fish in red sauce, while Mr Quincy ordered stake. I noticed that it was medium rare. I knew some things, you know? Soon, subtle sounds of silverware and dishes filled the hall, and Mr Quincy and I began our conversation. ‘It was taxing, was it not, Mr Dew?’ He asked me, and I agreed. It was a rather difficult thing to sit through if you had little to add. ‘History will not have you; I am sure.’ That seemed to be true. Others had better claim over me. ‘Philosophy seems too far of a stretch. By their standards, everything must belong to them. I am sure there is some philosophy that reads so.’ He laughed.
‘Something along the line of What is the nature of all things if not the seeking of truth?’ I said, chuckling along.
‘Yes, yes,’ Mr Quincy agreed, cutting into his stake while flashing his shiny teeth. ‘I doubt they will have you either. It is between Science, Arts, and Martial Studies then.’ His face fell a little. ‘I hope it isn’t Martial Studies, Mr Dew, and you should too. They only see blood, blade, and war.’ He stared into the void. ‘I know that mages must one day enter the world of war, but I would prefer it if that world is far away.’ I agreed with the man. The world is far too fragile, and magic is far too potent. It will shake the world, surely. ‘Well, I hope you know that there is a difference between carrying a blade and holding it.’ I understood the meaning. But why tell me? I am no warmonger, Mr Quincy. I nodded my head and had my bites. ‘Arsene is not a sane man, Mr Dew,’ he said, looking at a particular table. There sat a man in a tight black uniform and grey hair. He was the head of the Martial Studies department. He looked strict and disciplined, militaristic. Mr Arsene Neumic. Looking at him, I thought the man was how Mr Quincy described him — not sane. His eyes showed what he hid from the world — Madness. The kind of person that WANTS war.
Soon, our lunch ended, and we dragged ourselves back to the Conference Room. I yawned slightly, rubbed my eyes, and sat there like a toddler after a meal. I was sleepy and bored.
The talks continued, and at the end of the day, as the sky turned a bright red, no conclusion had been reached. The Dean sighed, and so did the rest of us. ‘Can none of you back down?’ asked Dean in a defeated voice. No one volunteered. They did not have goodness in their hearts; greed ran wild. I have a class tomorrow. Please, let me go, I pleaded in my heart. But neither the gods nor the Dean answered my prayers. The man asked me, ‘Tell us, Mr Dew, what do you suppose we shall do?’ All eyes turned to me.
And I sat there, stunned. You throw this on me? I was surprised by the sudden betrayal. What am I supposed to do? I took a breath, calmed myself, and pondered for a while.
I did not know what to answer, so I simply told them what I knew. ‘Arcane Knowledge has more than one way of showing itself,’ I said for the first time. ‘Sometimes it is an art as I showed on the Orientation Day and as the Art department claims.’ They looked glad to hear that. ‘It works on laws that we yet do not comprehend, as the science departments claim.’ They did not show it but they, too, were glad, albeit a little suspicious. ‘And, Magic can be destructive. It can be used that way, as Martial Studies claim.’ Mr Neumic narrowed his eyes. ‘Sometimes we use the unknown while sometimes we utilise laws that we have learned from physics. I can cast magic on plants, so one may say that I know a little about botany. But the truth is that I must know about it if I wish to work with it.’ Mr Quincy seemed impressed. I was sure he would string me along for the sake of lengthy botanical conversations. ‘I would like to say with certainty that I know where Arcane Knowledge should be placed, but it has too many implications and practicalities for it to not belong to any of these.’ I was honest, as honest as I could be. It was not a simple act of shirking off my responsibilities, for I truly felt this way. ‘I do not think that Arcane knowledge does not belong in any of these departments. So, I apologise, for I do not have an answer.’
***
It was half past nine when Mr Quincy and I left for the dormitories. The whole way we were silent. I was in thought, and he too seemed to have much in his head.
The tram at night was a joy to ride. It was dark and quiet. The lampposts were lit, and very few walked the streets. The day after was the first day of the academy. I am sure the students understand its importance. Be punctual and diligent, I reminded myself as the pleasant and cool air caressed me. I laid my head on the sill of the open window, my arms resting underneath my chin. I had much to think about. The past days had been surprising and joyous. I made acquaintances and felt a new air. I took it all in with the freshness of this wind. I liked that quiet sound the tram made. It felt soothing, nearly lulling me to sleep.
Around ten o’clock, we arrived at our destination. Mr Quincy bid me goodbye, and I too left for my house. Walking along the calm canal, in the dark night with the moon yet behind the trees, I passed many houses along with thoughts that appeared evanescent. As I was about to enter my house without thinking much, I noticed the lit pavilion. I could feel its attraction from far away and walked towards it. The closer I came, the better the view seemed. The bright pavilion shone as the white stone scattered the light around the canal, and that clear water too showed me the burning red of those flames.
The group from the morning was there, alongside a few more people. Ms Orchard was the first one to notice me. She welcomed me, while the staff served me. Mr Canary seemed jovial while Mr Bones seemed a little tired and tanned. ‘Good day?’ I asked them.
Mr Canary was ecstatic. ‘Oh, very much, Mr Dew,’ he said, laughing constantly. ‘Saw a Blue-eyed Ground-dove. Beautiful thing. Extremely rare.’ He kept elaborating. I listened but did not understand much. ‘What about you, Mr Dew?’ he innocently asked, without noticing the interest around. They were interested to know too.
I did not know how to answer. This was a peculiar situation. How do you even relay such a thing? I did not know. Disappointment would be aplenty. Doubts were sure to arise. ‘We spent an entire day on it, Mr Canary,’ I said to the man, pretending not to notice the stares. ‘But no conclusion was derived.’
‘That is disappointing,’ said the man. He did not seem it, but others did. ‘Let us hope for the next meeting to be more productive.’ He had a smile as he washed his mouth with red wine.
‘Well,’ I murmured awkwardly, ‘there won’t be a next meeting.’ I found those questioning gazes heavy. ‘The Dean said we have wasted too much time on this matter and will allow no more of this.’ I watered my parched throat. It felt great. ‘He said Arcane Knowledge will not enter any department.’ That was truly the worst experience. It was a complex matter, and I was not the most capable person to explain it in fewer words. The stares were, as I had expected, of doubt and ridicule. ‘The Dean had come prepared in case no conclusion was reached. He brought along with him a proposition for an…independent course.’
‘Really?’ asked Ms Oak. The air was heavy, and all seemed to have more food for their thought than their mouth. Ms Orchard was reticent as usual despite being in thought. Ms Lore didn’t care, it seems.
‘So, you won’t be entering any department, Mr Dew?’ asked Mr Canary, and I could hear the whispers of ‘that’s a shame.’
I looked the man in the eye, and with all my solemnity said, ‘Not exactly.’ Here is where it all sort of tangled into an artistically genius mess. ‘I will be working alongside all the departments.’ I kept sweating buckets. ‘As Arcane Knowledge is a new subject with no specific direction, I am supposed to work alongside the rest of the courses. Arcane Knowledge has a wide area of usability and interest, so our cooperation should benefit me and the departments alike. That is how the Dean sees it.’ I kept taking Dean’s name. I did not want to blame him, but if it were either between either him or me, I was definitely going to push all the blame on him. My shamelessness could attest to that. ‘So, I suppose, we will be working together from now on. Please, come ask if you have any need for me,’ I said politely.
I saw some disappointment and doubt, but mostly my last words were sugar to their tongues. Who wouldn’t want to have a handy mage? A flurry of questions flew at me. They were truly ridiculous.
‘Can you call birds with magic?’ Mr Canary asked.
What do I look like? ‘No,’ I replied.
‘Can you strengthen bones to never break?’ asked Mr Bones.
One should not be so literal. ‘No.’ Not that I have tried.
‘Electricity?’
You again? I said, 'No,' remember? ‘I have not done any research regarding this yet.’
And the questions continued into the night as I had dinner. I slept contently that night. And when I woke up, it was the day of my trial — the first day.
It was twenty to ten when I arrived at the academy, fending off curious stares. I visited my office first. The suitcase was safe, and I was relieved. I left it there, locked the door, and walked the corridors of the last floor. I was searching for the Conference Room when I noticed Mr Quincy around the corner. He seemed to be going somewhere. I called out to him. ‘Mr Quincy.’ The man turned to me. ‘What a nice morning. I thought I wouldn’t see any familiar faces today.’
Mr Quincy smiled and said, ‘Why not? I am here for you, Mr Dew.’ That was not what I had expected to hear. ‘I will be present at today’s meeting.’
‘Ah,’ I exclaimed. ‘I see. You are on the board, Mr Quincy?’ I had heard they did not appreciate me.
He shook his head. ‘Board members will be there, of course, but they will have no say in today’s decisions. They too belong to different departments, you see. Their positions may sway their opinions.’ He led me towards the Conference Room. ‘They will simply listen, as they should, while the rest of us are in talks. Today may very well be a long one, Mr Dew. I hope you have come prepared.’
I have only one bladder, unfortunately. ‘I have.’ Have I?
‘Good,’ he said, opening the door. We weren’t late. I knew that. It was five to ten. We were on time. We definitely weren't late. But, why are they already here? You are supposed to be the busy ones. The room was filled with people. It wasn’t a very large or grand room. The walls had maroon tapestry and a few cupboards, and other than the great table in the middle and chairs surrounding it, there was not much to see. I, alongside Mr Quincy, took our seats at one end sheepishly. I looked around finding some faces I had met on Orientation Day. All of them had a composed and relaxed tone to them. They were solemn yet calm. Maturity, I thought it. Something I lack. While I observed them, they nodded to me, keeping silent.
The clock on the wall struck ten, and the door opened once again to make way for two men. The Dean…and him. The black-haired man and the Dean entered the room, and all stood up for him. Naturally, I followed. The old man walked towards his seat at the other end, and while urging us to sit, settled himself. ‘How does the day treat you?’ asked the good-natured man. Some replied with Fine, while some stayed silent. I simply gave a grin that I hoped did not seem impish. ‘As you all know,’ the man continued, ‘we are gathered here today to discuss and settle the ongoing argument about where shall Mr Dew’s subject — Arcane Knowledge — be placed in the faculty system. This will be the last meeting regarding this issue. We will not continue this matter forward if a verdict has not been reached by the end of today. We have wasted far too much time as it is. We have other things of importance that require attention.’ He looked around the room. There must have been around twenty people, and none seemed to interject. Of course, I would not either if I were them. He paid us. Now, I desperately wished to see the madman who still would. ‘Mr Dew will be present today. He will have a say in matters, asked or not. Let us be civil. Raise your arms before speaking. With that said, let us begin.’
Soon, arms were raised and arguments followed. As Mr Quincy had said, there were a number of people who fancied me. There were representatives of each department. Science seemed to be the most expansive. Arts was a fashionable and creative bunch. History looked very interested in digging and finding the roots of Magic. Martial Studies were sharp and aggressive. Philosophy was— They have a department for themselves? They had a different and perplexing internal construction compared to the rest of the departments. Philosophical Venture, The House of Thought, Theology, The Teachings of Old, Mythology — such were their subjects. I could understand Mythology and Theology, but the rest were simply beyond my understanding. How could a venture and a house be called a subject? These courses were different. The House of Thought was a place to share and debate ideologies and beliefs. It did not have a test or a goal. It was a place that was neutral to all until debates begin. These people want me? They had a calm air, but I thought better of joining them. I will be exhausted by the end of the day, I told myself.
The arguments continued until one o’clock when we left for lunch. Mr Quincy accompanied me as we walked across the winding paths that led to the canteen. I had expected to find a mess hall with very little care, but the place was completely different to my imagination. It had proper carpets like any other place in the buildings on the academy grounds. The tables were clean and well-polished. The students and the staff had separate canteens but they weren’t disparate.
I was served fish in red sauce, while Mr Quincy ordered stake. I noticed that it was medium rare. I knew some things, you know? Soon, subtle sounds of silverware and dishes filled the hall, and Mr Quincy and I began our conversation. ‘It was taxing, was it not, Mr Dew?’ He asked me, and I agreed. It was a rather difficult thing to sit through if you had little to add. ‘History will not have you; I am sure.’ That seemed to be true. Others had better claim over me. ‘Philosophy seems too far of a stretch. By their standards, everything must belong to them. I am sure there is some philosophy that reads so.’ He laughed.
‘Something along the line of What is the nature of all things if not the seeking of truth?’ I said, chuckling along.
‘Yes, yes,’ Mr Quincy agreed, cutting into his stake while flashing his shiny teeth. ‘I doubt they will have you either. It is between Science, Arts, and Martial Studies then.’ His face fell a little. ‘I hope it isn’t Martial Studies, Mr Dew, and you should too. They only see blood, blade, and war.’ He stared into the void. ‘I know that mages must one day enter the world of war, but I would prefer it if that world is far away.’ I agreed with the man. The world is far too fragile, and magic is far too potent. It will shake the world, surely. ‘Well, I hope you know that there is a difference between carrying a blade and holding it.’ I understood the meaning. But why tell me? I am no warmonger, Mr Quincy. I nodded my head and had my bites. ‘Arsene is not a sane man, Mr Dew,’ he said, looking at a particular table. There sat a man in a tight black uniform and grey hair. He was the head of the Martial Studies department. He looked strict and disciplined, militaristic. Mr Arsene Neumic. Looking at him, I thought the man was how Mr Quincy described him — not sane. His eyes showed what he hid from the world — Madness. The kind of person that WANTS war.
Soon, our lunch ended, and we dragged ourselves back to the Conference Room. I yawned slightly, rubbed my eyes, and sat there like a toddler after a meal. I was sleepy and bored.
The talks continued, and at the end of the day, as the sky turned a bright red, no conclusion had been reached. The Dean sighed, and so did the rest of us. ‘Can none of you back down?’ asked Dean in a defeated voice. No one volunteered. They did not have goodness in their hearts; greed ran wild. I have a class tomorrow. Please, let me go, I pleaded in my heart. But neither the gods nor the Dean answered my prayers. The man asked me, ‘Tell us, Mr Dew, what do you suppose we shall do?’ All eyes turned to me.
And I sat there, stunned. You throw this on me? I was surprised by the sudden betrayal. What am I supposed to do? I took a breath, calmed myself, and pondered for a while.
I did not know what to answer, so I simply told them what I knew. ‘Arcane Knowledge has more than one way of showing itself,’ I said for the first time. ‘Sometimes it is an art as I showed on the Orientation Day and as the Art department claims.’ They looked glad to hear that. ‘It works on laws that we yet do not comprehend, as the science departments claim.’ They did not show it but they, too, were glad, albeit a little suspicious. ‘And, Magic can be destructive. It can be used that way, as Martial Studies claim.’ Mr Neumic narrowed his eyes. ‘Sometimes we use the unknown while sometimes we utilise laws that we have learned from physics. I can cast magic on plants, so one may say that I know a little about botany. But the truth is that I must know about it if I wish to work with it.’ Mr Quincy seemed impressed. I was sure he would string me along for the sake of lengthy botanical conversations. ‘I would like to say with certainty that I know where Arcane Knowledge should be placed, but it has too many implications and practicalities for it to not belong to any of these.’ I was honest, as honest as I could be. It was not a simple act of shirking off my responsibilities, for I truly felt this way. ‘I do not think that Arcane knowledge does not belong in any of these departments. So, I apologise, for I do not have an answer.’
***
It was half past nine when Mr Quincy and I left for the dormitories. The whole way we were silent. I was in thought, and he too seemed to have much in his head.
The tram at night was a joy to ride. It was dark and quiet. The lampposts were lit, and very few walked the streets. The day after was the first day of the academy. I am sure the students understand its importance. Be punctual and diligent, I reminded myself as the pleasant and cool air caressed me. I laid my head on the sill of the open window, my arms resting underneath my chin. I had much to think about. The past days had been surprising and joyous. I made acquaintances and felt a new air. I took it all in with the freshness of this wind. I liked that quiet sound the tram made. It felt soothing, nearly lulling me to sleep.
Around ten o’clock, we arrived at our destination. Mr Quincy bid me goodbye, and I too left for my house. Walking along the calm canal, in the dark night with the moon yet behind the trees, I passed many houses along with thoughts that appeared evanescent. As I was about to enter my house without thinking much, I noticed the lit pavilion. I could feel its attraction from far away and walked towards it. The closer I came, the better the view seemed. The bright pavilion shone as the white stone scattered the light around the canal, and that clear water too showed me the burning red of those flames.
The group from the morning was there, alongside a few more people. Ms Orchard was the first one to notice me. She welcomed me, while the staff served me. Mr Canary seemed jovial while Mr Bones seemed a little tired and tanned. ‘Good day?’ I asked them.
Mr Canary was ecstatic. ‘Oh, very much, Mr Dew,’ he said, laughing constantly. ‘Saw a Blue-eyed Ground-dove. Beautiful thing. Extremely rare.’ He kept elaborating. I listened but did not understand much. ‘What about you, Mr Dew?’ he innocently asked, without noticing the interest around. They were interested to know too.
I did not know how to answer. This was a peculiar situation. How do you even relay such a thing? I did not know. Disappointment would be aplenty. Doubts were sure to arise. ‘We spent an entire day on it, Mr Canary,’ I said to the man, pretending not to notice the stares. ‘But no conclusion was derived.’
‘That is disappointing,’ said the man. He did not seem it, but others did. ‘Let us hope for the next meeting to be more productive.’ He had a smile as he washed his mouth with red wine.
‘Well,’ I murmured awkwardly, ‘there won’t be a next meeting.’ I found those questioning gazes heavy. ‘The Dean said we have wasted too much time on this matter and will allow no more of this.’ I watered my parched throat. It felt great. ‘He said Arcane Knowledge will not enter any department.’ That was truly the worst experience. It was a complex matter, and I was not the most capable person to explain it in fewer words. The stares were, as I had expected, of doubt and ridicule. ‘The Dean had come prepared in case no conclusion was reached. He brought along with him a proposition for an…independent course.’
‘Really?’ asked Ms Oak. The air was heavy, and all seemed to have more food for their thought than their mouth. Ms Orchard was reticent as usual despite being in thought. Ms Lore didn’t care, it seems.
‘So, you won’t be entering any department, Mr Dew?’ asked Mr Canary, and I could hear the whispers of ‘that’s a shame.’
I looked the man in the eye, and with all my solemnity said, ‘Not exactly.’ Here is where it all sort of tangled into an artistically genius mess. ‘I will be working alongside all the departments.’ I kept sweating buckets. ‘As Arcane Knowledge is a new subject with no specific direction, I am supposed to work alongside the rest of the courses. Arcane Knowledge has a wide area of usability and interest, so our cooperation should benefit me and the departments alike. That is how the Dean sees it.’ I kept taking Dean’s name. I did not want to blame him, but if it were either between either him or me, I was definitely going to push all the blame on him. My shamelessness could attest to that. ‘So, I suppose, we will be working together from now on. Please, come ask if you have any need for me,’ I said politely.
I saw some disappointment and doubt, but mostly my last words were sugar to their tongues. Who wouldn’t want to have a handy mage? A flurry of questions flew at me. They were truly ridiculous.
‘Can you call birds with magic?’ Mr Canary asked.
What do I look like? ‘No,’ I replied.
‘Can you strengthen bones to never break?’ asked Mr Bones.
One should not be so literal. ‘No.’ Not that I have tried.
‘Electricity?’
You again? I said, 'No,' remember? ‘I have not done any research regarding this yet.’
And the questions continued into the night as I had dinner. I slept contently that night. And when I woke up, it was the day of my trial — the first day.
