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An Otherworldly Scholar - 144
🕑 Added 2024-07-17 11:14:19 +0000 UTCLady Jorn put her hands on her hips and looked over my shoulder. Her eyes examined the orphanage at the speed of light, absorbing even the slightest details. I noticed her eyes stopping over the shattered shingles from that time I shot my shotgun to drive away Raudhan Kiln and his “henchmen”, but she remained silent. Her [Awareness] was feeding her all the small details of the manor’s facade; the peeling paint, the worn out shutters, and the water stained corners. Whether she had a strong opinion about the state of the manor, she didn’t mention it.
“Lady Jorn, what a pleasant surprise!” I said, forcing a smile.
“Just Lyra, please. I’m a Scholar first and the daughter of a duke second,” she replied with an awkward bow, her dark hair falling like a messy cascade over her face.
“I’ve noticed people put their rank before their Class, yes.”
Sending her away, however, wasn’t a possibility despite having Izabeka and Janus conspiring to commit crime in my backroom.
The Jorn servants unloaded Lyra’s luggage in the front yard, and a small mountain of suitcases, crates, and bags rose to the point Captain Garibal was dwarfed beside it. The Fortifier greeted Lady Jorn with a deep bow and seized the moment to retreat to the sidelines before getting buried. I glanced at the ever growing pile. If this baggage train was Lyra’s essentials, I didn’t want to know how much else she had left behind in the Jorn domain.
The sound of the movement must’ve alerted the little ones because they peeked out by the side of the manor and entered the front yard. Astrid and Loki appeared at the end of the line, both surveying the newcomers with the same animalesque distrust. Just as the little ones glanced at Lyra, the girl examined them back.
“Did you get us another sister?” Shu asked, using her small wings to propel herself forward to avoid falling behind the group. When did she learn that trick?
I must’ve been too busy with the older ones during the last three months to notice.
“This is Lady Lyra Jorn, the daughter of Duke Jorn. She will be living with us for a season, so I want all of you to be respectful. She will be your new teacher,” I said.
The kids looked at Lyra as if she were an exotic zoo animal. The Jorn Dukedom must have sounded like another planet for a group of kids who had never left Farcrest. Their attention, however, landed on the fact that they were going to have a new teacher. The little ones joined heads and whispered in silence. Ash massaged his temples in frustration, and I could only imagine what they were discussing. After a moment of deliberation, Shu came forward and took a deep breath, puffing her chest.
“We decided we have enough teachers already, but she seems nice so she can live with us nonetheless,” Shu said, acting like the spokeswoman of the group despite being the fourth in age after Ash and the twins.
Captain Garibal and the royal soldiers covered their smiles.
“What do you mean you have enough teachers?” I asked.
Shu crossed her arms and squinted her eyes, letting me know she was in full business mode. "Miss Elincia is teaching us to write and read, Mister Risha is teaching us camping and survival, and Ginz is teaching us crafts. Our playing time has been severely reduced, so we can’t fit another teacher into the current schedule right now.”
I stifled a laugh. Of course the kids weren’t used to the usual hours long school days most kids back on Earth were required to endure. Kids in Farcrest weren’t required to do much until they were fifteen and acquired their classes, unlike in medieval times, where apprenticeships started when kids were around ten or twelve. At least Shu’s communicative skills had improved since I arrived at the orphanage.
“I guess I have been going overboard with lessons,” I said. Back on Earth, schools doubled as a care service so parents could go to work in peace, which wasn’t the case for us. “Will it be okay if we replace some of Ginz and Risha’s classes with Miss Lyra’s?”
The kids joined heads again, and Lyra gave me a confused look. After another minute of deliberation, Shu stepped forward.
“What would Miss Lyra teach?”
That was a great question. Lyra was the only one who had received a formal education, and I wanted her to pass on some of those skills to the kids. Oratory and research skills would be useful to ‘cultivate’ their classes whether they become combatants or crafters. Scholars were the support of the support classes, after all, and I didn’t mind the kids having some of those skills to help themselves and others.
I scratched my chin. Oratory classes could be a barren subject for a group of small kids, so we better hide it behind a more interesting topic. I thought about what topics could benefit a group of children from the countryside the most. My plan was to help them turn into successful adults despite their Class, and in this world, successful adults tended to rub shoulders with the upper classes. The answer was kinda obvious.
Lyra was the most cosmopolitan member of the orphanage.
“Miss Lyra will teach you stories from around the kingdom,” I said. “It will be like the bedtime story hour, but in the mornings.”
Shu gave me a suspicious glance. “Just stories?”
“Yes, she will tell you stories and teach you how to tell them yourself,” I explained.
The kids were surprisingly eloquent already, even the snake twins when they weren’t busy talking potato-language, but there was always room for improvement. In the end, the credibility of a message depended more on the way it was communicated than the veracity of the content. It was a somewhat sad reality, but the form was as important as the content.
After another round of deliberation, the kids concluded they were okay with a storytime lesson.
“Isn’t she too young to be a teacher, though?” Shu pointed out.
My first impulse was to intervene, but I stopped myself. I wanted to see Lyra’s reaction to a kid’s verbal slip. If she was to impart lessons at the orphanage, I wanted to see first hand what her pedagogic approach was. My only benchmark for Imperial Library Scholars was Holst and I would rather avoid exposing the kids to high levels of stress in the classroom.
“I’m old enough,” Lyra replied, her overly enthusiastic manners suddenly replaced by a solemn demeanor. “My name is Lyra Jorn, I’m a Lv.28 Scholar, educated in the Spire of Hjorlund and the Imperial Library. I’m glad to meet you all, and I hope we can have fun together.”
The kids greeted back, but their attention was quickly drawn by Lyra’s luggage. It surprised me how tactful Lyra was with the kids. Astrid greeted the newcomers with a slight nod and followed the kids around the orphanage.
“I thought you’d be more Holsty,” I jokingly said.
Lyra looked away in a failed attempt to hide her awkwardness.
“I worked as a Guardian at the communal nursery before going to the Imperial Library. I was the youngest one ever and I was very good,” she said, defensively.
I wondered how many people disregarded Lyra’s ideas because of her age.
“Age has little to do with competence,” I pointed out.
“Right?!” Lyra’s face seemed to light up.
“But experience is the best teacher,” I added.
“I know. That’s why I’m here, to learn from a more experienced Scholar, and get that experience myself,” Lyra replied with a wide smile.
“I’m not that old,” I pointed out, feeling I had to slow down Lyra’s expectations.
“And I’m not that young,” she replied.
As we sorted Lyra’s belongings, she told me about her life in the Jorn Dukedom. Things weren’t that different from Farcrest. Both settlements were next to the Farlands and protected by a mountain range in the north. The main difference was that the monster fauna in the Jorn Domain used the mountain and its extensive cave systems as their habitat and hideout. Monster raids were a common occurrence in the Stone City of Hjorlund, the main Jorn settlement carved in the slope of a mountain, so kids were raised in nurseries deep into the heart of the city, not by their parents but by Guardians.
I wondered if the harsh environment determined the cold and silent demeanor I’d detected in Duke Jorn and his team. We continued talking as the servants carried the luggage into the sleeping quarters. Life in the Jorn Dukedom was harsh but unlike the rest of the Jorn family, Lyra had chosen the Scholar life as a way of looking for ways to improve life in her family’s domain.
I guided Lyra to the sleeping quarters and picked a room between Ginz’s and Astrid’s, by the end of the corridor. The manor couldn’t match the level of accommodations she had in Hjorlund or the Imperial Library, but I didn’t detect even a hint of displeasure in Lyra’s face.
“So, when do we start? I have many things I want to ask you. I have been working on some sketches I want you to see. You wouldn’t believe it, but I’ve been dreaming about the illusions you showed during the feast since then. The mix of mechanical and magical parts your craftsmen use is very clever.” Lyra said as she explored her new bedroom.
“I want to remind you I will not share the weapons of my country,” I said.
“Of course, of course, I wouldn’t think of demanding the military secrets of your kingdom,” Lyra quickly replied, a bit embarrassed. “My father doesn’t agree with me, but I believe the problems of Jorn Dukedom can’t be solved with brute force. Do you think we can adapt a flying machine for a single person to operate? If we are able to relay more complex messages in shorter time frames, we could use our strength more efficiently.”
Lyra’s brain worked faster than her tongue could put her thoughts into words, but as a fellow Scholar, I found it more endearing than annoying.
“We… well, Ginz is currently working on plumbing. I would like you to assist him until the end of the tournament. Then, we will have more time to follow a line of investigation suited for your goals,” I said, making a mental note to keep the gunsmith part of Ginz’s work hidden for the moment. Lyra was smart enough to realize the mechanisms on her own, but I hoped I had enough time to convince her that guns would bring as many problems as relief against monsters.
“I am in your care, then,” Lyra said, taking a deep breath and putting a saddle on her thoughts.
“For now, sort your things and get used to the pace of the orphanage, ok? Then, you can ask any of the kids to guide you to Ginz’s workshop. Astrid might appear a bit surly, but she’s a good girl,” I said, walking to the door. “Oh, and don’t let Ginz drag you into any strange projects. If you feel something is going to explode in the workshop, just run away. He’s been leveling up a lot lately, and his mind is a bit… clouded.”
Lyra nodded eagerly. Crafters leveling up at a constant rate meant an environment rich in innovation and ideas, perfect for a Scholar to develop. I stopped in the doorway and watched Lyra pull out piles over piles of books from the suitcases, wondering why the Imperial Library had expelled her without an explanation. Her talent might threaten a Scholar in a high position, or her research might have struck a nerve with the established canon. Academy was a hyper-competitive environment back on Earth, and I was sure it was the same case here.
I made another mental note to learn more from her time at the Imperial Library. if she was comfortable speaking about that.
“Lyra?”
“Yes, Master Clarke?”
“Try to stay inside the manor’s grounds until we deal with the stalker problem,” I said, as I wanted to keep Lyra away from the crossfire of our conflict against Kellaren.
“No one will dare put a finger on the orphanage as long as House Jorn breathes, plus Sir Garibal is kinda famous. Criminals will think thrice before attempting anything,” Lyra replied.
I closed the door before me and walked out of the sleeping quarters. I rubbed my temples, thinking of a way of hiding the multitude of small enchanted items around the orphanage from Lyra. I leaned over the window, making peace with the fact all my secrets were on life support. The older kids were meditating in the backyard, guided by Ilya. There were only two days until the fight against the Osgirians, and other than focusing and resting, there was little else to do. Zaon seemed to detect my presence with his skills because he opened an eye and waved at me.
I waved back, proud of them. Lord Herran’s words came back to me. There’s always a piece of the father in the son, even if they are not related by blood.
“No wonder why he gets all the girls, that sweet-talker,” I blushed in silence. His approval of my parenting-teaching methods had hit me on a soft nerve.
I returned to the ballroom, where Captain Kiln and Sir Janus were polishing the details of the heist. At least they hadn’t started a brawl. Even if they represented the polar opposites of Farcrest nobility, they both wanted the best for their hometown. Unfortunately for Kellaren, he wasn’t part of their plans for the future of the city.
Janus raised his head.
“Do you have visitors? I sensed two high-level individuals,” he asked, fiddling nervously with a small red marker.
I understood his reaction. Nobody could find out about our plans. “That should be Captain Garibal and Lyra’s escort, probably. Lyra Jorn will be doing an apprenticeship with me for the next year, so she will be staying at the orphanage,” I explained.
Janus raised an eyebrow.
“The second daughter of Duke Jorn?”
“Yeah. Our plan better work, because I don’t want to anger him,” I said.
Captain Kiln and Sir Janus agreed. We continued examining Kellaren’s manor layout, discussing the different scenarios we could find ourselves in. I showcased my [Minor Illusion], projecting doors, walls, and bookshelves. The more mana I put in the skill, the better resolution the illusion had. However, there was a limit. An overcharged illusion ‘reeked’ of mana, according to Sir Janus. To fool a Sentinel one had to find the sweet spot between visual definition and mana economy. Janus made me cast the spell a hundred times, calculating the perfect amount of mana required to fool his detection skills. Luckily for us, Janus’ Basic Class was Sentinel, so we could test my illusions against the actual detection skills. Time had passed since I was on the receiving end of a difficult lesson, and Janus wasn’t the gentlest instructor. Not that I expected anything else with everything on the line.
The sun was setting when Sir Janus finally approved my illusions, my mana pool was running low, and I felt an annoying tug around the speck of Corruption on my chest. I closed my eyes and focused on the Fountain, plucking a few strands to replenish my reserves. The bright white mana slowly acquired a blue hue as it settled into my pool.
Shortly after, Risha returned from his trip to the army’s camp with good news. He had pulled some strings and cashed out a couple of favors, so a small group of soldiers would protest Kellaren’s connection with the Aias Mercenaries outside the manor. Additionally, Risha convinced his closest army friends to stand guard for us, hiding in the building across the orphanage.
As my abuelita used to say: sometimes, a million loyal friends are better than a million dollars. She also said you can always ask each one for a dollar later.
“When you have saved the life of everyone at least once, you have a lot of leverage,” Risha grinned.
We were discussing Risha’s distraction when Elincia entered the ballroom, carrying a tray with sandwiches.
“You didn’t have to,” Captain Kiln said with a hungry smile.
Elincia sighed and dropped in the chair next to me. “Even the mighty captain of the Guard needs food to function.”
Everyone grabbed a bite except Janus. I wasn’t hungry either, but I forced myself to eat. We were standing on the razor’s edge, and the mood in the room was gloomy. Our plan was good, and the timing of the tournament was perfect. Janus had experience getting into places undetected from his time with the late Prince Ragna, and I had the perfect skill set for the job. However, I had everything to lose.
Elincia put two satchels of potions on the table.
“Health, Stamina, and Mana, three of each. You can tell them apart by the color of the cork. Blue, Red, and Green. The high-grade ones have three knots, and the low-grade ones have only one,” she said. “Memorize the layout in case you can’t use your eyes.”
The color coding was obviously wrong, but I kept it to myself. I didn’t feel like joking.
“Let’s call it a day,” Janus said. “If anything changes, or your mole finds something useful, let me know. I’ll be in the Great Hall acting like a regular Imperial Knight.”
“I also have to return. Can’t leave Tauron alone with half of the upper crust plotting around,” Captain Kiln said.
We rolled the manor’s layout and cleared any traces of our plans. I escorted Janus and Izabeka to the entrance, where they exchanged pleasantries with Sir Garibal before leaving on foot. It seemed everyone above a certain level knew each other. Captain Kiln was a Lv.51 Knight, and Sir Janus wasn’t far from breaking the fifties barrier himself.
Farcrest suffered monster attacks regularly, yet there were only three people who broke level fifty: Captain Kiln, the Marquis, and Chieftain Alton. At first I thought level caps were a smart safeguard by the System to avoid super-high levels wreaking havoc among low levels, but now I wondered if it had more to do with the System’s capacity to function properly. More high levels meant more mana usage, and more mana usage meant more chances to create Corruption.
I returned to the sleeping quarters, wondering what made Izabeka, the Marquis, and Chieftain Alton different from the rest. The manor was in complete silence. I opened the door of the little ones’ bedroom just to find them sleeping. Astrid was sitting in the corner, the storybook hanging from her languid hand. She must’ve fallen asleep first because she had a blanket over her shoulders.
Loki opened his eyes and gave me a deep, admonishing ‘woof’.
I raised my hands in defeat and closed the door. A sudden feeling of discomfort got a hold on me. My brain knew from a logical standpoint, that I had to keep the kids safe. That was what adults, teachers, and good people were supposed to do. However, I felt a deeper drive that had little to do with logic and more with instinct.
There was yet another solution to our problems with Kellaren: murder. Without Kellaren, Firana did not have enough grip to keep the mercenary company going. Without an experienced commander, the new mercenary recruits would disband. And without enough manpower, the Aias Mercenaries were as well as useless to the Osgirians.
I walked back to my bedroom, nursing dark thoughts, but I didn’t want to become a cold-blooded murderer. I wanted to be someone the kids could look up to.
The bedroom was in complete darkness. The washed-away colors of my [Night Vision] made it seem almost like a dream. Elincia was waiting for me, lying on the bed, her nightgown highlighting her hips and legs. Suddenly, my heart felt lighter. The elves from Vedras’ retinue couldn't hold a candle to her. I didn’t know if it was the faint freckles, the dark circles around her eyes, or that untamed gleam that sometimes shone behind her eyes, but there was something that put her light years apart.
“What are you thinking about?” Elincia asked as I sat on the bed by her side.
“Your freckles,” I replied.
“Why do Scholars have to be so detail-oriented?” She smiled, grabbing my hand and putting it over her heart. Her pulse was accelerated.
Was she scared?
“I know it will be dangerous but—”
Elincia put her hand on my mouth and pushed me down on the bed. Then, she climbed on me and brought her face close to mine, her silver hair forming a curtain around us. There was nothing else in my world other than Elincia. My heart accelerated. It wasn’t her legs against my sides, the nightgown sticking to her figure, or even her warm body pinning me down against the bed, but her emerald gaze. I wasn’t before the caretaker but the wild spirit that yearned for the forest and the rivers on the other side of the mountains.
“Yes. I know it will be dangerous. That’s why, even if it’s on a whim, I don't want to have any regrets,” she whispered.
Comments
Mohamed
Thanks for the chapter
Ry
Nice
