Matabar

Ardan woke up to the familiar creak of a door hinge. Instinctively, he tried to sit up, only to hit his head on the low ceiling. Hissing like a forest cat, he rubbed his sore forehead. Blinking away the grogginess, he turned his gaze toward the narrow strip of glass that served as a window. He had chosen the top bunk despite its limited space because of this. Ardan had always woken with the sun and had never needed an alarm clock — not that he even owned one.

But, as always, Metropolis and the Imperial Magical University were full of surprises. Last night, even with his half-blood Matabar vision, Ardan hadn’t noticed that the strip of glass was so dirty, and covered in so much grime and grease, that only the most stubborn and persistent rays of light could penetrate it.

Looking around, Ardi saw the rumpled beds, the suitcases by the foot of the beds, and the haphazardly-piled travel bags. It seemed his new roommates had arrived sometime near dawn, choosing not to unpack their belongings either. What surprised Ardan was that he had been sleeping so deeply that he hadn’t woken up when several others — Firstborn, no doubt — had entered the room.

Well, then…

Stretching, Ardan grabbed his boots, which he had tied together by their laces and hung at the head of his bunk. His suits and both pairs of shoes, ’gifts’ from the Anorsky family, were stowed in his bag, reserved for better times. Times when he could sell them and finally clear his debts while not helping others fulfil their Fae deal …

After slipping on his work boots, he changed his shirt (thankfully, Tatiana had laundered all his clothes, for which he was deeply grateful) and realized with a grim frown that he only had one clean shirt left. Fastening his belt with its wide buckle, he slid a knife into the sheath at the small of his back and grabbed his toothbrush set from his satchel. Armed with a bristled stick and powder, he peeked out into the hallway.

The corridor was already bustling. Students rushed along, some armed with the same toothbrushes and powder jars, heading toward the bathrooms. Others, straightening their cloaks and grabbing their staves, had slung strange leather satchels over their shoulders — satchels that reminded Ardan of postmen’s bags — and were making their way toward the stairs.

"What’s your first class, Duvin?" Asked a tall, slightly-shorter-than-Ardan half-elf with pitch-black hair in a melodic voice.

"Let me check," grumbled his companion, a short but broad-shouldered dwarf with sideburns that curled like sheep’s wool. "It’s… ’The Introductory Lecture on Star Engineering Theory’ with the second group of the General Faculty."

Ardan almost choked in sheer surprise. Could it be that luck was finally on his side? He clearly remembered his own schedule. His first class, starting at eight in the morning, was exactly what Duvin, the pure-blooded dwarf, had mentioned: "The Introductory Lecture on Star Engineering Theory." And Ardan was, indeed, in the second group of the General Faculty’s first-year students.

"Excuse me," Ardan cleared his throat to catch their attention. "Could you tell me where room 4-215 is? It’s listed in my schedule."

"Four two-fifteen?" the dwarf repeated. "Ah, you’re heading the same way as me? Well, it’s a bit tricky, big guy. You’ve got to head to the atrium, take the east wing, then turn… Actually, you’d better stop by the information desk and buy a ma-"

The half-elf, who had been eyeing Ardan closely all this time, nudged his friend and whispered something into his ear.

The dwarf stiffened, frowned, and threw a not-so-friendly look at Ardan.

"Egobar," he muttered before spitting on the ground. Rolling up his schedule, he and the half-elf walked off toward the stairs, their heels clicking almost in sync, and their wool coats rustling as they went.

As soon as the name "Egobar" was uttered, the lively hallway froze for a moment. Dozens of eyes turned toward Ardan, and in each pair, he read different sorts of — though none of them pleasant — emotions.

Ranging from open disdain and hatred to indifference and thinly-veiled envy, none were neutral.

"Good morning," Ardan sighed, forcing out a crooked smile before turning toward the bathrooms.

Inside, the bathrooms were only somewhat smaller than the luxurious ones in the duchess’ mansion, which probably said a lot. Seven sinks with automatic water dispensers lined one wall. Opposite them were seven toilet stalls, separated by wooden partitions painted an unpleasant, murky green. At the far end were four open showers, also with automatic water dispensers.

As Ardan had discovered, this entire system, like the heating, ran on Ley energy-powered pumps. Only a little over ten percent of the homes in Metropolis could boast such innovations, and most relied on simple physics, using massive cisterns on their roofs to supply water through gravity-fed pipes.

When Ardan approached a free sink, a young man of about twenty-two was already standing beside him. The stranger smiled at his "neighbor," but before Ardan could return the smile, a passing student whispered something to the man, and his expression immediately soured. Without a word, the man turned away, any interest he’d had in Ardan lost.

As Ardan had expected, no one at the Grand, at least for the next few months, would remain indifferent to the presence of an Egobar at the university. And each person would have their own reason for it.

In time, of course, just like in Evergale, things would settle down. Students would grow accustomed to his presence and become absorbed in their usual routines. But that would take time — probably until after the New Year.

Sighing and shaking his head, Ardan brushed his teeth and returned to his room, where he grabbed his staff and laid out his textbooks on the bed. He packed the rest of his belongings into his satchel, though there wasn’t much left to store, so there was plenty of space.

He placed three textbooks in the now-empty bag, the ones required for today’s lectures. At the Grand, students had six class days out of seven.

Weekly Class Schedule:

Sixth Day (Today):

8:00 in the morning — 15-minute break — 10:30 in the morning

"The Introductory Lecture on Star Engineering Theory."

Room: 4-215. Joint class with Group 1 from the Faculty of Star Engineering.

Professor: Dr. Erik Convel, Doctor of Engineering and Senior Magister of Star Engineering.

Textbooks:

"Star Engineering: General Theory," by E. Convel

"Principles of Interaction between Ley Energy and the Material World," by Sh. Tovalev

"A Brief Overview of Basic Seal Types," by Sh. Tovalev & N. Tovalev

10:50 in the morning — 15-minute break — 1:20 in the afternoon

"An Introduction to the Theory of Star Biology and Alchemy."

Room: 7-001. Joint class with Group 3 from the Faculty of Star Biology and Alchemy.

Professor: Dr. Nathan Kovertsky, Senior Magister of Star Alchemy.

Textbooks:

"Living Organisms and the Ley" by N. Kovertsky

"Handbook on Ley Flora and Fauna" by AshKau-Tan (Translated by Nikiti Dubov)

— ONE-HOUR BREAK —

2:20 in the afternoon — 3:50 in the afternoon

"An Introduction to General Physical and Military Training."

Location: Training Grounds.

Instructor: Colonel Vseslav Kshtovsky, War Mage, Senior Magister of War Magic.

You’ll need comfortable clothing or your uniform, if available.

Today, Ardan had only three lectures, each lasting two hours and fifteen minutes (the break, it seemed, was included in that time), followed by military training for an hour and a half. On other days, according to his schedule, the General Faculty students would have four lectures. Interestingly, all of the classes, except the "General Theory of Star Magic," were taught alongside other faculties, which seemed logical.

Mart had mentioned that the first-year courses often shared lectures. As they progressed through their second and third years, the joint lectures became rarer, and by the time students reached the end of third year, they would hardly ever attend classes with students from other faculties.

The only exception was general military training. Every mage who graduated from the Grand received a junior officer rank and was considered a first-rank military conscript.

What did that mean?

Unlike the Principality of Fatia or the island nations, the Empire did not need traditional conscription draft. Its army was sustained by regular recruitment and a system known as the "lottery forces."

This referred to young men who, upon turning seventeen, would receive a summons from the provincial military office if their identification number was chosen at random. These men, whether they wanted to or not, and even if they’d had no intention of ever becoming recruits, would then have to serve for five years.

This system fueled various rumors in the newspapers. Stories about corruption in military offices were frequent, claiming that identification numbers were anything but randomly selected, and that there were cases where one person would be drafted in place of another.

Of course, even if someone "won" the lottery, that didn’t guarantee they would actually serve. First, there was the medical examination, followed by the professional commission, which would confirm whether the conscript had a critical occupation for the region. Also, after the young men spent five years marching across parade grounds, only about a quarter of them would ask to be discharged. The rest would choose to bind their futures to the army.

After all, it came with good pay, accommodations, benefits for their children… While on the civilian side of things, after years of service, they had neither a profession nor a clear path forward.

As Teacher Parnas used to say, the army was one of the Empire’s fastest social elevators — elevators that had an entrance but no exit.

And what did it mean to be a "first-rank conscript?" It meant that if an order came from the military office (whether there was a war or not), these individuals had to drop everything and immediately report for duty for however long they were needed.

That was why every Star Mage, in every higher educational institution with a Star Magic faculty, was required to undergo military training.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Ardan made his way out of the basement (or rather, the "minus-first floor"), passing by the loudly snoring warden, who was slumped in his chair, a half-full bottle of wine dangling from his hand.

As Ardan moved through the passageway toward the atrium, he took a moment to inspect the other doors more closely. As he’d suspected, each was marked with a number. They likely referred to all those different buildings Ardan had seen when he’d first arrived at Star Square.

The Imperial Magical University wasn’t just an enormous skyscraper of mind-boggling design, it was also an entire complex of structures.

On one of the doors, Ardan even noticed a slightly tarnished, brass number "7," which matched the room listed for one of his lectures later in the day. But, considering he had just over half an hour before class, he decided to follow the dwarf’s advice.

The atrium, in contrast to the bustling activity of the previous evening, was much quieter this morning. Most students were either moving from door to door or rushing toward the elevators. Only a small number sat on the couches and benches near the monument, while the rest congregated at the information desk. Surprisingly, Ardan saw no students in cloaks staffing it this time. Instead, the familiar yellow uniforms were in charge.

Approaching a free clerk, Ardan found himself facing a man in his forties, with graying hair, a gap between his teeth, and sagging skin.

"Good morning, student," the clerk greeted him.

"Good morning," Ardan replied a bit slowly.

"How can I help you today?"

"Where are all the stud-"

"You must be new around here," the yellow-clad clerk interrupted, casting a slightly mocking and somewhat condescending glance at Ardan. Yes, compared to the other students, with their clicking heels, rustling pants, and in the case of the women, long skirts and dresses, Ardan’s work boots, simple pants, shirt, and leather vest stood out. "The university has traditions. One of them is that on opening day, students handle all the administrative work, helping their future colleagues. But that’s only for the opening day."

That… made sense. If students were involved in all the administrative tasks at the Grand, when would they ever find time to study? It also explained Bazhen’s earlier remarks about punishments involving work in the various offices.

"So, how can I assist you?" The clerk asked again.

"Could I please get a map of the university?"

"Certainly," the clerk nodded, rummaging under the desk before pulling out a neatly-folded square of typed-out paper crisscrossed with black lines. "That’ll be twelve kso."

Gritting his teeth at the steep price, Ardan reluctantly pulled out his wallet from his boot — earning another condescending chuckle from the clerk in the process — counted out the coins, and laid them on the counter.

"Have a nice day," the clerk said as he swept the money into the register.

Ardan wondered why the university even had a cash register…

Stepping aside, he unfolded the map and realized he hadn’t wasted his money. The Grand’s layout was more convoluted than he had anticipated.

As he had suspected, each building was assigned a number, but the numbers didn’t seem to follow a logical pattern like "left-to-right" or "right-to-left." Instead, they were assigned according to the order in which the buildings had been constructed. Thus, Building 5 could be right next to Building 2, and Building 4 might be next to Building 9. Proximity had nothing to do with the numbers; it was all about when they had been built.

The skyscraper itself — or, as the map labeled it, the "Main Building" — was designated as "1."

Each of them had multiple floors, which were listed right after the building number. For example, the Biology and Alchemy complex had "only" eight floors, the Engineering complex had three, and the Main Building had fifty-seven.

And, as one might’ve guessed, the last two digits referred to the room number.

Thus, 4-215 meant the fourth building (Engineering), second floor, room 15. The only thing Ardan didn’t understand was why they didn’t just post a map in the atrium and corridors. Then no one would have to buy one, and…

Ah.

Of course. The Metropolis…

Ardan folded the map and tucked it into his bag, sliding it between the books to keep it from getting wrinkled, then headed toward the eastern wing as instructed. His boots clattered against the polished floor as he passed through the imposing front doors and into another corridor. According to the map, this corridor connected the eastern wing to the Main Building and, like the western wing, led to the dormitories — the women’s dormitories specifically.

Mart had told him that young men and women frequently tried to sneak into each other’s dorms for… Well, for obvious reasons. It led to all sorts of stories, both amusing and not.

After all, first-year students were still young. Their blood ran hot, and their minds often lagged behind the desires of their flesh. It was likely because of this that, about a century ago, the Magisterium (the bureaucratic body overseeing the mages of the Empire), also known as the Mages’ Guild, had nearly outlawed duels to the death.

It was still legally possible to challenge someone to a duel to the death, if you managed to secure a second from the Magisterium. However, as Mart had explained, they would use every possible excuse to postpone the duel, and the challengers could end up waiting years. By that time, most would withdraw their requests and resolve the issue more peacefully.

As Ardan made his way to the fourth building, located just behind the ninth, he overheard snippets of conversation from the students walking beside him.

"I heard Convel likes to quiz you on general theory rules during the first lecture," one girl, who was wearing a star badge with three points on her cloak, fretted.

"And Eliza also told me that he’s a misogynist and hates female students!"

"Your Eliza tried to pass his exam with an obscenely low neckline instead of brains! Of course he screwed her over."

"But not in the way she was hoping!"

The girls giggled and hurried into the Engineering building. Ardan, thankful for his sharp hearing, followed them inside.

The interior of the Engineering Faculty’s building, home to the creators of artifacts and new seals, was quite… impressive. Not in terms of size, but due to its refinement. The floors were just as polished and shiny as those in the atrium of the Main Building, though made of wood rather than marble.

Instead of tapestries and carpets, the walls were lined with numerous portraits of notable figures who had graduated from these halls. The portraits depicted them receiving high honors, shaking hands with prominent people, or posing with their inventions.

The wide staircase leading to the upper floors gleamed almost like a mirror, while the doors in the winding corridors were all freshly varnished and adorned with silver number plates.

It was no wonder that aspiring students vied to get into this department. If the Engineering Faculty had this much money, one could only imagine the average salaries of its graduates — and that was enough to make anyone salivate.

Or maybe Ardan was just hungry.

His scholarship didn’t cover breakfast or dinner, only lunch, and Ardan wasn’t about to spend extra money just yet. Not until he could sell the Anorsky suits, pay off his debt, and find some work in the city. Once he settled in, then he could think about food. And he’d also have to send some money back home to Delpas — not because his family needed it, but because Ardan felt obligated. He had to take care of his pack. It was a way to ease the burden on his conscience, however small.

As he mulled all of this over, Ardan and the group of chatty students made their way to the second floor. Most of the students made their way inside without lingering in the corridor, while Ardi paused by the windows, where he could see the sprawling city. It was greeting its inhabitants with a gloomy, gray morning, where a light drizzle was mixing with a transparent mist that veiled the streets.

Streetlights glowed, trams clanged along their rails, cutting through the liquid mirrors of cold puddles, and car headlights pierced the drizzle. The automobile silhouettes ranged from sleek, expensive models to older, clunky ones. Ardan had learned to tell the difference. Take that low, elongated vehicle, for instance, with its leather convertible top, wood-trimmed doors, and plush red leather seats inside. Behind the wheel sat a middle-aged man smoking a cigar, occasionally flicking ash onto the street.

Trailing behind it like a lumbering old ox was a completely different kind of machine. Almost square in shape and covered in iron, with peeling paint, it swayed from side to side, occasionally belching black smoke from a pipe under its chassis.

The Grand was situated in Metropolis’ business district, where most of the workforce consisted of finance professionals. They clicked away on typewriters in stock exchanges and banks, in large firms, accounting companies, and probably some private clinics as well.

"Good morning, Ard."

Ardan turned to see Elena Promyslov standing behind him. She wore a warm, woolen dress with a long, black skirt that brushed against her crimson shoes, and she’d covered the top half of her dress with a white vest. Her red cloak looked more like a fashion accessory than a badge of honor, highlighting her pretty face and the rosy glow on her slightly rounded cheeks.

Ardan wasn’t well-versed in the ways of high society, but something told him that not all maids had the means to dress like this.

"Good morning, Elena," he greeted her in return.

"Boris sends his regards," she said with a soft smile. "And he asked me to remind you that he gave you our address."

"He can remind me himself," Ardan shrugged. "We have a class together later today."

At that, Elena’s expression darkened slightly, and she turned away. Ardan chuckled to himself.

"Ah… right," he said, scratching the back of his head. "He probably shouldn’t be seen talking to me in public."

Ardan didn’t bother mentioning that Boris had been perfectly willing to extend a helping hand just the day before. But that had been yesterday, before they had both entered this tightly-knit, exclusive community. It was understandable that Boris wouldn’t want to jeopardize his standing by publicly aligning himself with someone like Ardan.

Spirits… Ardan had hoped that he’d left politics behind when he’d walked out of the Palace of the Kings of the Past.

"Don’t worry, Ard," Elena touched his arm gently. "By the time New Year’s rolls around, no one will care anymore."

"Yeah, I get that feeling, too," Ardan nodded, though he didn’t mention why that was, exactly. Instead, he asked, "What about you?"

"I’m just a maid in the service of a disinherited and disgraced lord," Elena replied, her eyes glinting with a touch of mischief. "Who cares about the people I talk to? Come on, Ard. We shouldn’t be late for our first lecture."

Ardan didn’t bother to remind her that they still had at least ten minutes before class started. Together, they entered the lecture hall, and Ardan immediately took in several details.

First, the walls were lined with that dark stone that absorbed Ley energy, like in the basement of the duchess’ mansion. The next thing that stood out was the desks, or rather, the workbenches. They were about three times wider than their distant cousins from Evergale’s school, large enough to seat not two, but six students. Despite that, students were seated in pairs.

Hanging from the ceiling above each workbench were cables that coiled around crossbeams. Ley-lamps dangled from these beams, emitting a soft, blue light instead of the usual white glow. The professor’s desk stood alone, facing a sizable graphite board framed by two shelves filled with numerous tomes.

Most of the students had already taken their seats. Among them, Ardan spotted the dwarf and the half-elf from earlier, but they pretended not to recognize him.

And for that, he was grateful.

He and Elena made their way to the back of the hall, where they took the last workbench by the window. It offered a view of the street that bordered the avenue. Of the thirty benches designed to seat sixty students, only twenty were occupied. Among those, Ardan noticed five students wearing the insignia of the Star Engineers, but there wasn’t a single woman among them.

The remaining fifteen benches were filled with members of the General Faculty — or rather, women from the General Faculty. Ardan realized, with some surprise, that he was the only male student in this group from his faculty.

"There are five guys in the first group," Elena whispered. "It’s strange that they divided us this way..."

To Ardan, it wasn’t strange at all. There were fifty-seven students in the first year of the General Faculty. Two groups of thirty and twenty-seven students respectively. Logically, they could have split the men evenly between the groups, or put them all in one group. If one had been excluded, it was to ensure he stood apart.

On the one hand, the Second Chancery was staying true to its goal of keeping Ardan isolated, while on the other, it was minimizing the chance that some hot-headed student might try to settle the score with him.

Not that either scenario couldn’t still happen with a female student, but the likelihood was much lower.

As if to confirm his suspicions, Ardan felt the gazes of several women from his class on him. Those gazes, like the ones he had felt earlier in the corridor, were filled with emotions. But this time, instead of hostility, they radiated a mixture of disdain and smug superiority.

As Shali had taught her protégé, females, who tended to lack the physical strength of males, often fought using other means — means that were sometimes far more dangerous and insidious than a bloody, but honest, fight.

"Don’t pay any attention to them," Elena whispered, arranging her belongings on the table.

Her textbooks were neatly stacked to one side, and she set a notebook down in front of her, along with an ink bottle, a pen, and a pencil. A few rulers, a seal template (Ardan had always wanted one since it made copying seals into a grimoire much easier), and her grimoire completed the arrangement.

Her grimoire wasn’t large, but it was bound in a fine leather cover with a gold-embossed design, a rose on the spine, and a delicate gold lock. It must have been incredibly expensive, and was surely the kind of item not available to just anyone.

Just a maid, huh? A maid with the faintest mark of a ring on her right hand… Ardan wondered if she and Boris had married before or after he had been disinherited and stripped of his birthright. At the end of the day, it was none of Ardan’s business what the aristocrats did in their personal lives.

"They’ll gossip and then stop eventually," Elena continued, still organizing her things. "Maybe spread some rumors, but nothing more. Most of the women in our faculty aren’t here for knowledge, but for-"

"A good marriage," Ardan finished, remembering Mart’s words. "Or because their parents sent them here."

"Exactly," Elena nodded, then quickly added, "but don’t think that all female mages are like that! There are many talented women in the magical sciences, just not in our faculty."

Ardan raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I think otherwise?"

"Because of the stereotype about female mages," Elena explained. "That women practice Star Magic only to…"

She cast a meaningful glance at their group. Among them were tall women and short ones, slender and curvy ones, brunettes, blondes, and redheads. There were also two half-elf women with long, pointed ears hidden beneath their hair, and one pure-blooded elf who proudly displayed her sharp ears. She regarded the others with cold, violet eyes, her silvery-white skin shimmering faintly. Her graceful figure, her long, elegant legs, and her delicate, beautiful features — all of these were traits that the Sleeping Spirits had bestowed upon the elves.

Mart had often wondered aloud whether people found elves beautiful because they truly were, or because the elves had monopolized the worlds of high fashion and beauty.

There weren’t any dwarf women or orc women, or even half-bloods of either, in Ardan’s group. But he realized that he had been wrong earlier when he’d thought that there was no malice.

In the violet gaze that briefly ran over him, there was plenty of it. Enough to drown in.

"By the way, there are lots of famous female mages in every scientific field," Elena went on. "So-"

Ardan’s mind flashed with images of his mother, Shali, Atta’nha, Anna, Cassara, Marshal Elliny, Katerina, and not to mention Velena Emergold. And all the other women Ardan had met along his path among the dreams of the Sleeping Spirits.

"I have no prejudices about that," he shrugged.

He honestly didn’t understand what Elena was talking about. In the harsh world of Evergale, there had been no time for such distinctions. Women did one kind of work, men did another. No one questioned which was harder or easier, who had more rights or fewer. Everyone was equally busy surviving. And if they didn’t work together, there would be no Evergale.

At that moment, a man in a navy blue robe with a broad, yellow sash entered the lecture hall. He looked to be about sixty years old, short and wizened, with piercing green eyes and a head of thick, graying hair.

In his hand, he carried a pointer that resembled a short staff (Ardan noticed a few seals carved into it), and on his shoulders, the man bore four stars. Four, seven, eight, and two-pointed stars. Judging by the color of his sash, it seemed that the rules about wearing one’s regalia had some flexibility, if not outright exceptions.

"Good morning, my colleagues," the doctor of Star Engineering greeted them as he glanced out the window. "Although, after spending my well-deserved vacation by the Azure Sea, mornings in the Metropolis don’t seem quite as good anymore."

A wave of chuckles rolled through the room, but Ardan, who had only read about the warmth of the Azure Sea in textbooks, couldn’t appreciate the joke.

"Unfortunately, that vacation is over, and so is your easy school life," the professor continued. "I am Senior Magister Erik Convel, and I am also the head of the Seal Construction Department."

A few claps were heard from the front rows where the Engineering students sat.

"Thank you, thank you," the professor smiled, revealing unnaturally perfect, white teeth for a man of his age. "Well then, since I have the honor of being your first guide into the world of high science, let’s not waste time and begin."

Convel waved his pointer, and a seal engraved on it lit up. First, it glowed with a yellow hue, then emitted a steady, blue light, much like the glow of the Ley-lamps.

At the same time, the textbooks on the students’ desks seemed to come to life, opening to the first page. But the small display of skill wasn’t over yet. The letters in the books sparkled with orange light, while on the graphite board, diagrams, formulas, and descriptions began to appear, written in that same blue light.

After a few moments, the light in the textbooks faded, leaving only the diagrams and symbols on the board, now looking as though they had been drawn with ordinary chalk.

"Judging by your eager expressions," the professor stood before his desk, arms crossed over his chest, "my traditional opening demonstration has had its intended effect. Well then, let’s assess your knowledge so we know where to start. Who can tell me the classification of the seal I just used?"

Ardan was astonished. What? He thought as several hands shot up into the air. Not just the Engineers, but a good half of the room was ready to answer the question, even though Ardan hadn’t even understood what had been asked.

"You, young lady," the professor aimed his pointer at someone. "Second row, fourth bench."

A girl with shiny earrings and a low forehead (which, oddly enough, suited her) stood up.

"That was a two-contour general-type seal," she replied. "If I’m not mistaken, two rays of the Red and one ray of the Green Star were used."

"Close, but incorrect," Convel replied without a hint of displeasure. In fact, he seemed energized by the response. "Next."

Fewer hands were raised this time, likely because a few others had come to the same incorrect conclusion.

Two-contour? What does that even mean? Ardan’s mind raced.

"You, young lady. First row, fifth bench."

The girl with violet eyes and sharp ears stood up.

"An embedded seal," she answered curtly.

"Even closer," the professor’s smile widened, and the number of raised hands dwindled further. "Perhaps you, young lady at the back, by the window?"

Elena stood up.

"It was a three-contour seal with an embedded array of free runes," she declared confidently.

Ardan struggled to draw in breath. Over the past few minutes, he hadn’t understood a single word that had been said. He’d pored over the textbook Mart had given him on the train, but it had only briefly mentioned that seals had different types, and that had been it!

"Very clever and close!" Convel clapped his hands. "But still not quite right."

By now, only three hands were still in the air, all of them belonging to the Engineering students. Of course, the professor hadn’t called on them just yet, as the question was about Star Engineering, which was their specialty.

"I see we have a particularly small number of gentlemen in the room this year," the professor’s eyes twinkled with mischief, "but that’s all the better — we’ll work in a garden of flowers… And since we’ve heard from three delightful young ladies, let’s hear from a gentleman. You, the young man in the cowboy hat — what do you think?"

Laughter rippled through the room, and Ardan inwardly cursed himself as he removed his hat. After weeks in the steppes, he had lost the habit of taking his hat off indoors.

"Well, at least you took it off," the professor remarked in good humor. "Oh, seven rays? Impressive... Impressive... Let’s see if your knowledge matches. What’s your theory?"

Theory? Ardan didn’t even know the words they were tossing around so easily here. Atta’nha had always said that sometimes, it was best to just be honest and say:

"I don’t know," Ardan replied.

Convel blinked a few times.

"Perhaps I wasn’t clear," the professor said, slightly taken aback. "I’m not asking for a direct answer, Mr...?"

"Egobar."

The professor flinched slightly, but quickly composed himself.

"Right. I’m not asking for a direct answer, Mr. Egobar," Convel repeated, his tone even. "Just a guess about the type of seal."

Ardan inwardly cursed the Stranger who had written the book he had studied from for so many years. That book hadn’t mentioned types at all, only "schools" — universal, combat, general, elemental, and the like.

"I don’t know the types of seals, professor," Ardan clarified, feeling as though he had stepped back in time to his very first day of school in Evergale.

A heavy silence fell over the lecture hall, pierced by glances filled with waves of disdain and, in some cases, oceans of irritation. For a moment, even Elena’s gaze flickered with a hint of frustration.

But Ardan didn’t blame anyone. If he’d been in their shoes, he would’ve probably felt the same.

"How... unusual," Convel cleared his throat. "As far as I’m aware, seal types are covered in the very first lessons of specialized Star Magic theory."

"We didn’t have that subject at my school," Ardan said simply. He wasn’t going to hide anything or try to make excuses. What would be the point?

The sooner he figured out what he didn’t know, as Atta’nha had taught him, the faster he could catch up.

"And where did you study?" The professor squinted at him, like a hound picking up the scent of prey.

"In a rural school."

A murmur of discontent rippled through the room. Elena, for her part, looked at Ardan with surprise rather than annoyance.

"Not a specialized school?" Convel clarified. "Just an ordinary rural school?"

"That’s right," Ardan confirmed.

The thing was, in such schools, Star Magic theory was taught not twice a week, but twice a month, and the topics were so general that… Well, to put it simply, they were taught more about safety around Ley energy devices than anything else.

"I see... That explains your lack of knowledge," the professor inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. "Take your seat, Mr. Egobar. I’ll make an exception for you this one time and pause my lecture briefly. But this will not happen again."

The professor returned to his desk, where he set down his pointer and picked up a pen and a sheet of paper, and then he began scribbling rapidly on it.

"How is that even possible?" Elena whispered to Ardan.

"What do you mean?"

"Back on the train, when the demon appeared," she said, stumbling over the word "demon," "you used some really complex war magic! And you did so without even knowing about seal types?"

"Was it really that complex?" Ardan asked in turn.

Elena stared at him as if he were some kind of strange, unknown creature.

She wanted to say more, but at that moment, the professor approached their table and placed a list of ten titles in front of Ardan.

"These are the books you’ll need to not just skim through, but practically memorize, Mr. Egobar," Convel said in the same calm, even tone from before. "That is, if you want to not only attend my lectures but actually understand anything. Not to mention the midterms this winter..."

The professor looked at Ardan with what seemed to be genuine pity before turning back to his desk.

"I apologize for the interruption, everyone," the professor said, shaking himself off like a dog emerging from water. "Now, let’s hear the correct answer. Mr. Utrov."

The half-elf from earlier stood up.

"You used not one, but two seals, Professor," he answered in a melodic, slightly sing-song voice. "The first was a single-contour seal of an even rune system, and the second was a two-contour seal with an embedded array of free runes."

"Excellent!" The professor beamed, his face lighting up as if he’d just witnessed a miracle. "You were incredibly close to the correct answer, Ms. Promyslov. Well done, Mr. Utrov. Now, let’s discuss the principle of attaching a complex-class seal to a simple-class seal, as you just witnessed. Your textbooks are already open to the correct page. So, let’s begin by looking at..."

What followed were a bunch of words and terms that made no sense to Ardan at all. It felt as though Professor Convel had switched languages entirely, leaving Ardan even more lost than before.

All he could do was furiously scribble down every single word the professor said, hoping to make sense of it later.

For the first time in a long while, Ardan felt the same thrill he had felt years ago while sitting in Atta’nha’s cave, back when she had asked him if he knew anything about the root of the Seven-Colored Nettle.