“The Academy, yes, yes, such a great place. Mmh ? Of course I'm kidding, you oaf. Have you ever been there ? No, it's obvious, or else you'd know. I'm not sure whether it's the students or the professors that are the worst. I'm serious. The students are dim-witted, arrogant, and most of the time, of a spectacular and borderline suicidal mediocrity. Fine, but doesn't that embody what it means to be a student ? The professors, on the other hand, are the devil's lackeys. They're either evil bastards, sneaky plotters, or uncaring slobs. Some will break your bones and call it pedagogy. Some will let you dabble in forbidden rituals until you figure out by yourself that most are very dangerous and very much asking for your soul as a sort of compensation. And the teachers usually don't care about the utter chaos and doom you cause around you. When they do, it's to complain about how dangerous and noisy the students are. Then they go home because, no, they can't be bothered with solving the issue they created. I have no idea why the collective imaginary depicts magicians as smart and intellectual people.

-anonymous professor”

* * *

Azcheron

I've been tricked ! Curse you, Anton ! This is going to bring me far more trouble than just being a run-of-the-mill student.

Azcheron was standing in a lecture hall, facing about a hundred noisy students. People were whispering. Who was he, they asked. How should I know, some answered. Do I look like I care, others complained. Isn't he kinda hot, some high pitched voices wondered. I bet he wouldn't stand five seconds against me in a duel, some low pitched voices replied.

Azcheron could hear everything with sound magic. He really really regretted being here at the moment. No, he wasn't about to introduce himself, neither was he making a presentation. As Anton promised two days ago, he wasn't attending class as a student. These people would see him almost everyday from now on, but most would never even bother to learn his name. His position was much more anonymous, yet much more visible.

“Alright then, silence, everyone. We'll start the lesson.”

Anton spoke, not far from him, addressing the class. His words were effective and the students obeyed immediately, as if these boot rumours didn't exist anymore when he was in a classroom.

That's Anton for you. He was not my teacher for nothing. Still, this old bastard...

Azcheron was wearing a sort of mage gown. The students wore a dark blue one, while his and Anton's had a deep black colour. Yes, they were wearing the same gown, because Anton had coerced Azcheron into becoming his assistant. His official title, 'assistant-professor', would quickly be replaced by an informal one among many students : 'who's this damn guy not even older than me acting like a teacher ?'.

It was part of the reason why Azcheron felt that this would prove to be far more annoying than being a student. That, and the job itself looked very demanding.

Professor Anton Vardt taught two subjects at the Academy, both were advanced classes destined to the older students. One was about military magical engineering and the other, raw mana manipulation.

Azcheron easily understood why he was needed for the latter. He knew he would actually be more helpful than Anton on this subject and perhaps he could even come to enjoy teaching. At least he hoped. As long as the students weren't incredibly incompetent or insufferable.

But the engineering class had nothing to do with the fields Azcheron excelled in. It was a lesson where people learned how to conceive, design and build things like siege weapons and magical artillery, and so on. He knew that Anton had a long list of military achievements under his belt, and the knowledge that came with it, but Azcheron himself knew practically nothing about this application of magic.

Fighting and killing with magic, that he indeed knew, but how to use or build – and face – monstrosities meant for warfare and siege battles was something entirely new.

It turned out that he was being used, once again, for his mastery of mana. There were insanely large and heavy components to move and place with precision, and he was the perfect workforce. Well, he was the only one able to do that kind of work. Everyone else would take too long or do an amateurish job if they tried to go faster.

It was an exhausting work that required a lot of concentration from Azcheron, but a week later he wasn't complaining anymore. Even if he wasn't passionate or even good at these things, it was important to know about it. He realized after the first day how useful this knowledge would become if he were to, let's say, attack a city or defend against an army in the distant future.

And, knowing himself better than anyone else, he suspected he'd probably try something like that at some point.

Azcheron couldn't really figure whether Anton had planned for this, or if he really forced him to participate in this class just to annoy him.

Certainly both. He probably didn't envisaged that I'd take part in wars, at least not before I told him about my plans of fame and glory, but he may have thought that it would interest me somehow. And he definitely knows how hard and tiring it is to use wind and gravity magic on these absurdly heavy gears.

Still, the other half of the problem remained. He was gathering too much attention, and not the kind he wanted.

He'd have to do something about it, soon.

* * *

Two weeks passed since Azcheron's arrival to the capital, and a bit less since he started 'teaching' at Anton's side.

In this late afternoon, he was yet again on the Academy's grounds, but this time not in his capacity of assistant-professor. He was going to attend an open seminary, the likes of which occurred several times every week.

Anyone could attend, and the subject of the lecture varied according to the field of the academician giving it.

Anyone could attend, but not everyone did. Mainly because the lectures were not always accessible to beginners, as both introductory and advanced courses could take place.

There was a second reason that no one really spoke of, but Azcheron had noticed, being directly concerned. One without status had to be brave enough to bear the looks of disdain and mockery given by half the people present – more often than not, nobility that prided itself in its education and didn't exactly appreciate seeing supposedly uneducated commoners listening to the same lectures.

It wasn't that bad for Azcheron seeing as he was now somehow respected by most of Anton's students, who came to understand his talent with raw mana. Still, he would often notice a few looks of disgust of hatred in the lecture hall, though he found it rather amusing, if anything.

This evening's seminar would be about anatomy, a subject that interested both Azcheron and Erin. Hence, he was waiting for her to arrive in front of the hall entrance.

The freezing air was numbing his face, and it had started to snow during the day. Azcheron didn't dare to imagine how harsh was the cold outside the capital. He was honestly thankful to the Second Emperor or whoever was the genius who designed this weather artefact.

Ah, there she is.

As Erin walked toward him, he noticed the clearly irritated look on her face.

He called out to her. “Are you aware that you look like you're about to stab someone ? You're almost late, by the way.”

“I know, because I do feel like stabbing someone. Many someones, to be exact. They're called the Verald family.”

“Oh.” He scratched his chin. “Well, shall we go inside ? Better have your rant in the warmth of the lecture hall.”

Azcheron had an idea about the cause of Erin's anger. She had been coming with him to a few seminars in the past two weeks, and some people had apparently recognized her. And this morning, a butler of some sort approached her to tell her that her family wished to have a talk with her. It did not take a genius to guess that the meeting went awry.

“Why didn't you wait for me inside ?” Erin whispered as they sat in the back of the lecture hall.

“I didn't feel like subjecting myself to the customary display of intellectual mediocrity.”

They could see that the professor had not arrived yet, but they wanted to avoid being heard by everyone, since they were already being observed.

“I can see that.”

“So, how did it go ?”

She answered snidely. “Badly. Don't tell me you were hoping for something else ?”

“I'd be almost disappointed otherwise. I mean, what did they want ?”

“Pretty much what I expected. They asked – more like ordered – that I keep a low profile and refrain from bringing any dishonour to the family during my stay here, which of course they'd like to be as brief as possible.”

“My, my. 'Tis nice to feel the love of your family, isn't it ?”

“I perfectly agree. I almost made my uncle feel the love of my dagger when he 'asked' that I also stop showing myself at the Academy, and what's more, in the company of a lowly commoner. That would be you, I gather.”

“Surely you will comply with these reasonable demands, being the good daughter that you are.”

She let out a small laugh. Some heads turned in their direction, wearing a disapproving expression. The lecture had just started, so they kept on in an even lower voice.

“Still, I managed to get at least one good thing out of this, but they won't be happy when they find out.” She took off her furred overcoat and pointed at herself. “My old knight uniform. Oddly enough they kept it, I guess that an achievement is still an achievement even when it comes from me. ”

Azcheron didn't notice before because of her coat, but now even in the obscurity of the lecture hall's last row, he could see that she was dressed differently than usual.

Erin was now wearing some sort of dark-coloured velvet tunic and pants. The tunic was long sleeved and had a mandarin collar, buttoned tightly from the neck to below the waist, covering the top of the thighs, and fastened with a black leather belt. The boots, made from the same leather, were slender and seemed very light, the complete opposite of the thick travelling boots she wore before.

She explained Azcheron that this was the regular imperial attire for knights when they attended ceremonies or public social events, in this case a seminar. Most knights usually wore it in their everyday life, basically whenever they were not in armour, but until now Erin did not dare to do the same, because she had to lay low.

She does not seem to care about drawing notice, now. All the better. People associating with the attention-gathering me have to be equally attention-gathering !

She wasn't carrying her sword with her, but Azcheron knew that she at least kept her dagger somewhere on herself. She had a boyish look overall, with her confident smile, her scar running down her left cheek, her neck-length straight hair squaring her sharp facial features, and the simple but stylish knight's clothing. Yet it didn't impede her feminine grace and her curves.

And those clever golden eyes. She gave the feeling of a dangerous but very elegant warrior. He had thought that before, but this time it was different.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Azcheron gazed at a woman through the eyes of a young man.