Nobody

Chapter one. Good morning, brother.

Zorian's eyes abruptly shot open as a

sharp pain erupted from his

stomach. His whole body convulsed,

buckling against the object

that fell on him, and suddenly he

was wide awake, not a trace of

drowsiness in his mind.

Good morning, brother,

an annoyingly cheerful voice sounded right

on top of him.

Morning, morning, morning.

Zorian glared at his little sister,

but she just smiled

back at him cheekily,

still sprawled across his stomach.

She was humming to herself in obvious

satisfaction,

kicking her feet playfully in

the air as she studied the giant world map

Zorian had tacked to the wall next to

his bed.

Or rather, pretended to study.

Zorian could see her watching him

intently out of the corner of her eyes for

a reaction.

This was what he got for not arcane

locking the door and setting up a basic

alarm perimeter around his bed.

Get off,

he told her in the calmest voice he could

muster. Mom said to wake you up, she said

matter-of-factly,

not budging from her spot.

Not like this she didn't, Zorian grumbled,

swallowing his irritation

and patiently waiting till she dropped her

guard.

Predictably,

Kiriel grew visibly agitated after only a

few moments of this

pretended disinterest.

Just before she could blow up,

Zorian quickly grasped her legs

and chest and

flipped her over the edge of the bed.

She fell to the floor with a thud

and an indignant yelp, and Zorian

quickly jumped to his feet to better

respond to any violence she might decide

to

retaliate with.

He glanced down at her

and sniffed disdainfully.

I'll be sure to remember this the next

time I'm asked to wake you up.

Fat chance of that,

she retorted defiantly.

You always sleep longer than I do.

Zorian simply sighed in

defeat. Damn the little imp, but she

was right about that.

So,

she began excitedly jumping to her feet.

Are you excited?

Zorian watched her for a moment as she

bounced around his room like a monkey on

caffeine.

Sometimes he wished he had some of

that boundless energy of hers.

But only some. About what? Zorian asked

innocently, feigning ignorance.

He knew what she meant, of course,

but constantly asking obvious questions

was the

fastest way of frustrating his little

sister into dropping a conversation he'd

rather not have.

Going back to the academy, she whined,

clearly aware of what he was doing.

He needed to learn some new tricks.

Learning magic.

Can you show me some magic?

Zorian let out a long-suffering sigh.

Kiriel had always treated him as something

of a playmate of hers, despite him doing

his best not to encourage her,

but usually she remained within certain

unspoken boundaries.

She was downright impossible this year,

though, and Mother was wholly

unsympathetic to his pleas to rein her in.

All he did was read all day long,

she said, so it wasn't as if he was doing

anything important.

Thankfully, the summer break was over,

and he could finally get away from the

mall.

Carrie, I have to pack.

Why don't you go pester Fortov for a

change?

She scowled at him unhappily for a second,

and then perked up, as if remembering

something,

and quickly ran out of the room.

Zorian's eyes widened

when he realized what she

was up to a second too late.

No, he yelled as he ran after her,

only to have the bathroom door

slammed in his face.

He pounded on the door in frustration.

Damn it, Carrie,

you had all the time in the world to go to

the bathroom before I

woke up.

Sucks to be you, was her only answer.

After hurling a few choice curses at the

door, Zorian stomped off back to his room

to get dressed.

She would be inside for ages, he was sure,

if

only to spite him.

Quickly changing out of his pajamas

and putting on his glasses, Zorian took a

moment to look around his room.

He was pleased to note Kiriel hadn't

rummaged through his stuff before waking

him

up.

She had a very fuzzy notion of other

people's privacy.

It didn't take Zorian long to pack.

He had never really unpacked,

to be honest, and would have gone back to

Sioria a week ago if he thought Mother

would have allowed it.

He was just packing his school supplies

when he realized with irritation that some

of his textbooks were missing.

He could try a locator spell, but he

was pretty sure he knew where they had

ended

up.

Kiriel had a habit of taking them to her

room, no matter how many times

Zorian told her to keep her sticky little

fingers away from them.

Working on a hunch,

he double-checked his writing supplies

and, sure enough,

found they had been greatly depleted.

It always happened.

Every time he came home,

Kiriel would raid his school

supplies.

Putting aside the ethical problems

inherent in breaking into your brother's

room in

order to steal his things,

what on earth was she doing with all those

pencils and erasers?

This time he specifically brought extras

with his sister in mind, but it

still wasn't enough.

He couldn't find a single eraser in his

drawer,

and he bought a whole packet of them

before coming home.

Why Kiriel couldn't simply ask Mother to

buy her some books and pens of her own

was never really clear to Zorian.

She was the youngest

and the only daughter, so Mother

was always happy to spoil

her.

The dolls she talked Mother into buying

her were five times more expensive than a

couple of books and a stack of pencils.

In any case,

while Zorian had no delusions about ever

seeing his writing

supplies again,

he really needed those textbooks.

With that in mind,

he marched off to his sister's room,

ignoring the keep out

warning on the door,

and quickly found his missing books in

their usual

location,

cunningly hidden under the bed behind

several

conveniently placed stuffed animals.

His packing done,

he went downstairs to eat something

and see what Mother wanted

from him.

Though his family thought he simply liked

to sleep in,

Zorian actually had a reason for being a

late riser.

It meant he could eat his food in peace,

as everyone else had already had their

breakfast by then.

Few things annoyed him more than someone

trying to strike up a conversation while

he was eating, and that

was precisely the time

when the rest of his family was the

most talkative. Unfortunately,

Mother wasn't willing to wait for him

today,

and immediately descended upon him

when she saw him coming down.

He didn't even finish his descent down the

stairs, and she had already found

something about him she didn't like.

"You don't really intend to go out looking

like that, do you?" she asked.

"What's wrong with this?" asked Zorian.

He was wearing a plain brown outfit little

different from the ones other boys wore

when they were going into the city.

It seemed just fine to him.

"You can't go out looking like that," his

mother said with a long-suffering sigh.

"What do you think people will say

when they see you wearing that?"

"Nothing," Zorian tried. "Zorian,

don't be so

difficult," she snapped at him.

"Our family is one of the pillars of this

town.

We're under scrutiny every time we leave

the house.

I know you don't care about such things,

but appearances are important to a lot of

people.

You need to realize you're not an island,

and you can't decide things as

if you were alone in the world.

You are a member of this family,

and your actions inevitably reflect on our

reputation.

I will not let you embarrass me by looking

like a common

factory worker. Go back to your room

and put on some proper attire."

Zorian restrained himself from rolling his

eyes just long enough to turn his back

on her.

Maybe her guilt trip would have been more

effective if this was the first time she

tried it on him.

Still, it wasn't worth the argument,

so he changed into a pricier set of

clothes.

It was totally excessive considering he'd

be spending the whole day on the train,

but his moth-

mother nodded approvingly

when she saw him coming down the

stairs. She had him turn

and pose like a show animal for

a while before pronouncing him fairly

decent.

He went to the kitchen and,

to his annoyance,

Mother followed after him.

No eating in peace today, it seemed.

Father was thankfully on one of his

business trips,

so he wouldn't have to deal

with him today.

He entered the kitchen and frowned

when he saw a bowl of porridge already

waiting

for him on the table.

Usually, he made his own breakfast,

and he liked it that way, but he knew

his mother never accepted that. This

was her idea of a peace gesture,

which meant she was going to ask something

of him he wouldn't like.

"I figured I'd prepare something for you

today, and I know you've always liked

porridge," she said.

Zorian refrained from mentioning he hadn't

liked it since he was about eight.

"You slept longer than I thought you

would, though.

It's gone cold while I've waited for you."

Zorian rolled his eyes

and cast a slightly modified heat water

spell on the

porridge,

which was instantly returned to a pleasant

temperature.

He ate his breakfast in silence

while Mother talked to him at length about

a

crop-related dispute one of their

suppliers was involved in, dancing

around whatever topic she wanted to

broach.

He effortlessly tuned her out. It

was practically a survival skill for

every child in the Kozinski family,

as both Mother and Father were prone to

protracted lectures on every subject

imaginable, but doubly so for

Zorian,

who was the black sheep of the family

and thus subjected to

such monologues more frequently than the

rest.

Thankfully,

his mother thought nothing of his silence,

because Zorian was always as

silent as possible around his family.

He had learned many years ago

that this was the easiest way of getting

along with

them.

"Mother," he interrupted her,

"I just woke up via Kyrie jumping on

me.

I haven't had a chance to go to the

bathroom,

and now you're pestering me while

I'm eating. Either get to the point

or wait a couple of minutes while I finish

breakfast." "She did it again?" his mother

asked,

amusement obvious in her voice.

Zorian rubbed his eyes,

not saying anything,

before surreptitiously pocketing an

apple from the bowl on the table

while his mother wasn't looking.

There were a lot of annoying things Kyriel

did again and again, but

complaining about it to Mother

was a waste of time.

No one in this family was on his side.

"Oh, don't be like that," his mother said,

noticing his less-than-pleased reaction.

"She's just bored and playing with you.

You take things way too seriously,

just like your father." "I am nothing like

my father," Zorian insisted,

raising his voice and glaring at

her.

This was why he hated eating with other

people.

He returned to his breakfast with renewed

vigor, eager to finish this as soon as

possible.

"Of course you're not," Mother said airily

before

suddenly switching the subject. "Actually,

this reminds me of something.

Your father and I

are going to Koth to visit Damien."

Zorian bit the spoon in his mouth to

prevent himself from making a snide

comment.

It was always Damien this and Damien that.

There were days when Zorian wondered why

his parents had three other children when

they were clearly so enamored of their

eldest son.

Really,

going to another continent just to visit

him?

What, were they going to die

if they didn't see him for a year?

"What's that got to do with me?" Zorian

asked.

"It will be an extended visit," she said.

"We'll be there for about six months,

most of it spent traveling from one place

to

another.

You and Fortov will be at the Academy,

of course, but I'm

worried about Kyriel. She's only nine,

and I don't feel comfortable bringing her

along with us."

Zorian paled,

finally catching on to what she wanted of

him.

Hell no.

"Mother, I'm fifteen," he protested.

"So?" she asked. "Your father and I

were already married when we

were your age."

"Times change. Besides,

I spend most of the day at the Academy,"

Zorian

responded.

"Why don't you ask Fortov to take care of

her?

He's a year older,

and he has his own apartment."

"Fortov is in his fourth year," his mother

said sternly.

"He's going to graduate this year,

so he has to focus on his grades."

"You mean he said no," Zorian concluded

out loud.

"And besides," she continued,

ignoring his remark,

"I'm sure you're aware

of how irresponsible Fortov can be at

times.

I don't think he's fit to raise a little

girl." "And whose fault is that?"

Zorian grumbled quietly,

loudly dropping his spoon

and pushing the plate away

from him.

Maybe Fortov was irresponsible because he

knew Mother and Father would simply

dump his responsibilities onto Zorian

if he just played dumb long enough.

Didn't that ever occur to her?

Why did it always fall to him to deal with

this

little imp?

Well,

he wasn't going to get saddled with this.

If Fortov was too good to take care of

Kyriel, then so was Zorian.

Plus,

the little tattletale would undoubtedly

report everything he did back to

Mother without a second thought.

The best thing about attending a school so

far from home was that he could do

whatever he wanted with his family being

none the wiser, and there was no

way he was going to give that up.

Really,

this was just a transparent ploy by his

mother to spy on him

so she could lecture him some more about

family pride and proper manners.

I don't think I'm fit for that either,

continued Zorian a little louder.

You said only a few minutes ago

that I'm an embarrassment to the family.

We wouldn't want to corrupt a little Kyrie

with my uncaring attitude, now would we?

I didn't know, Zorian shouted.

Oh, have it your way,

she huffed in resignation.

But really, I wasn't suggesting What

are you talking about?

Kyriel called out from behind him.

We were discussing what a rotten brat you

are, Zorian shot back immediately.

No, you weren't.

Zorian just rolled his eyes

and rose from his seat,

intending to go to the

bathroom,

only to find an irate little sister

blocking his path.

There was a knock at the door.

I'll get it, said Zorian quickly,

knowing that

Mother would demand

that one of them open the door, and

that Kyriel wouldn't budge

from her spot anytime soon.

She could be very stubborn when she

wanted.

That was how Zorian found himself staring

at a

bespectacled woman dressed in

expensive-looking khaki-colored clothes

and

cradling a thick book in her arm.

The woman gave an appraising glance,

adjusting her glasses.

Zorian Kazinski?

Uh, yeah, he said,

unsure how to react to this development.

I am Ilsa Ziletti from Sioria's Royal

Academy of Magic Arts.

I'm here to discuss the results of your

certification.

Color drained from Zorian's face.

They sent an actual mage to talk to him?

What did he do to warrant this? Mother

was going to skin him alive.

You aren't in trouble, Mr. Kazinski,

she said, smiling in amusement.

The Academy has a habit of sending a

representative to third-year students to

discuss various matters of interest.

I confess I should have visited you

sooner,

but I have been a tad busy this year.

You have my apologies.

Zorian stared at her for a few seconds.

May I come in? Huh? Oh, said Zorian.

Forgive my manners, Miss Ziletti. Come in,

come in.

Thank you, she accepted politely,

stepping into the house.

After a quick introduction to his mother

and sister, Ilsa asked him if he

had somewhere they could discuss school

matters privately.

Mother quickly decided she had to go to

town market and took Kyriel with her,

leaving him alone in the house with the

mage,

who promptly scattered various papers

across the kitchen desk.

So, Zorian, she began.

You already know you passed the

certification.

Yes, I got the written notice,

Zorian said.

Sirin doesn't have a mage tower, so I

was going to pick up the badge when I got

back to Sioria.

Ilsa simply handed him a sealed scroll.

Zorian inspected the scroll for a few

seconds and then tried to break the seal

so he could read it.

Unfortunately, the seal

was quite tough to break. Unnaturally so,

even.

He frowned.

Ilsa wouldn't have given him the scroll

like this if she didn't think

he had the ability to open it.

A test of some sort?

He wasn't anyone terribly special,

so this would have to be something pretty

easy.

What skill did every recently minted mage

possess that would

Oh. He almost rolled his eyes

when he realized what this was all

about.

He channeled some mana into the seal

and it promptly snapped

itself in half,

allowing Zorian to finally unroll the

scroll.

It was written in very neat calligraphy

and appeared to be some kind of proof of

his identity as a first circle mage.

He glanced back at Ilsa,

who nodded approvingly,

confirming to Zorian that he had

just passed a test of some sort.

You don't really have to pick up your

badge until you finish school, she said.

The badge is pretty expensive,

and nobody is really going to bother you

about it

unless you plan to open a shop

or otherwise sell your magical

expertise.

If they do bother you for whatever reason,

just

refer to them to the Academy

and we'll clear things up.

Zorian shrugged.

While he did intend to break away from his

family,

he'd prefer to wait until graduation,

and that was two years away.

He motioned on for her to continue.

Very well then.

The records say you lived in Academy

housing for the

past two years.

I assume you intend to continue?

Zorian nodded,

and she reached into one of her pockets

and handed him a rather

strange key.

Zorian knew how locks in general worked,

and could even pick simpler ones

with enough time,

but he couldn't figure out how this key

was supposed to work.

It had no teeth to fit into the tumblers

inside the lock.

On a hunch,

he channeled some mana into it,

and faint golden lines immediately

lit across the surface of the metal.

He looked at Ilsa in silent question.

Housing for third years works differently

than you are used to, she told him.

As you're likely aware, now that you

are a certified first circle mage, the

Academy is authorized to teach you spells

of the first circle and above.

Since you'll be handling sensitive

material, greater security is required,

so you'll be moving into a different

building.

The lock on your door

is keyed to your mana,

so you'll have to channel some of your

personal mana into the key like you did

just now before it will unlock.

Ah, said Zorian. Idly,

he spun the key in his hand, wondering how

exactly they got a hold of his mana

signature.

Something to research later, he supposed.

Normally,

I would be explaining to you in detail

what it means to be a third year

student at Siora's Magical Academy,

but I hear you have a train leaving soon,

so why don't we jump straight to the main

reason I'm here.

Your mentor and electives.

You can ask me anything you wish to know

afterwards.

Zorian perked up at this,

especially the mention of mentor.

Each third year was given a mentor

that they met with once a week, who was

supposed to teach students in ways not

possible in a standard class format,

and otherwise help them reach their

maximum potential.

A choice of one's mentor could make

or break one's magical career, and

Zorian knew he had to choose carefully.

Fortunately,

he had asked around among the older

students to find out which ones

were good and which ones were bad,

so he figured he would at least be able to

get

an above-average one.

"'So which mentors can I choose from?'

Zorian asked.

"'Well, actually,

I'm afraid you can't,' Ilsa said

apologetically.

"'Like I said,

I was supposed to get to you sooner.

Unfortunately, all

but one of the mentors have filled their

quota of students at

this point.'

Zorian had a bad feeling about this.

"'And this mentor is...

Zvim Chao.'

Zorian groaned,

burying his face in his hands.

Of all the teachers, Zvim

was widely agreed upon as the

worst mentor you could possibly get.

It just had to be him, didn't it?

"'It's not that bad,' Ilsa assured him.

"'The rumors are mostly exaggerated,

and mostly spread by students unwilling to

do

the kind of work Professor Zvim requires

of his charges.

I'm sure a talented,

hard-working student such as yourself will

have no problems

with him.'

Zorian snorted.

"'I don't suppose there's any chance to

transfer to another mentor, is there?'

"'Not really.

We've had a very good pass rate last year,

and all of the mentors are

swamped with the students as it is.

Professor Zvim is the least burdened of

the available mentors.'

"'My, I wonder why,' Zorian mumbled.

"'All right, fine. What about electives?'

Ilsa handed him another scroll,

this one unsealed,

containing a list of all

elective classes offered by the Academy.

It was long.

Very long.

You could sign up for practically

anything, even

things that weren't of strictly magical

nature.

Things like advanced mathematics,

classical literature, and architecture.

It was to be expected, really,

since Ecosian magical tradition had always

been inextricably connected to other

intellectual pursuits.

"'You can choose up to five,

but no less than three electives this

year.

It would be a lot more convenient for us

if you did it now, so that we can finalize

the schedules over the weekend before the

classes start.

Don't be too intimidated by the sheer size

of the list.

Even if you choose something

that doesn't appeal to you,

you can switch to a

different elective during the first month

of school.'

Zorian frowned. There

were a lot of electives,

and he wasn't quite sure which

ones he wanted to take.

He had already gotten shafted in the

mentor department,

so he really couldn't afford to screw up

here. This would take a while.

"'Please don't take this the wrong way,

Miss Ziletti, but would you mind

if we take

a short break before we go any further

with this?'

"'Of course not,' she said.

"'Is something the matter?'

"'Not at all,' assured Zorian.

"'It's just that I really need to go to

the

bathroom.'

Probably not the best way to make a first

impression.

Curiel was so going to pay for putting him

in this position.

Zorian trailed after his family in silence

as they entered Seren's train station,

ignoring Fortov's exuberant greeting of

some friends of his.

He scanned the crowd on the train station

for any familiar faces, but

predictably came out empty.

He didn't really know all

that many people in his hometown,

as his parents loved

reminding him.

He felt his mother's gaze on him as he

unsuccessfully

searched for an empty bench,

but refused to look back at her.

She would take that as permission to

initiate conversation, and he already

knew what she would say.

"'Why don't you join Fortov

and his friends,

Zorian?' "'Because they're immature

jackasses, just like Fortov, that's why.'

He sighed,

looking at the empty train tracks with

annoyance.

The train was late.

He didn't mind waiting as such,

but waiting in crowds was pure

torture.

His family would never understand,

but Zorian

hated crowds.

It wasn't any tangible thing, really.

It was more like large gatherings of

people projected some kind of presence

that

weighed down on him constantly.

Most of the time it was annoying,

though it did have its uses.

His parents stopped taking him to church

when they realized that dragging him into

a small hall packed with people resulted

in vertigo and fainting in a matter of

minutes.

Fortunately,

the train station wasn't currently crowded

enough to produce such

intense effects,

but Zorian knew prolonged exposure would

take

its toll.

He hoped the train wouldn't take too long,

because he didn't relish spending the

rest of the day with a headache.

Fortov's loud laughter broke him out of

such gloomy musings.

His older brother didn't have such

problems, that's for sure.

Like always, he was cheerful, sociable,

and had a smile that could light up the

world.

The people he was surrounded with

were clearly enthralled with him,

and he stood

out among them at first glance despite

having the same thin build

that Zorian did.

He just had that kind of presence around

him.

He was like Damien in this way,

only Damien had actual skills to back

up his charm.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

Zorian didn't know for sure how Fortov

had been accepted into a supposedly elite

institution like Sioria's Magical

Academy,

but he strongly suspected Father had

greased a few palms to

get Fortov in.

It wasn't that Fortov was stupid,

so much as lazy and completely

unable to focus on a task,

no matter how critical.

Not that most people knew that, of course.

The boy was charming as hell,

and very adept in sweeping his

inadequacies

under the metaphorical rug.

His father always joked

that Fortov and Zorian each got half of

Damien in them.

Fortov got his charm,

and Zorian his competence.

Zorian had never liked his father's sense

of humor.

A whistle pierced the air,

and the train entered the station with a

high-pitched

squeal of metal wheels breaking against

the tracks.

The original trains

were steam-powered machines

that billowed smoke wherever they

went and consumed unholy amounts of coal

to keep going, but this

one was powered by the newer techno-magic

engines that consumed crystallized

mana instead.

Cleaner, cheaper,

and required less maintenance.

Zorian could actually feel the mana

radiating off the train as he approached,

though his ability to sense magic

was too underdeveloped to tell him any

details.

He had always wanted to look around the

engine room of one of these things, but

could never figure out a good way to

approach the train operators.

But that was a thought for another time.

He gave a brief goodbye to Mother

and Curiel and entered the train to find

himself a seat.

He intentionally chose an empty

compartment, something

that was surprisingly easy to find.

Apparently, despite the gathered crowd,

few of them would be taking this

particular

train.

Five minutes later,

the train gave another ear-splitting

whistle and began its long

journey towards Sioria.

There was a sharp crackling sound,

followed by the sound of a bell ringing.

Now stopping in Corsa,

a disembodied voice echoed.

A crackling sound again. I repeat,

now stopping in Corsa.

Thank you.

The speakers crackled one last time before

turning silent.

Zorian released a long sigh of irritation

and opened his eyes.

He hated trains. The boredom, the heat,

and the rhythmic thumping

sounds all conspired to make him sleepy.

But every time he finally drifted off to

sleep, he was rudely awoken by the station

announcer.

That this was the very purpose of

that announcer, to wake up passengers

who would sleep through their destination,

was not lost on Zorian,

but it was no less annoying because of it.

He looked through the window,

only to see a train station like any

other.

In fact,

it was completely identical to the

previous five, down to the blue

outline on the big white tablet saying

Corsa.

Apparently, the station builders

were working off some kind of template

these days.

Looking at the station platform they

were stopping at,

he could see a large crowd

of people waiting to get on the train.

Corsa was a major trading hub,

and a lot of newly minted merchant

families lived

here,

sending their children to Sioria's

prestigious academy to become

mages and mingle among children of other

influential people.

Zorian found himself wishing

that none of his fellow students join him

in his

compartment, but he knew it

was an idle dream.

There were too many of them,

and his compartment

was completely empty aside from

him.

He did all he could to make himself

comfortable in his seat

and closed his eyes

again.

The first person to join him in his

compartment was a chubby,

glasses-wearing girl

in a green turtleneck.

She gave him a cursory glance

and started reading

a book in silence.

Zorian would have been ecstatic about such

an agreeable traveling companion,

but soon enough a group of four other

girls came in and took the remaining four

seats for themselves.

The newcomers were very loud

and prone to giggling fits, and Zorian

was sorely tempted to get up

and find himself a new compartment to

occupy.

He spent the rest of the trip alternating

between looking through the window at the

endless fields they were passing

and exchanging annoyed glances with

the green turtleneck girl,

who seemed similarly irritated by the

other girls' antics.

He knew they were getting close to Sioria

when he could see trees on the

horizon.

There was only one city on this route

that was this close to the

Great Northern Forest,

and the trains otherwise avoided getting

close to

so infamous a place.

Zorian picked up his bag

and went to stand by the exit.

The idea was to be among the first to

disembark, and thus avoid the

usual crowding that always occurred once

they got to Sioria, but he was

too late.

There was already a crowd at the exit

when he approached.

He leaned on a nearby window and waited,

listening to animated conversation

between three first-year students beside

him, who were talking excitedly amongst

themselves about how they

were going to start learning magic

and whatnot.

Boy, were they going to be disappointed.

The first year was all theory,

meditation exercises, and learning how to

access your mana consistently.

Hey you, you're one of the upperclassmen,

aren't you?

Zorian looked at the girl talking to him

and suppressed a groan of irritation.

He so did not want to talk to these

people.

He had been in the train since early

morning,

Mother had given him a nasty lecture

because he hadn't offered Ilsa something

to drink while she was in the house, and

he was in no mood for anything.

I suppose you could describe me as such,

he said cautiously.

Can you show us any magic?

she asked eagerly.

No, said Zorian flatly.

He wasn't even lying.

The train is worded to disrupt mana

shaping.

They had problems with people starting

fires and vandalizing compartments.

Oh, the girl said, clearly disappointed.

She frowned,

like trying to figure something out.

Mana shaping? she asked curiously.

Zorian raised an eyebrow.

You don't know what mana is?

She was first year, yes, but that

was elementary.

Anyone who went through elementary school

should know at least that much.

Magic? she tried lamely. Ugh, grunted

Zorian.

The teachers would so fail you for that.

No, it's not magic.

It's what powers magic.

The energy, the power

that a mage shapes into a magical effect.

You'll learn more about it in lectures,

I guess.

Bottom point is, no mana, no magic.

And I can't use any mana at the moment.

This was misleading, but whatever.

There was no way he

was explaining things to some random

stranger, especially

since she should already know this stuff.

Um, okay.

Sorry to bother you, then.

With a lot of squealing and steam

letting,

the train stopped at Sioria's train

station, and Zorian

disembarked as fast as he could,

pushing past the odd first years staring

at

the sight before them.

Sioria's train station was huge,

a fact made obvious by the fact that

it was enclosed,

making it look more like a gigantic

tunnel.

Actually, the station as a whole

was even larger, because there

were four more

tunnels like this one,

plus all the support facilities.

There was nothing like it anywhere in the

world, and virtually everyone was

stupefied the first time they saw it.

Zorian was, too,

when he first disembarked here.

The feeling of disorientation

was amplified by the sheer number of

people that went

through this terminal, whether they

were passengers going in

and out of Sioria,

workers inspecting the train

and unloading baggage, newsboys

shouting headlines,

or homeless people begging for some

change.

As far as he knew,

this massive flow of people never really

ceased, even at

night,

and this was a particularly busy day.

He looked at the giant clock hanging from

the ceiling, and finding out he had

plenty of time,

bought himself some bread from the nearby

bakery and then set

course for Sioria's central plaza,

intending to eat his newly

acquired food while sitting on the edge of

the fountain there.

It was a nice place to relax.

Sioria was a curious city. It

was one of the most developed and

largest cities in the world, which

was at first glance strange,

as Sioria was dangerously close to

monster-infested wilderness

and wasn't in a favorable trade location.

What really catapulted it to prominence

was the massive circular hole on the west

side of the city,

probably the most obvious dungeon entrance

ever,

and the only rank 9 mana well known to

exist.

The absolutely massive quantities of mana

gushing out from the

underworld had made the spot an

irresistible magnet for mages.

The presence of such a huge number of

mages made Sioria unlike any

other city on the continent,

both in the culture of the people living

there

and, more obviously,

in the architecture of the city itself.

A lot of things that would be too

impractical to build elsewhere

were routinely

done here,

and it made for an inspiring sight

if you could find a good spot

to watch the city from.

He froze in his tracks

when he noticed a swarm of rats staring at

him from the

bottom of the stairway he

was about to descend.

Their behavior was strange enough,

but his heartbeat really sped up

when he took

notice of their heads. Was that

Were their brains

exposed?

He swallowed heavily and took a step back,

slowly retreating from the stairwell

before turning around

and fleeing in a full sprint.

He wasn't sure what they were,

but those were definitely not normal

rats.

He supposed he shouldn't be so shocked,

though.

A place like Sioria attracted more than

mages.

Magical creatures of all breeds found such

places just as

irresistible.

He was just glad the rats didn't pursue

him,

because he had nothing in the way of

combat spells.

The only spell he knew

that could be used in a situation like

this was the Spook

Animals spell,

and he had no idea how effective

that would have been

against such clearly magical creatures.

Somewhat shaken,

but still determined to get to the

fountain, he tried to circle

the rat gathering by going through the

nearby park, but luck just wasn't

on his side today.

He promptly ran into a little girl crying

her eyes out on the bridge he had to

cross,

and it took him five minutes just to get

her to calm down enough to find

out what happened.

He supposed he could have just pushed past

her and left her there to cry, but not

even he was that cold-hearted.

The bike, she blurted out finally,

hiccuping heavily.

It fell in, she wailed.

Zorian blinked,

trying to interpret what she

was trying to tell him.

Apparently realizing she wasn't making any

sense, the girl pointed towards the

creek running underneath the bridge.

Zorian looked over the edge of the bridge,

and sure enough, there was a children's

bicycle half-submerged in the muddy

waters.

Huh, Zorian said. Wonder how

that happened.

It fell in, the girl repeated,

looking as if she was going to cry again.

All right, all right,

no need for waterworks. I'll get it out,

okay?

Zorian said,

eyeing the bicycle speculatively.

You'll get dirty, she warned quietly.

Zorian could tell from her tone of voice

that she hoped he would get it out anyway.

Don't worry,

I have no intention of wading through

that mud, Zorian said.

Watch.

He made a few gestures

and cast a levitate object spell,

causing the bike to jerkily rise out of

the water and into the air.

The bike was a lot heavier than the

objects he usually practiced with, and he

had to levitate the bike a lot higher than

he was used to, but it was

nothing outside his capabilities.

He snatched the bike by its seat

when it was close enough

and placed it on the

bridge.

There, Zorian said. It's all muddy

and wet, but I can't help you there.

Don't know any cleaning spells.

Okay, she nodded slowly,

clutching her bicycle like it

was going to fly out of her

hand the moment she let go.

He bid her goodbye and left,

deciding his relaxing time at the fountain

just wasn't

meant to be.

The weather seemed to be worsening pretty

quickly, too.

Dark clouds were brewing ominously across

the horizon, heralding rain.

He decided to simply join the diffuse line

of students trudging towards the academy

and be done with it.

It was a long way from the train station

to the academy, since the station was on

the outskirts of the city

and the academy was right next to the

hole.

Depending on how physically fit you were,

and how much luggage you had to drag

around, you could get there in an hour

or two.

Zorian wasn't particularly fit,

what with his skinny physique and shut-in

ways,

but he had purposely packed light in

anticipation of this

journey.

He joined the procession of students

that was still streaming from the train

station in the direction of the academy,

ignoring the occasional first

year struggling with excessive baggage.

He empathized with them,

because his asshole brothers didn't warn

him to keep the

luggage at a minimum either, and he

was like them the first time he arrived at

the

train station,

but there was nothing he could do to help

them.

The threat of rain and bad luck aside,

he felt invigorated as he drew closer to

the academy grounds.

He was drawing on the ambient mana

suffusing the area around the hole,

replenishing the mana reserves he spent

levitating that girl's bicycle.

Mage academies are almost always built on

top of mana wells for the

express purpose of exploiting this effect.

An area with such high ambient mana levels

is a perfect place for

inexperienced mages to practice their

spellcasting, since any

time they run out of mana,

they can supplement their natural mana

regeneration

by replenishing their mana reserves from

their very surroundings.

Zorian took out the apple he still carried

in his pocket and levitated it over

his palm.

It wasn't really a spell,

so much as raw mana manipulation, a

mana-shaping exercise that

was supposed to help mages improve their

ability to

control and direct magical energies.

It looked like such a simple thing,

but it took Zorian two years before he

mastered it fully.

Sometimes he wondered if his family

was right and he really

was too focused on his

studies. He knew for a fact

that most of his classmates had much more

tenuous control over their magic,

and it didn't appear to be inhibiting them

too much.

He dismissed the mana construct holding

the apple in the air and let it fall down

onto his palm.

He wished he had some kind of rain

protection spell.

The first drops of rain

were already starting to fall.

That or an umbrella.

Either would work just fine, except an

umbrella didn't require several years of

training to use.

Magic can be such a rip-off at times,

said Zorian gloomily.

He took a deep breath and started running.

Huh, so there is a rain protection spell,

mumbled Zorian as he watched

raindrops splattering on an invisible

barrier in front of him.

He extended his hand over the edge of the

barrier, and it passed unimpeded.

He withdrew his suddenly rather wet hand

into the safety of the barrier

and followed the boundary as far as his

eyes could see.

From what he could tell,

the barrier encircled the entire academy

compound,

no small feat as academy grounds

were quite extensive, in a

protective bubble that stopped the rain,

and only rain, from

penetrating it.

Apparently the academy upgraded its wards

again, because they didn't have this

feature the last time it was raining.

Shrugging, he turned around

and continued towards the administration

building of

the academy.

It was too bad the barrier didn't also dry

you out when you

passed it, because he was soaking wet.

Thankfully, his bag was waterproof,

so his clothes and textbooks weren't in

any

danger of getting ruined.

Slowing down to a leisurely stroll,

he studied the collection of buildings

that

made up the academy.

The wards weren't the only thing that

was upgraded.

The whole place looked prettified,

for lack of a better term.

Every building was freshly painted,

the old brick road was replaced by a

much more colorful one,

the flower patches were in full bloom, and

the small fountain

that hadn't worked for years

was suddenly functional.

Wonder what that's all about, he mumbled.

After a few minutes of contemplation,

he decided he didn't care much.

He would find out sooner or later

if it was of any importance.

The administration building was,

predictably, mostly empty of students.

Most of them took shelter from the rain

instead of pressing on like Zorian, and

those that didn't often didn't live on

academy grounds and thus had no reason

to come here today.

That was perfect as far as Zorian

was concerned,

as it meant he could be done here

quickly.

Quickly turned out to be a relative term.

It took two hours of wrangling with the

girl working at the administration desk

before he had taken care of all the

necessary paperwork.

He asked about his class schedule, but

was told it wasn't finalized yet and

that he would have to wait until Monday

morning.

Come to think of it,

Ilsa had mentioned the same thing.

Before he left,

the girl gave him a book of rules with

which third-year students

were expected to familiarize themselves

before sending him on his way.

Zorian idly flipped through the rulebook

while he searched for room 115

before putting it into one of the more

obscure compartments in his backpack,

never to be looked at again.

Academy-provided housing

was pretty terrible,

and Zorian had had very

unpleasant experiences with it, but it

was free, and apartment

space was severely overpriced in Seoria.

Even children of nobles often lived on

academy grounds rather than in their own

apartments, so who was he to complain?

Besides,

living so close to the lecture hall cut

down on the travel time each

morning and put him close to the biggest

library in the city, so there were

definitely good sides to it.

An hour later,

he smiled to himself as he entered a

fairly spacious room.

He was even more pleased

when he realized he had his own bathroom.

With a shower stall, no less.

It was a welcome change from having to

share a cramped little room with an

inconsiderate roommate

and sharing a single communal bathroom

with the whole floor.

As far as furniture went,

the room had a bed, a closet, a set of

drawers, a work desk, and a chair.

Everything Zorian needed, really.

Dropping his luggage on the floor,

Zorian changed out of his wet clothes

before

collapsing on the bed with relief.

He had two whole days before the classes

started, so he decided to

postpone unpacking until tomorrow.

Instead,

he remained motionless on the bed,

wondering for a moment why he couldn't

hear the raindrops hitting the glass pane

of the window next to his bed before

remembering the rain barrier.

I've got to learn how to cast that,

he mumbled.

His spell collection

was extremely limited at the moment,

consisting of about 20

simple spells,

but he had plans to rectify

that this year.

As a certified first-circle mage,

he had access to parts of the academy

library he didn't before,

and he planned on raiding them for spells

contained within.

Besides, this year's classes

were supposed to be much more focused on

practical

spellcasting now

that they'd proven themselves capable,

so he should be learning

plenty of interesting things in classes,

too.

Tired from the long journey,

Zorian closed his eyes,

intending to take a short

nap.

He wouldn't wake up until tomorrow

morning.