The Distant Trail Of Ciara Badvia

The Saria Magic Academy
Part 3: The Eccentric Faculty Member

A CHAOTIC LAB

The first bell in the morning rang at eight o’clock—that signaled it was time to prepare for the day ahead. The second bell was at nine, marking the actual start of classes. Leaving at first bell would in reality be too early, but Misty had advised Tyril that it would be better to do just that for today.

About a five-minute walk from the student dormitory was the Second Research Building. On its second floor was Professor Forster’s laboratory.

“I have to go to the Third Research Building, so we’ll have to part ways here. I’ll probably be back before you are, so I’ll make… Nah, that’s not possible. I’ll buy you something.”

Misty lightly waved her hand goodbye. Once again, Tyril thanked her for her guidance and for teaching her various things, but she got admonished half-jokingly for it.

“We’re roommates; we’re practically family,” Misty replied, looking at Tyril playfully. “You don’t need to thank me for every little thing.”

She wiggled her fingers in a wave again and turned on her heel. Although Misty likely wasn’t happy about being thanked, Tyril still couldn’t help herself.

*****

Tyril climbed the stairs and followed the second-floor corridor.

The Second Research Building was a wooden building; it was old and dusty and smelled faintly musty. It wasn’t unpleasant by any means, but it made Tyril uncomfortable regardless.

Wooden doors lined the corridor, each with a nameplate etched with a name. For some rooms, that was all, while other rooms had desks or shelves inside. There were also rooms with a variety of valuable books or tableware haphazardly tossed in them.

The name Tyril was searching for and which Misty had given her was difficult to find. She at last found it at a door at the end of the corridor. Beside it was a bookshelf, stacked with such an impressive number of books that it was already bending under the weight. She peeked at the spines and saw complicated titles—A New Comprehensive Guide to Magical Studies, Investigations on the Existence of Spirits, From Hars to Spirituality—arranged in a jumbled way.

What kind of person is the owner of these books? Her heart raced. As she stood in front of the door, she clenched her right fist against her chest. Dithering briefly, Tyril eventually raised that fist and gently knocked twice.

“Please come in,” came from a hoarse and quiet voice more than five seconds later.

Tyril turned the doorknob, slowly and cautiously. As the door swung open, she was surprised.

Books were spread carelessly all over the floor, each one appearing well-crafted and of substantial value. Beyond the chaotic mess of literature was a desk, an elderly man with a shaved head and a long face sitting behind it and working with multiple open books laid out in front of him.

Tyril couldn’t tell if he’d even glanced at her direction. He hadn’t looked up, at the very least, so she wasn’t able to clearly see his face.

“What do you want?” the old man asked, short and to the point.

“Ah, I…” This time, she put both her fists in front of her chest and suppressed the trembling in her voice. To say she wasn’t feeling afraid would be a lie.

The old man spoke up again as if to intimidate Tyril further. “I’m busy as well. State your business and be quick about it.”

“Well… I’m looking for someone to mentor under and, er, my roommate suggested that it might be a good idea to study under a certain Professor Forster. So, that’s why I’m here. Are you, um, Professor Forster, by any chance?”

Tyril regretted letting her nervousness get the better of her and making her stammer. In response, the old man lifted his head for the first time and gave her a critical gaze.

“I am Forster, yes. But it’s impolite to ask for someone’s name without offering your own.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Tyril. Tyril Zeeland.”

Forster’s gaze immediately returned to his work. He sighed. “The selection and registration of mentorships should have been closed long ago. What have you been doing all this time?”

Though his words were directed at Tyril, it seemed more like he was simply muttering to himself, as though he was implying that Tyril wasn’t worth the time to interrupt his current task. Is he… Is he thinking I’m a lazy student?

The icy treatment was suffocating. It felt like she was standing under a downpour on a winter’s night.

It was then another voice came. “Please don’t be too hard on her, Professor.”

Forster’s coldness was close to reducing Tyril to tears. In a small act of stubbornness, she curbed the urge to wipe her eyes and focused her slightly blurry vision towards the room behind the professor.

There stood a young man slightly taller than Tyril with short, hay-colored hair and small black-rimmed glasses. He looked as old as Misty, making him appear quite mature. He held a teacup in his hand and gracefully placed it at the top of the pile of books beside Forster’s workspace.

“Would you like some, too?” he asked in a calm and warm tone. “Chamomile tea. It’s delicious, you know.”

Tyril politely declined the offer with a brief “No.” She didn’t have the courage to accept it, and more importantly, there was no space for her here—no desk, no chair, no spot to settle down. She was rather hesitant to simply place the cup on top of a book like he did, nor could she allow herself to do so.

“Oh, I’m just an assistant. I came to make tea; I had no intention of interrupting your conversation. Don’t worry about me. Please, continue.”

The young man showed a friendly smile. Despite saying that she shouldn’t worry about him, he continued to stay by Forster and observe Tyril, maintaining a serene and encouraging smile, fully invested in listening from the side.

Meanwhile, Forster remained completely unresponsive, his gaze only shifting away from his work for but a moment to reach for the teacup next to him. He didn’t bother giving Tyril even a glance—yet somehow, the overwhelming pressure that made her want to cry had dissipated. Perhaps it was due to the faint scent of chamomile in the air.

She summoned her resolve and spoke up.

“E-excuse me!”

Forster ignored her. But the young man offered her a slight smile, and that bolstered her courage somewhat.

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MTL Note: Yes, I have no idea what Hassism is. For those who understand JP, the original text is ハース教から精霊信仰への変遷.
Update: Nvm.

Also, the novel actually contains art/illustrations. I didn’t add them because I had no idea I could, but I’ll work on that… maybe this week.

For more from the author, visit:

Narou: https://mypage.syosetu.com/1258514/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/inui_takafumi

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Last revisions: 20/08/23

Glossary:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_D4XF1ID8j7zti3pG-fqtcd0h0T9aZHK_CXsCrr5gwY/edit?usp=sharing