The Distant Trail Of Ciara Badvia

The Saria Magic Academy
Part 4: Magical Talents

PRACTICAL CLASS PROFESSOR

“Zeeland. Why are you attending this class?”

A cold, deep voice echoed in the practical room. It came from an imposing, young male instructor with long black hair—Master Sakul Raknag. His presence chilled Tyril right through her bones.

“I’m… not very skilled in magic…”

“So? Choosing this course implies that you aim to acquire at least the basics, diligently hone that, and ultimately become more skilled through training, does it not?”

“Erm, well…”

“If that’s not the case, then leave immediately. You are not needed here.”

Raknag’s words were frigid and sharp. Tyril shrank back, unable to counter.

Their assigned task was to conjure a small, round piece of ice big enough to fit in a cup. Certainly not a difficult task, yet Tyril could only summon what were commonly known as “basic” elements: fire, water, and the like. They were already on their second week, yet the summoning of more complex substances remained problematic for her.

Giggling, subdued laughter, as well as bitter words like “She’s taking all the professor’s time…”—Tyril could hear them all around her. Exposed to the gazes of her fellow students, she felt incredibly mortified.

Ultimately, the day’s lessons didn’t progress beyond that point. Master Raknag spent nearly all the remaining time beside Tyril, who repeated the same magic multiple times but only ever succeeded in summoning a small grain of ice, no bigger than the tip of her pinkie. Obviously, she didn’t earn a passing grade from her professor.

“Make certain you can handle this task properly by this time next week. My time cannot be spent exclusively on you,” he spat out. By the time she raised her head, still in fear, the instructor had already turned his back.

The frozen air in the practice room suddenly melted away, similar to that grain-like ice in her cup which created a small puddle. When the instructor closed the door, a collective sigh echoed throughout the classroom—and then the complaints and grievances started leaking out. They were like needles stabbing into her back. Unable to endure it all, Tyril fled the practical room, clutching her belongings. She struggled to hold back her tears.

Her destination: the small square by the school gate where a fig tree stood. She had recently discovered that few people came here. And here, Tyril wept.

I knew it. It’s impossible for me. I… She realized that all the confidence she had built up over the course of the week had crumbled in an instant. I can’t attend that class again. I don’t want to. I don’t want to see Master Raknag anymore.

Tyril displayed her feelings openly, letting them overflow. Before she knew it, her surroundings were bathed in twilight.

*****

After wiping away her tears, Tyril managed to get back on her feet and headed towards Professor Forster’s place. She couldn’t stay at this academy any longer. No matter how much time spent training, she couldn’t become a mage—that was what she wanted to tell him.

However, as strict yet kind as he sounded, her mentor still laid her up for it.

“It’s too early to come to a conclusion. Besides, now that you’re my pupil, do you really think you can be so selfish as to simply leave while saying you can’t do it?”

“But…”

“I’m in correspondence with the castle as well. It’s important you know that giving up on your path now would mean breaking the agreement with His Majesty. I assume you came here fully understanding the gravity of that, yes?”

Tyril had no words for that.

“I’m sure you’ve received living expenses by now, not to mention the academy entrance fee and other miscellaneous expenses. There’s also the penalty for the breach of contract with the royal family. Can you shoulder all that burden?”

“Well, I…”

“Did you choose the path of a mage so casually that you’d give up this easily?”

“No, that’s not what—”

“Did you think your long journey would be so carefree? Stumbling now and then is inevitable, and this is only the first one. A mere setback; that’s all this is.

“That should be enough for today. Return to your room,” he finished without so much as a glance, and Tyril left the laboratory in silence. Despite her mentor’s words, her troubled heart didn’t heal.

Upon returning to her room, Misty was immediately upon her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Tyril muttered about the events for the day, to which she received a pat on the shoulder and an invitation to eat out at the famous Ristilla el Razia. As they partook in an extravagant meal, Misty cheered Tyril up by regaling her with her own stories of failures and the times she hit rock bottom.

Before going to bed, she added one last thing:

“I really like having you as my new roommate, so don’t change your mind after just a week or so, okay? I’ll seriously be angry,” then followed it by looking like she was ready to throw hands to prove her point. It made Tyril so happy that her eyes began welling up again.

She lay down on the bed and shut her eyes. The events of the practical class continued to swirl around in her mind, keeping sleep at bay.

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MTL/N: Raknag is described as middle-aged in a later chapter. Not sure why it suddenly changed to that from “young”.

For more from the author, visit:

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/inui_takafumi

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Last revisions: 01/09/23

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

Revisions:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jS9QeSLaJfl6P_-Gl-zAY0dnKPep3or9fUl-HPukc9g/edit?usp=sharing