The excitement of the upcoming challenge was enjoyed not only by the three winners of the third trial, but also by other people in the class. The discussion as to who would be in which team was in full symposium. The entire classroom was thrilled and discussed who would be the eventual winner. The discourse felt a bit hollow though, without the full knowledge of the teams. So, the students moved on to the individual prowess of the three people involved; Sirius, Fynn and Daniel.

 

Daniel and Fynn had shown their monstrous abilities in their respective third trials. They both had Heavens’ Gift that gave them even more of an advantage. On the other hand, Sirius had never revealed his powers. Sirius had even told the others that he did not possess any Heavens’ Gift. Based on these facts alone, it could easily be assumed that he was the inferior one amongst the three but no one made such stupid judgments. Why? Well, the reason was quite simple.

 

Sirius was a Frye. Fryes were born warriors and in the generations where no Star was born, Fryes occupied the zenith. There was a reason why the Fryes were called the Supreme House. No one discounted Sirius just because he had never revealed his powers. There was one more reason that people didn’t think Sirius’ team would be weaker than the other two. Rather than a reason, it was a person.

 

Mehr.

 

Just his presence alone warranted unmitigated terror. The annoyed look he always had and the emotionless gaze in his eyes made everyone shiver. No one understood why someone as likeable as Sirius would always stay with someone like Mehr. But his strength was never under scrutiny. Everyone understood that the Lunatic was extremely powerful, at least among the first-years. 

 

Many people had tried to get close to Sirius through various ways but every attempt was thwarted by Mehr’s emotionless gaze. There was a little story being told amongst the first-years regarding the events of a particular night. The only night that Mehr’s expression had changed. The night Marcus had insulted Sirius’ mother and the subsequent events when Mehr asked everyone to leave, that was the only moment when people had seen Mehr smile. Now, everyone wanted to avoid making Mehr smile. People even said he looked better with that annoyed expression on his face.

 

 While they understood what happened to Marcus could not be done by Mehr or Sirius, they still didn’t want to make Mehr mad. They all believed that either the Royal Court or the Frye House had something to do with the matter. This theory was also corroborated by the sudden appearance of King Acacia.

 

None of the students had heard what King Acacia and Willem talked about, and in their childish minds, they associated it with the words that Marcus had said in the hours prior. And so, none of them ever discussed those matters and swiftly forgot them. Well, even if Marcus had died, it wouldn’t have been that surprising.

 

However, the matter regarding Marcus was not forgotten by everyone. There was one person who could never forget what happened to him. 

 

Meera Gauras.

 

Even if they had their differences and never got along well, Marcus was still her brother. Her blood. She knew that there was nothing she could have done to change the outcome. The matter involved The Fryes and The Royal Court. It was very fortunate that her family was never harmed. She knew she should be thankful for the mercy that had been provided to her family but she felt anguished. The people above her could decide her and her family’s life on a whim. She always knew that. That was how the world worked.

 

But remembering the state that Marcus was in made her heart tear up. She had felt a pain akin to a knife to one’s soul when she had seen the breathing pile of flesh. She knew she needed to change and that was when she decided to approach Adhara. If there were people above her, then she would crawl up their legs to reach their necks. The pebble that Adhara had called her, wanted to push the rocks aside to move on to the path of The Greats.

 

The sea of swirling thoughts in the classroom, filled with the excitement of many and pain of some, came to rest when Professor Sorsha entered the classroom. Her eyes were sharp and stature strong, her robe was grey in colour with the familiar insignia of The Academy on the heart. Her hands were free as she moved towards the podium and stood behind it. She looked at the students, sitting in a room surrounded by books and nodded gently.

 

“As you all know, my name is Sorsha Innis and I’ll be your Master of Politics and History moving forward.” She spoke with great clarity, unafraid of the students’ impression they created on the night when her attacks were unbelievably helpless.

 

“I’ve heard many great things about this batch from the other professors. I believe you would perform as well in this theoretical class as you do in the practical ones. So, we will start with very basic history today. I hope all of you know when our written history starts.”

 

Many students raised their hands and Sorsha picked one of them to answer.

 

“Our written history starts with the birth of The First Star, God of Liberation. That period is called the Age of Three Races.” The student answered politely.

 

“Very good. Can anyone tell me when the Age of Three Races ends?” Sorsha asked.

 

Students raised their hands once again.

 

“You.” Sorsha pointed at one of them.

 

“The Age of Three Races ends with the passing of The Sword God. That’s also when the Age of The Humans started.”

 

“Correct. In our curriculum, we would be discussing the basics of the two ages.” Sorsha was going to continue when she noticed a raised hand. She looked towards the child and nodded in approval.

 

“You said it is the beginning of our written history. When did our actual history start?” The one who asked the question was Mehr.

 

“That’s a good question. Mehr, am I right?”

 

Mehr nodded.

 

“Well, the age before The God of Liberation is taught in the fourth and fifth year. But I can provide some very rudimentary nuggets of information. Or would someone else like to speak up?” Sorsa looked at the class but after noticing no raised hands, she went on to answer Mehr’s question.

 

“Not much is known about that period but from what the brave traversers of the badlands have found, it is known that there was a great war. The three races of humans, beastmen and dragons stood together to drive out the enemies as they chased them deep into the badlands. Many experts call that age, The Age of Crusades.”

 

Many students visibly gasped at this information. In the written history, it was clearly mentioned that the three races never aligned themselves with each other and in the subsequent wars, humans came out on top. Standing together with other races to drive out some unknown enemy? It seemed like a very far-fetched idea embroiled in fantasy. 

 

“What are you doing teaching these kids about dead fellows, Sorsha.” A cackling voice interrupted the class. Sorsha turned to look at the door and found a plump man in a white robe with a mischievous look in his eyes, giggling to himself.

 

“Master Willem, weren’t you supposed to give the fourth-years a lecture today?” Sorsha raised her brows.

 

“Eh. I cancelled it. There was something much more interesting to do today.” Willem turned to look at the class and nodded lightly.

 

“Daniel, Sirius and Fynn. Come along with your teams. It’s time for your mission.”

 

Willem’s comment turned the silent atmosphere into an uproar. The children turned around to look at the three fellow students with excitement in their eyes. Their eyes, curious to find out the team members.

 

“Master Willem, it's the middle of the week and I’m in the middle of the class. Also, these are first-year students and cannot take the missions yet.” Sorsha fired her words.

 

“Who cares!” Willem waved his hand, shooing away any comments that came from Sorsha.

 

“The Headmaster will be angry at you, yet again.” Sorsha tried to plead by adding the name of the Headmaster.

 

“Everyone,” Willem said while addressing the classroom, “Is there anyone who will tell on me?” 

 

The students shook their heads while giggling, matching the expression of Willem.

 

“It's settled then. Let’s go, what're you waiting for? Willem hurried the three teams while noting each participant.

 

Sirius Frye, Mehr, and Nora Forde.

 

Fynn Woodrow, Hope Woodrow, and Adhara.

 

Daniel Goodstay, Meera Gauras, and David Eastmere.

 

Willem nodded while scrutinising the teams. He signalled for the kids to follow him and started walking towards the entrance Gate.

 

“Wouldn’t we suffer because of our absence?” Nora asked, seemingly worried about skipping the class.

 

“It’s just History. Nobody cares, Miss Forde.” Willem answered with a dismissive tone.

 

“Well, History teaches us not to repeat the mistakes of the past,” Mehr said while walking beside Sirius, who also nodded at his words.

 

Willem looked at Mehr and replied with a mischievous gaze, “Really? Do you really think that people can avoid mistakes just by learning about past mistakes? If you really think so, you’re sorely mistaken.” 

 

“Why do you say that?” Fynn chimed in from the side.

 

“People are bound to make mistakes, even if they know what the end result would be. Circumstances often debilitate a person’s mind and you think that history would be remembered in such situations. Wrong.”

 

“Can you prove that though, Professor?” Daniel asked.

 

Willem thought for a moment, his eyes reflecting a nostalgic advertence. He smiled softly as he turned to the kids and said, “Well, I can prove it with a story but only the team that wins will be eligible to listen to it. What do you say?”

 

“It’s just a story though, Professor Willem. You can just tell us.”

 

“Stories have worth that you kids cannot understand yet. Some stories are worth more than the greatest of treasures.” Willem answered with an unfamiliarly soft tone.

 

Some of the children laughed out loud after listening to what Willem said, thinking that the mischievous professor was playing a joke on them. Only Mehr was listening attentively. He knew that every word uttered from Willem’s mouth had many meanings.

 

“Can you at least tell us what the story is called?” Mehr asked.

 

Willem kept looking ahead but his eyes had turned solemn, a scene very odd to the ones familiar with him. His eyes contained no mischief and diablerie as if they had always been a lie. His face showed utmost devotion and reverence while speaking the words ahead.

 

“The Hero and the Evil Dragon.”

 

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