Chapter 4 : The Knightess, The Millionaire and The Metalsmith

The tintinnabulation seeped in the atmosphere. That is, the sound of bells. As footsteps lapped at the concrete flooring and thrilled voices reverberated against the walls, the students understood this to be the end of class time.

Goods preemptively put away, the pupils of Azama’s class were ready to go.

A push of chairs and shift of movement showed such. The newcomers left swiftly.

Making no effort to verbalize any words of farewell or anything of the like. Any indication that they were even aware of the others' existence was given in the form of Morgana solely, who waved an expeditious goodbye.

In concert with what she perceived to be a potential cry for help, aspirations to give such assistance renewed in Jaiga.

How long do you plan on staying like that? Jaiga thought as she began to follow them. 

Stiff, upright and shoulders leaned forward, the knightess trudged forth.

Keeping them within view, she noticed that the two were heading towards the cafeteria. By all means a mundane and predictable decision, albeit one that would draw attention.

Considering most of the other students were now headed there too, it thus came of no surprise that the duo was rapidly surrounded by a keen, camera-wielding mob. Of which the majority belonged to the newspaper club.

Jaiga who did not understand the appeal of these flashy and loud tools of light and glass, much preferred the more delicate and enlightened artform that was painting.

Then again, she also wasn’t the type to judge those that did like it.

As with many other schools, this one held its fair share of coteries. From mundane selections such as photography, archery, or debate, to the more exotic such as necromancy, arcane history, and even the borderline insane “Club Dedicated to Nourishment via Potentially Unorthodox Methods”, every eccentric taste conceivable were seemingly catered to.

It just so happened that a group full of people with desires for publication and the spreading of rumours seemed to be one of the more popular ones.

Oh how culture dies… Jaiga mourned.

Microphones and cameras alike shot forward, the mob began to pester the pair. Each one going hand in hand with the cry of questions, they brawled like a horde of monkeys to get the best shot.   

“So about your new car...”

“Do you admit to the act of tax fraud in Walpa?”

“Is it true that you engaged in beastiality with a pig?”

From scandalous affairs to more serious ones, to the utterly bizarre and misconstrued. The variety in their assaults, monumental as they were, gave off the impression that each student held an agenda of their own. A true den of diversity and greatness, if you would.

Lucius, who remained steadfast against their assault, refused to answer. The young entrepreneur simply asked them to wait a little longer and to see for themselves. 

Fully knowing it would do little to satisfy their thirst, his hope was to wait for a clear getaway no doubt.

Jaiga hastened through the corridor as the sound of camera shots and chatter grew louder. 

Overly excited for nothing, that’s what Jaiga thought they were.

Neither a powerful mage, or some warrior who had slain or committed acts of valiance, any hope of appeal was lost on her.

The knightess simply could not understand. To her, fame was something that was gained through acts of heroism, intellect, or valiance.

Yet the only ‘virtue’ she saw in the boy was that of richness. 

Were they hoping to get his money?

With great confusion, she sighed before she looked to the path ahead. 

The more they drew closer, the greater the sensation of sound and smell.

This instinctual sensation that she felt, no doubt meant that food was near.

Five minutes later, Lucius’s supposed salvation was a few steps away.

Smells of cuisine of all sorts now filled the air to a greater strength than before. Lucius and Morgana then gave a harmonious nod to each other. In a bid of freedom, they dashed.

The crowd which paved and dispersed from their speed, had made their road to freedom.

Now among the crowd of students in a line of food, vanished from view. 

Morgana, who spied an opportunity for a sly comment, replaced her kind smile with a small smirk.

“Is Mr. Billionaire enjoying the spotlight? I do remember someone bragging in the car earlier about how popular they were.”

Unwilling to lean into her taunt, he instead chose to roll his eyes and invest his hopes in the food. 

The long queue in front of him now splintered into several pathways.

Eyeing the choices, Lucius decided to queue for a simple dish of pork and fried rice.

As he wasn’t quite sure his bowels could handle the acquired taste of ‘monster stew’ quite yet, the billionaire chose a safer option.

Lucius sighed with gratification.

No longer burdened by the pressure of time, and the gentle nudges of hungry students, Lucius took the opportunity to behold the place.

Refreshingly modern, the aesthetic of the place wasn’t quite what he expected.

Given that it was the establishment of the most famous mage in all of Aoel, Lucius thought it would be a bit more... Magical?

With ornate brooms, pompous socialites and an ambience of quiet professionalism, that was what he envisioned a magical academy to be. The sight before him however, remained distinctly opposite.

Contemplating the matter, it wasn’t as if Lucius thought it was a problem.

Quite the contrary actually. With plenty of space to supplement the crowd, the avant-garde interior of the area combined with the view of the forest from the windows created a dichotomy of the highest level.

Truly a design worth appreciating, it fell much more in line with where he had been raised.

A city boy was his nature, and a city boy he would stay. 

Not too shabby… Provided you ignore the ceaseless blabbering, of course.

As the line moved forward once more, the yelps of several students were heard. Briskly turning to see what it was, Lucius saw a young man holding a camera and a block of notes stumble out of the crowd. His papers and glasses toppled to the floor, it captured the curiosity of his soon-to-be interviewee.

Piqued, yet not without pity, Lucius looked in expectation of an answer.

The toppled boy, who abused his quick journalistic wit posed a quick but sweet question. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Mortius, I am the manager of the school newspaper. Would I be able to ask you a few questions?”

A pathetic smile on the face of the half-wit on the ground, Lucius could not help but feel some form of pity for the journalist. 

Calculations of a self-serving sort went through Lucius’s brain. Because he knew that granting an interview may be able to give him a few hours of respite, he decided to accept his request. 

After all, he was helping a fellow student in need, a perfect occasion to forge an image of benevolence to the dozen eyes that watched the scene. 

“Please, call me Lucius. As for your interview request, why don’t we do it over lunch?”

“O-okay, thank you!” the teen answered, incredulous at the prospect of interviewing the famous entrepreneur. 

Among the crowd of students, the journalist then left them in peace.

His attention now liberated, he directed it to the lunch lady.

Identical in face and body to the ones next to it, the only distinction between the food givers was their hair style and color. Standing facing them, he raised a baffled eyebrow before he grabbed a plate of food.

Lucius and Morgana, who were finished, made their way to an empty table. Spoons in hand, the two began to partake their rice while the student took out his equipment. With the camera fixed on their faces, he was ready.

“So Lucius, what made you come to this school and choose the practical course?”

“I believe that knowing your enemy is key in the creation of effective weaponry.” Lucius responded. It was the type of reply that was perfectly vague while also elaborating just enough so that it piqued interest.

“But the course you took does involve a lot of fighting, do you think you possess good enough skills?”

“I was accepted into the course, I think that says enough about my skill!” Lucius exclaimed in a light-hearted tone.

Her preconceptions somewhat gone, Jaiga a table away, had listened intently to their conversation. To some degree, he was right. The headmaster of the academy had access to everything he would have ever wanted, so the concept of Lucius palm-greasing to gain a position here was far from plausible. 

Not only that but, would a billionaire really bribe himself into willingly risking his life? While that could have been possible either through the cause of misinformation or suicidal tendencies, she questioned the likelihood of the two. Holding the belief that he would have been well informed enough for the former, and that his ego was too big to willingly want to die.

Continuing his interview, the student smiled. “O-okay, just out of interest, are you two… together?” 

Lucius, sensing an opportunity to return the favour, gave an astutely sardonic smile at the mention of together.

“Well, of cours-,”

“No, I am just his assistant.” Morgana cut, her tone turning cold despite her friendly smile. 

Yet, unable to contain himself, the journalist pressed further.

“Ah an assistant, so no... favours?” he asked, a wry smile forming on his lips.

Alas, the birth of such a question was inevitable: where there were people, there would be the formation of queries pertaining to the carnal tendencies.

Jaiga who maintained the belief that such questions were of a disgraceful nature, glared with hostile intent.

Face flushed and eyebrow at the question, Morgana took a moment to compose her response..

“N-no! I simply assist Lucius in his work,” she answered, her kind smile slipping ever so slightly.

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, the student chose not to pry further into any potential ‘activities’ the two were engaging in but rather shifted the focus elsewhere.

“Okay, just one last question, would you like to comment on the recent scandal which accuses your company of selling weapons to the autocratic Crilandian regime?”

Criland. A country ran through by rebellion and an autocratic regime, had now become the matter in hand. The most militarized nation in the continent, it would have undoubtedly been a great economic surplus for any weapons dealer.

“Well, the definition of autocracy is a question of perspective-”

“So you do admit that you sell weapons to them?” the student demanded, his eyes flashing at the sight of a potential scoop he may just have found.

“I-if you want an in-depth interview, contact Mortius Industries' press office!” Morgana sternly declared, the stammer in her speech dissipating as her smile finally shattered.

Cold, the voice that had risen came from the bottom of her throat.

Shocked at a newfangled presence of authority, the student exclaimed “A-alright, well thank you Lucius!” before he scrambled off.

Proud of herself for having ‘scared’ off the student, Morgana smiled. 

It wasn’t often that she had an opportunity to let loose, so she would have been a fool not to take it.

 

The reality of the situation was that what Morgana did had little effect. 

Rather than the fact that she wasn’t intimidating, it was more like something far more cold and dangerous had overshadowed it. Though Morgana did not know, the journalist had suddenly felt a cold hard gaze tunneling into the back of his skull.

As if walking on a tightrope, the journalist swallowed his pride and decided that sometimes, life was worth preserving. Now huddled at a distant table, he exchanged one last look with his antagonizing force.

Jaiga, who had been the cause of this distress, looked back.

Frightened into submission, the journalist did not return the look. 

Her body, which lost its stiff posture, led Jaiga to a decision. 

And so, just as Lucius was going to return his plate, the knightess slid into the seat beside Morgana.

Concerned with why a partially armored girl had dropped into their table, the two threw away any last concepts of rationality they had left.

“Greetings, my name is Jaiga. I have been assigned the task of showing you around the school.”

This was, in fact, a lie. It was simply her duty as an experienced student to give them a tour. That and it would have been a prime opportunity to stalk them.

“Very well, it is nice to meet you Jaiga,” Lucius answered as his eyes observed her.

If she was a barcode, then he would have been the scanner. Each of the lines corresponding to a different part of her face or body, he wanted to reveal any ounce of her intentions.

The girl peered at him, doing the exact same.

“Meet me here at five, and don’t be late,” she uttered in a slightly menacing tone.

Lucius, who held his silence, only continued his survey.

To a bystander, it seemed as if the billionaire was ready to put up resistance, and that a dramatic scene to unfold. But to Jaiga, it was simply time.

Cut short of his analysis, Jaiga stood up and left.

W-wait, that’s it? Somewhat surprised, Morgana thought that she would have stuck around a bit longer: from the sheer tension in the air, she supposed that something would have happened. 

Obviously though, that wasn’t the case.

Just who is this girl anyway? 

Somehow, Morgana and Lucius both had the feeling that whatever this school was, it was all but normal.