Class Ridicule and the Theft of a Relic
Nov. 9th, 2022 07:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ask_whydunitContent Warning: Public humiliation
Class was in full swing in the lecture hall of the El-Melloi Classroom. But the man standing in front of the room was very different from the Lord El-Melloi Aterat had come to know. Instead, a blond haired, severe looking figure stood at the head of the class.
Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was currently going over a… very basic principle that mage society adhered to. Most students were still listening carefully. Some were leaned on their arms looking bored, while others were uncertain about what had brought on this particular subject.
One student had a slight idea, of course. Back straight in his seat, eyes trained on his professor with interest… He had turned in an essay on this very subject just the other day, after all. Unfortunately, the young man was a bit idealistic and foolhardy by mage society standards. He didn’t quite see what was coming, but considering his disagreements with the professor in the past, perhaps he should have.
“In the world of magic, lineage determines rank. This is because the secrets of magic simply cannot be learned within a single generation. Parents must spend their lives training and pass down the fruits of their labor to their children. This is why the oldest magical families are the most powerful.” Lord El-Melloi’s voice was strong and even as it carried through the large space, echoing lightly. “Some of you may be wondering why I am presenting such basic knowledge. Yesterday, a student turned in an essay.” The man held up a stack of papers held together by a clip. Waving it slightly and tapping the cover page. “The title is, ‘How Magic Should Be in the New Century.’ This paper objects to the theory I have just presented. It argues that a deeper understanding of spells and skillful mana control could enable someone to bridge the gap.”
As the professor falls silent, the other students seem shocked by the idea, and start to murmur amongst themselves. Some looking even hopeful or impressed by the idea, while others were rather skeptical of the concept given their upbringing. “In other words, even someone with a very limited magical lineage could become a first-class mage. I will admit, this paper taught me something.” Waver is left to glance around. It’s his paper Lord El-Melloi is waving at the class, and the young man can’t help but feel a small thrill of excitement. Had his paper impressed the Lord that much that he was going to share it with the class? Had he finally made his argument sound enough to be taken seriously?
“Quiet!” The professor commanded silence among his students, looking at the cover sheet of the paper again before continuing. “I’ll be clear. Every word of this paper is drivel.” The paper is slammed down unceremoniously against the desk, and Waver’s stomach lurches as shock crosses his face. “Bloodlines determine magical skill. That is an irrefutable truth. Mr. Waver Velvet…” The teen was already on his feet before the name even left Lord El-Melloi’s mouth, shock having given way to frustration with this old-minded nonsense. Still, the man continued. “I find it lamentable that one of my students would harbor such delusional beliefs.”
Things proceeded as they tended to, of course. “Sir, I only wanted to raise the issue to the Mage Association because they haven't addressed it-” The explanation was cut off as the Lord spoke over him. “Mr. Waver! Your family has only produced three generations of mages, correct? It seems to me that, compared to the associations long history, your family is still a crying infant. And a baby must learn to speak before he can talk back to his parents.” Laughter rings out in the air around him at the comment, most of his fellow classmates finding the ridicule hilarious. After all, if Lord El-Melloi says so, it must be true, right?
The teen's face is left burning, feeling utterly embarrassed as he bit back a shout of frustration at the man at the head of the class. To say more now would only make things worse, to give both the professor and his classmates more ammunition to insult him for his foolhardy beliefs. Waver realized, yet again, that his late mother had warned him against enrolling in this school for a reason… They would never see him as belonging in this space.
Instead, he bolted out of the class and away from the sounds of laughter and into the hall, fists clenched at his side and head down. It wasn’t until he was in an empty corridor that the teen finally exploded with frustration. “That egoistical blowhard, making a fool of me!” He gripped, voice high and cracking slightly. “And he calls himself a professor!?” It was one thing to be called out with if he had interrupted openly with his paper, but the professor had started it this time!
Waving his hands around in frustration, he continued. “My thesis just made him jealous!” ... Sure it did, Velvet echoed in the back of his mind. “He’s afraid of my talent!” What talent? “That’s why he wanted to humiliate me in Pub-AH!” The rambling, arrogant tangent finally broke off as his foot connected with something hard, and down he went.
“Whoops. Sorry... You all right?” A man wheeling the cart Waver had tripped on said, looking down at the teenager.
Awkwardly, Waver looked up. “Y-yes...!” He crouched, and started to pick himself up.
“Your one of El-Melloi’s students? Shouldn’t you be in a lecture?” The man asked skeptically, because Waver should be in a lecture. He would be too, if he hadn’t been chased out by laughter. “I- uh...” Waver floundered a bit... He really didn’t need to get in trouble on top of everything else! “Professor wanted me to run an errand for him! So I’m in a bit of a hurry!” He lied very quickly, hoping it was believable enough.
“Oh, how fortunate?” The man responded, reaching over his cart to pick up a box. “Could you take this package to your Professor?” Waver reached out and took the package, eyes trailing over the writing on it. “This package...?”
“It looks important, so I’m counting on you!” The man commented lightly, before walking away regardless of the teen’s answer.
“Important...” He murmured more to himself, reading the sender address. “It’s from Macedonia...?” There were rumors floating around the Clock Tower that Lord El-Melloi had been selected to participate in a ritual that was taking place in Japan... Perhaps...?
Hurrying to the library, an idea began to form in the teen’s mind as he gathered books and stacked them high on his desk. The odd student giving him a skeptical look as he seemed entirely enveloped in research. It wasn’t strange to see, really. Waver was in the clock tower libraries a lot for that very reason, though a few were surprised he hadn’t finally packed it in and just fled the tower altogether after the class that day.
“There it is...” he murmured to himself, finally finding what he was looking for. “So the rumors that Kayneth is fighting in some eastern ritual were true?” Glancing at the box once, he turned his eyes back to the page he read over the history of the ritual. "The Holy Grail War... Two hundred years ago the families known as ‘The Three,’ the Einzeberns, Makiris and Tohsakas worked together to summon the holy grail. A holy artifact with the power to grant it’s bearer any wish. However, the holy grail can only answer one prayer. Their alliance disintegrated into a brutal, bloody war. That was the origin of the Holy Grail Wars... Ever since, the Holy Grail had appeared in Fuyuki City. Once every sixty years. The grail chooses seven mages it deems worthy to possess it, and enables them to summon powerful heroic spirits, known as servants. Archer, Saber, Lancer, Rider, Assassin, Caster, Berserker, there can only be seven divided into the seven classes. Once summoned, they fight to the death to try to establish who is truly worthy of possessing the holy grail."
Leaning back, the teen sighed. “You don’t need to be of any impressive lineage or influence in the Holy Grail war... You just need to be the most talented. I’m a perfect candidate for this!” He commented quietly, with an eager smile as a plan formed in his mind. Something on the page caught his attention again, though. “Additionally, one needs a relic that once belonged to the spirit to act as a catalyst during their summoning. A relic...”
Hm...
His eyes turned to the package he had yet to deliver to his professor. Pulling out his pocket knife, he sliced through the twine and paper to reveal an ornate, dark charcoal coloured box. Lifting it’s lid, he gasped at what he saw within. This was it...! It didn’t look particularly impressive, nothing more than a scrap of dark red cloth weathered by time... But the teen’s face lit up.
He had a lot of work to do, to learn about the item and... Perhaps Melvin would still be open to making a deal for a little loan for a plane ticket, huh?
Class was in full swing in the lecture hall of the El-Melloi Classroom. But the man standing in front of the room was very different from the Lord El-Melloi Aterat had come to know. Instead, a blond haired, severe looking figure stood at the head of the class.
Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was currently going over a… very basic principle that mage society adhered to. Most students were still listening carefully. Some were leaned on their arms looking bored, while others were uncertain about what had brought on this particular subject.
One student had a slight idea, of course. Back straight in his seat, eyes trained on his professor with interest… He had turned in an essay on this very subject just the other day, after all. Unfortunately, the young man was a bit idealistic and foolhardy by mage society standards. He didn’t quite see what was coming, but considering his disagreements with the professor in the past, perhaps he should have.
“In the world of magic, lineage determines rank. This is because the secrets of magic simply cannot be learned within a single generation. Parents must spend their lives training and pass down the fruits of their labor to their children. This is why the oldest magical families are the most powerful.” Lord El-Melloi’s voice was strong and even as it carried through the large space, echoing lightly. “Some of you may be wondering why I am presenting such basic knowledge. Yesterday, a student turned in an essay.” The man held up a stack of papers held together by a clip. Waving it slightly and tapping the cover page. “The title is, ‘How Magic Should Be in the New Century.’ This paper objects to the theory I have just presented. It argues that a deeper understanding of spells and skillful mana control could enable someone to bridge the gap.”
As the professor falls silent, the other students seem shocked by the idea, and start to murmur amongst themselves. Some looking even hopeful or impressed by the idea, while others were rather skeptical of the concept given their upbringing. “In other words, even someone with a very limited magical lineage could become a first-class mage. I will admit, this paper taught me something.” Waver is left to glance around. It’s his paper Lord El-Melloi is waving at the class, and the young man can’t help but feel a small thrill of excitement. Had his paper impressed the Lord that much that he was going to share it with the class? Had he finally made his argument sound enough to be taken seriously?
“Quiet!” The professor commanded silence among his students, looking at the cover sheet of the paper again before continuing. “I’ll be clear. Every word of this paper is drivel.” The paper is slammed down unceremoniously against the desk, and Waver’s stomach lurches as shock crosses his face. “Bloodlines determine magical skill. That is an irrefutable truth. Mr. Waver Velvet…” The teen was already on his feet before the name even left Lord El-Melloi’s mouth, shock having given way to frustration with this old-minded nonsense. Still, the man continued. “I find it lamentable that one of my students would harbor such delusional beliefs.”
Things proceeded as they tended to, of course. “Sir, I only wanted to raise the issue to the Mage Association because they haven't addressed it-” The explanation was cut off as the Lord spoke over him. “Mr. Waver! Your family has only produced three generations of mages, correct? It seems to me that, compared to the associations long history, your family is still a crying infant. And a baby must learn to speak before he can talk back to his parents.” Laughter rings out in the air around him at the comment, most of his fellow classmates finding the ridicule hilarious. After all, if Lord El-Melloi says so, it must be true, right?
The teen's face is left burning, feeling utterly embarrassed as he bit back a shout of frustration at the man at the head of the class. To say more now would only make things worse, to give both the professor and his classmates more ammunition to insult him for his foolhardy beliefs. Waver realized, yet again, that his late mother had warned him against enrolling in this school for a reason… They would never see him as belonging in this space.
Instead, he bolted out of the class and away from the sounds of laughter and into the hall, fists clenched at his side and head down. It wasn’t until he was in an empty corridor that the teen finally exploded with frustration. “That egoistical blowhard, making a fool of me!” He gripped, voice high and cracking slightly. “And he calls himself a professor!?” It was one thing to be called out with if he had interrupted openly with his paper, but the professor had started it this time!
Waving his hands around in frustration, he continued. “My thesis just made him jealous!” ... Sure it did, Velvet echoed in the back of his mind. “He’s afraid of my talent!” What talent? “That’s why he wanted to humiliate me in Pub-AH!” The rambling, arrogant tangent finally broke off as his foot connected with something hard, and down he went.
“Whoops. Sorry... You all right?” A man wheeling the cart Waver had tripped on said, looking down at the teenager.
Awkwardly, Waver looked up. “Y-yes...!” He crouched, and started to pick himself up.
“Your one of El-Melloi’s students? Shouldn’t you be in a lecture?” The man asked skeptically, because Waver should be in a lecture. He would be too, if he hadn’t been chased out by laughter. “I- uh...” Waver floundered a bit... He really didn’t need to get in trouble on top of everything else! “Professor wanted me to run an errand for him! So I’m in a bit of a hurry!” He lied very quickly, hoping it was believable enough.
“Oh, how fortunate?” The man responded, reaching over his cart to pick up a box. “Could you take this package to your Professor?” Waver reached out and took the package, eyes trailing over the writing on it. “This package...?”
“It looks important, so I’m counting on you!” The man commented lightly, before walking away regardless of the teen’s answer.
“Important...” He murmured more to himself, reading the sender address. “It’s from Macedonia...?” There were rumors floating around the Clock Tower that Lord El-Melloi had been selected to participate in a ritual that was taking place in Japan... Perhaps...?
Hurrying to the library, an idea began to form in the teen’s mind as he gathered books and stacked them high on his desk. The odd student giving him a skeptical look as he seemed entirely enveloped in research. It wasn’t strange to see, really. Waver was in the clock tower libraries a lot for that very reason, though a few were surprised he hadn’t finally packed it in and just fled the tower altogether after the class that day.
“There it is...” he murmured to himself, finally finding what he was looking for. “So the rumors that Kayneth is fighting in some eastern ritual were true?” Glancing at the box once, he turned his eyes back to the page he read over the history of the ritual. "The Holy Grail War... Two hundred years ago the families known as ‘The Three,’ the Einzeberns, Makiris and Tohsakas worked together to summon the holy grail. A holy artifact with the power to grant it’s bearer any wish. However, the holy grail can only answer one prayer. Their alliance disintegrated into a brutal, bloody war. That was the origin of the Holy Grail Wars... Ever since, the Holy Grail had appeared in Fuyuki City. Once every sixty years. The grail chooses seven mages it deems worthy to possess it, and enables them to summon powerful heroic spirits, known as servants. Archer, Saber, Lancer, Rider, Assassin, Caster, Berserker, there can only be seven divided into the seven classes. Once summoned, they fight to the death to try to establish who is truly worthy of possessing the holy grail."
Leaning back, the teen sighed. “You don’t need to be of any impressive lineage or influence in the Holy Grail war... You just need to be the most talented. I’m a perfect candidate for this!” He commented quietly, with an eager smile as a plan formed in his mind. Something on the page caught his attention again, though. “Additionally, one needs a relic that once belonged to the spirit to act as a catalyst during their summoning. A relic...”
Hm...
His eyes turned to the package he had yet to deliver to his professor. Pulling out his pocket knife, he sliced through the twine and paper to reveal an ornate, dark charcoal coloured box. Lifting it’s lid, he gasped at what he saw within. This was it...! It didn’t look particularly impressive, nothing more than a scrap of dark red cloth weathered by time... But the teen’s face lit up.
He had a lot of work to do, to learn about the item and... Perhaps Melvin would still be open to making a deal for a little loan for a plane ticket, huh?
