Left Unanswered

  Gulp.

  His slimy breakfast slowly slithered down his throat.

  “Wow, you actually ate it,” chuckled Sel.

  Darius smiled. “Good Theo.”

  “Good thing I didn’t bet on you not eating that.”

  “Who you bet with?”

  “I dunno. You?”

  “Ha, ha. I do not bet.”

  “What do you do, then?”

  “I do morning blessing. I eat breakfast. I make tools.”

  The tiny royal waited for the Ancient to continue, watching him intently with a wide and mischievous, Kor-like smile on her face as she stuffed another spoonful of porridge into her mouth.

  Bringing another shaky bite of mush up to his face, Theo cringed. Under normal circumstances, he would have endured such torture, but his duel with Moriya yesterday genuinely did a number on him.

  “How you do field class?”

  Theo barely shrugged. “No idea. They didn’t write a slip for me. Maybe I’ll skip. Not like—”

  His thoughts came to a skidding halt.

  “Not like you’re going to get into trouble,” finished Selene with another laugh, scraping the last of her porridge from her bowl.

  “Yeah,” he mused to himself, blinking while thinking about what repercussions there were now if he didn’t attend classes, if he got into trouble, if he passed out. Who was going to scold him, Moriya? The professor literally could not care less as long as he showed up to his classes. “Yeah,” he repeated louder, pushing the porridge away. “Why am I eating this?”

  And then he straightened up, prepared to make a big exit when pain shot through every bone of his body, rebounded against every fiber of his being, and forced him back to a pathetic slouch.

  “Ngh,” he whimpered, letting his head rest sideways on the table as he looked up at Darius and Selene.

  The Ancient’s expression looked sympathetic, though he pushed the porridge back in front of the physician, who knew better. “Eat. Is not much. Five bites. You have three left. And after, dessert.”

  He blinked. “Dessert? There’s no dessert for—”

  With a smile, the Ancient got up from his seat. “Finish porridge. I get for you.”

  Learning his lesson, Theo gradually sat up this time, feeling his bones protest as he raised his good arm to pick up where he had left off with his gruel.

  Slowly, he repeated to himself, and then you can have dessert.

  “Man, I knew you liked sweets because of the club and all, but I did not know you liked them that much.”

  The third bite burned as it slid down his throat. “Ugh,” he coughed, spawning a wildfire in his lungs. “This better…this better be worth it.”

  The royal, who was now sipping on a mug of warm fairy milk—which, contrary to its name, contained the simple ingredients milk, honey, vanilla, cinnamon, and neither fairies nor magic—let out a small chortle. “He spent some time making it this morning. He heard what happened yesterday and wanted to cheer you up.” Her eyes shifted to the kitchen, and Theo’s gaze followed. “Here he comes.”

  Sitting on a cute plate, comically small in the hands of the great Ancient, was a milky-white pudding.

  “Oh—you—you r—” stuttered Theo with an open mouth, feeling memories he had tucked away rush back to him as the pudding was placed in front of him. The delicate smell of roses. A mistake that could not be undone. A silly spell. His perfect pudding.

  Smiling sweetly, Darius sat back down and gave Theo a glassy look before turning to Selene, laughing proudly, “I remember, too.”

  * * *

  Theo exhaled, watching his breath become a white cloud in the brisk morning air.

  In the distance, running laps around the courtyard were half of the second-years. Elias, Kor, and Selene were part of this group, and he would have been too if he weren’t still recovering.

  He wrapped his cloak close and sat on the edge of the bench. He looked to the right, almost expecting to see someone there, but there was no one.

  There were better places to be other than watching his classmates doing their regular field exercises, after all—especially because he had already missed some of his classes yesterday after checking himself into the infirmary. He had attracted many looks with the steady trail of blood that was left in his wake, but at least the courtyard was right beside the infirmary.

  How long was it this time? Six hours on top of the two it took Chelsi to operate on him. It was longer than usual, but nowhere near as long as the first time he had passed out from doing an Araise. It was a pleasant surprise, and so was discovering that the lingering pain was only a slight ache.

  He could live with that.

  Only realizing that a sigh had left his mouth when another puff of air escaped from his lips, Theo finally got up from his seat and started walking around the courtyard to the lecture halls. There was no use sitting on their so-called “class bench” with no one else. He was only part of their class, a physician who had once dreamed of becoming a tactician. A physician who had buried such a dream on a rainy night, in the middle of the dorms courtyard, after realizing that he might be in love for the first time in his life.

  He fought the urge to stop and bury his face in his hands.

  A dream that I have to dig up, even if it leaves me scarred and my hands bloodied. A dream that was hers.

  “Going so soon?”

  Theo turned his head at the sound of Kor’s voice. At the edge of the yard, waiting for her turn to do their daily endurance test, the chemist tilted her head playfully, her long ponytail swaying behind her.

  “Yeah, I’ve got to get some stuff done.”

  “Yeah?” She smiled sincerely and gave him a playful wink. “Go get ‘em.”

  He let out a light chuckle, always appreciating her ability to lighten the mood. “Thanks. You’ve got this, too.”

  “Ha! Of course I do!” she laughed heartily before turning back to her class.

  He continued to walk again, watching the students carry on like any other day, somehow feeling nostalgic about something happening right in front of him.

  The stairs up to the lecture halls also felt nostalgic, even though he hated how much work it took to get up to any floor past the fifth. Levitation magic exists, he could hear himself ranting to Ty during their first year, why can’t they make something that lets us go up stairs easier?

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  Watching students, professors, and administrative staff alike pass him on the stairs as he slowly made his way up, he could hear Ty’s reply:

  It’s unsustainable. Imagine how many people would need to go up and down the stairs every day.

  How about only in special cases?

  Like?

  Like sickly people.

  They probably shouldn’t be at a combat school.

  But you’ve gotta start here, right? All MATS staff.

  Mhm. Even the admin.

  Guess it’s also convenient if they get attacked, though it’s only happened like, a handful of times…ever.

  And how many battles occurred where we actually sustained—

  Who are you again, our history professor?

  One. Out of nine. And that was because—

  Auugh. Yes, yes, I know. It was a student, and they blew up the eastern caster’s wing, which is what started the spell detector thing all over campus.

  Surveying the busier-than-usual ninth floor and walking up to the front desk, Theo immediately wanted to leave upon seeing that the reports handler wasn’t the same as last semester.

  No chance they’ll recognize me. What a pain.

  “Hello. Pin, please.”

  Theo breathed in sharply, hoping Moriya might have already notified the admin, and silently set his pin on the counter.

  Without even touching the shimmering silver—as a glance was all it took—the handler eyed the physician severely. “This is only—”

  “Our tactician’s…gone,” explained Theo nervously, absorbing the glare. “I was instructed by Professor Moriya to do the reports.”

  The glare softened into a skeptical look. “Stay here. I’ll check in with upstairs,” they said, heading into a room behind them to grab their colleague before taking the papers off their desk along with Theo’s pin.

  Turning his head, his eyes followed his reports handler, who effortlessly ascended the stairs two at a time.

  “Next,” spoke the stand-in behind him.

  Lowering his gaze, Theo took a few polite steps to the side and kept his eye on the stairs until he felt an unnatural chill run up his spine and bumps form on his arm. Something foreboding.

  It came down the stairs. Step by step, before reaching the landing and stopping.

  Theo’s eyes widened as he ran up to him. Another ghost.

  “What are you doing here?” he blurted first.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I thought you were gone.”

  “I am gone.”

  “What are you doing here?” he asked again.

  “I’m running errands for the Headmistress.”

  “I thought you were with Ty.”

  “Well, I should be.”

  Theo opened his mouth incredulously but could not utter a reply.

  “Not sure where she is. Lost track maybe a week ago. Got any tips?”

  An image of him slamming Luci against the wall flashed before his eyes, but the sane part of his mind and the pain in his sides dismissed it. “I thought you all knew where she was. I thought she was—she was supposed to be doing this for the Headmistress. What do you mean you don’t know where she is?”

  The ex-tactician shrugged coolly. “Maybe you should talk to the Headmistress.”

  Just as he was about to say something else, he caught sight of the reports handler descending the stairs two steps at a time again.

  “All good, all good,” they chimed quickly. “Come to the desk, and I’ll hand you your papers.”

  Not before I—thought Theo briefly before cutting himself off, ruefully realizing that Luci had already vanished like the ghost he was supposed to be.

  “Come, now,” called the reports handler.

  Biting his lower lip, no longer frozen, the one who was not allowed to be a ghost turned around and walked up to the counter, taking his pin and the cream folder as was expected of him.

  He sat down at the closest desk and stared at the words ‘Class 2-A’ on it, the thoughts he had wished he could have vocalized running through his mind. The words that he could have said had he chased Luci down the stairs. The answers he may or may not have received.

  He flipped open the folder.

  Copying the words down onto a blank sheet of paper, the weight of the words he had penned did not truly hit him until he read it back to himself.

  2nd order or higher—they were including high-level staff at that point. People who were far more important than students, who would normally have at least a few years of experience on the field.

  Dispensable. That was all he could think of as he reread the words, wondering how little they as students meant if such high-ranking individuals were expected to head over to camps to fight. Stuck behind desks and listening to lectures delivered by professors, he was far beneath them all—what could he change, what could he and the class really do, the mere children that they were?

  He glanced at the next line. Em…his title fell under the Founding category. So would the Headmistress and the Archivist.

  The report also ascertained Ty’s involvement in everything. They were looking for her, even the Headmistress—where was she going, what did she say to him? The scene that replayed in his head, over and over again for so long—

  Everywhere. I’m going to save as many people as I can. I’m going to save the world and defy the Earth Mother. I’m going to prove Her wrong.

  Faris…he must have known something. She must have said something to him. He had heard of the Faluntides years ago, back when he was still a child, back when Em had barely taught him anything. There was a visitor. A visitor and a child.

  Ty had never included the name in her reports. Had she known all along and didn’t want to say it? Everyone knew about the Faluntides’ involvement in the anti-MATS movement; the name was spoken often across campus, especially when the MATS headquarters was now officially on their land. Was it really worth it to obscure something so important?

  Rubbing his eyes, he continued down the list.

  Cephelia, he was not surprised about. He had read the preliminary report—that was what everyone had spoken about for the past two months since the field exam had been held. And then Eslah soon followed in its footsteps, its once Ancient-friendly population irreconcilably divided by the sudden massacre of an entire MATS group. Some pointed fingers at the Ancients, and some pointed at MATS. Eletia, however, was only too happy to rally behind the two other townships by providing them aid to go against Ancients and sorcerers alike.

  07h00 to 10h30. How lucky—he had done the Araise, fought with Moriya, skipped Fieldwork, gone to reports, encountered Luci, and now he had enough time to catch the Headmistress during her office hours.

  Gently slipping his own paper into his pocket and closing the folder, Theo promptly got up and handed his folder to the handler.

  “Thank you, Tactician Theo.”

  “That’s—” he started to correct before realizing, while turning around and heading up the stairs, past the large windows that made all students below look like ants, that his words meant nothing in a world where the title and distinction of a mere pawn changed little, least of all its fate.

  Moriya was right. Death, it would come. The true question was—are you going to fight?