The door opened. The servant, a thin middle-aged man who had worked at the mansion for years, entered carrying a silver tray.
On the tray rested an envelope sealed with the crest of the Royal Academy of Rhyne.
The seal was made of red wax, bearing the Academy’s symbol. A shield crossed by a sword and a staff, representing the two primary fields of study: combat and magic.
Lukas carefully picked up the envelope, broke the seal with his thumb, the wax cracking with a dry snap, and opened the letter.
Asmon’s handwriting was firm but carried a touch of haste. The letters leaned slightly to the right, and so words had been scribbled quickly, as if he had written them between classes.
Lukas began to read.
"Dear little brother,
I hope this letter finds you well, together with Father, Mother, and Judite. Life at the Academy is intense, but I am adapting. Sword training every morning, theoretical classes in the afternoon, and practical missions on weekends.
The head instructor, Master Kaelen, said my mana progress is above average for a first-year student. Father would be proud. I almost managed to fully activate the glow of my inner light last week, just a few more months of training.
But that is not what I want to talk about today.
There is sothing I think will interest you very much."
Lukas held his breath.
"At the Academy, there is a mandatory first-year class called ’Ecology of Beasts and Magical Creatures.’
It is dedicated entirely to the study of the beasts of this world. It is not just about how to kill them, although that is also taught, yes, because it is important to know how to defend yourself. It is about understanding them.
The professor, Master Elandor, is a specialist who has traveled across the entire continent. He knows beasts I have never even heard of, from forests that do not appear on maps. He speaks about them with an infectious passion.
He brings live beasts into class, inside reinforced cages, of course, with multiple layers of safety. He explains their habits, how they feed, how they use mana, how they reproduce, what role they play in the ecosystem, and how to distinguish common beasts from divine or ancestral beasts."
Lukas read that sentence twice.
"Divine or ancestral beasts."
His heart began to race.
"In the last class, he brought a young Wyvern.
Just imagine it. A winged creature with gleaming green scales, mbranous wings, and a spiked tail. It was inside an enormous cage, but it seed calm. It was actually sleeping.
Master Elandor explained how they fly by using mana to reduce their body weight. How the venom in their tails does not kill but paralyzes. How the tail can regenerate if severed. How they communicate through infrasonic sounds that humans cannot hear, but other animals can sense.
It was fascinating. For the first ti, I saw students who hate theory paying complete attention. Even the biggest brutes had their eyes glued to the professor.
There are also lessons on classification. Elental beasts, pure mana beasts, ancient beasts, divine beasts, and a special category called ’unique beasts,’ creatures that do not fit into any classification, usually extrely rare and powerful."
Lukas ntally recorded every category.
"Elental. Pure mana. Ancient. Divine. Unique."
"And the most interesting part is that he talks about dostication.
Not all beasts are hostile, Lukas. So can form bonds if treated properly. Master Elandor said there are ancient records of nobles who kept beasts as guardians or companions. It is not common, it is difficult, dangerous, and requires a great deal of knowledge, but it is possible.
He showed us a drawing of a knight riding an ice wolf. He said it happened centuries ago in the northern kingdom. The wolf was not a dosticated animal, it was an ally. A creature that chose to stay."
Lukas looked at Tilbo on his shoulder. Then at Prata in his hand.
’They chose to stay.’
"When I co ho, I will tell you everything I have learned. I have been keeping notes in a notebook just for you. I have already filled about ten pages with descriptions of beasts, habitats, behaviors..."
Maybe one day you will co study here too. Although I imagine you would rather be surrounded by beasts than swords.
Take care, little genius. Give Judite a hug for and tell Mother that I am eating well. Tell Father that I am training every day.
Missing you,
Asmon Dmond"
Lukas read the letter twice.
Then a third ti.
His heart beat harder with every line. His small hands trembled slightly as he held the paper.
He carefully folded the letter, smoothing the edges with his fingers, and placed it inside the drawer of his bedside table.
But the words continued echoing in his mind.
"A class dedicated entirely to the study of beasts..."
"Ecology. Behavior. Mana. Dostication."
"Divine beasts. Ancestral beasts. Unique beasts."
He imagined large classrooms with reinforced cages, professors explaining life cycles, students taking notes on feeding habits, migration patterns, strengths, and weaknesses.
That was exactly what he needed.
Not rely brute strength to capture beasts, though that was important too. But deep knowledge. Knowledge to understand them, care for them, and one day create a zoo where they could live comfortably.
’This will be one of my main goals.’ He thought, looking at Tilbo and Prata.
Tilbo slowly moved her antennae. Prata climbed from his hand onto his arm.
"When I am old enough, I will go to the Academy."
"Not because of the sword. But because of this."
Four months after his first birthday, Lukas had reached one year and four months of age.
The season had changed. The warmth of sumr had given way to a gentle autumn, with golden and red leaves falling from the trees in the inner garden. The air was cooler, and the nights were longer.
It was a peaceful night.
The mansion was silent, save for the distant chirping of crickets outside and the gentle wind rustling the trees of the inner garden. The sound of the crickets was constant, a low rhythmic hum that lulled the residents to sleep.
Lukas slept deeply in his bed.
The light blue blanket was pulled up to his chest, rising and falling with his calm, steady breathing. His white hair was spread across the pillow like strands of silk, gleaming faintly beneath the moonlight streaming through the window. His face was relaxed, his lips slightly parted, his violet eyes hidden beneath closed eyelids.
Tilbo was curled up on the pillow beside his head, her tallic body gleaming like a small bronze beetle. Her antennae drooped downward, and she breathed slowly, if ants even breathed at all.
Prata, as usual, rested inside her improvised terrarium.
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