Chapter 9 : Saint Roland Magic Academy
Over the next two days, White Bell City transford, for Ryan and Cosette, from a brief stopping point into a tense supply hub for preparing their academic necessities.
The freshman notice list from Saint Roland Magic Academy was long and ticulous. Aside from tuition fees, there was a large collection of learning supplies that students had to prepare themselves: crystal beakers and glass conduits of various specifications, copper asuring weights engraved with basic asurent scales, a complete set of sealed reagent kits used for observing elentary elental reactions, magic-resistant parchnt, specially formulated ink, and—most burdenso to both the hands and the purse—a full set of thick textbooks: 《Basic Structure of Magic Runes and Chanting》, 《Introduction to Alchemy: Beginning with Material Identification》, 《Characteristics and Processing of One Hundred Common Magical Plants》, and 《Fundantal Theory of Mana Circulation and ditation》…
Ryan brought his little maid along as he moved between specialty shops near the academy district. Cosette wore that slightly loose maid outfit, trying her best to fulfill her duties, such as helping carry things.
Reality, however, quickly gave the two of them a clear understanding.
When Ryan received the first bundle of leather-bound hardback tos from the bookstore clerk—tied together with a leather cord and weighing more than ten pounds in total—he casually passed them back to Cosette behind him.
The girl hurriedly extended both hands to receive them. The mont the stack settled into her arms, her small body swayed noticeably. Her arms sank under the weight, her pale cheeks flushed slightly from the strain, and her slender wrists looked fragile beneath the crushing load of books.
She clenched her teeth, trying to hold the stack steady, yet her steps staggered.
Ryan stopped walking and glanced back, his brows knitting faintly. Without a word, he reached out and easily lifted the stack of books from Cosette’s arms with almost no effort. Holding them in one hand, he used the other to accept the remaining items the clerk passed to him.
Cosette’s arms suddenly felt empty. She remained frozen in the posture of holding sothing, embarrassnt and dejection rising visibly across her face. Lowering her head, she nervously twisted the edge of her apron with her fingers.
And that was not even the most troubleso part.
At an alchemy materials shop, when Ryan needed to confirm the label and dosage instructions on a basic solvent, he casually asked Cosette to “take a look at what it says and read the ingredients.”
Cosette leaned close to the glass bottle with its delicate label. Her hazel eyes widened as she stared carefully at the twisting imperial common script and the even more complex magical symbols that, to her, resembled an incomprehensible heavenly text.
Her cheeks gradually reddened with suppressed anxiety. After a long mont, she finally muttered in a voice thick with sha, “M-Master… I… I cannot read…”
Ryan had been comparing prices. At her words, his movents paused. He turned to look at her.
The girl had lowered her head deeply, almost burying her face in her chest. The tips of her ears were so red they seed ready to bleed. Her shoulders shrank slightly, as if she were waiting for a reprimand.
Ryan said nothing. He simply took the bottle himself, examined it briefly, and told the shopkeeper the quantity he needed.
Illiterate. Completely illiterate.
Damn it. He should have realized sooner.
An orphan struggling to survive in the slums was already fortunate just to stay alive. Literacy was nothing but a luxury.
Yet in the environnt of a magic academy, it was practically a fatal flaw.
In the future, if he needed her to borrow specific books from the library, collect registered materials from the supply office, or even simply understand class schedules and ti arrangents, she would require basic literacy.
Not to ntion the high-level attendants commonly seen beside noble students—servants capable of handling docunts for their masters or even writing assignnts on their behalf.
Compared with those, the girl beside him…
Aside from that face which beca strikingly eye-catching once it had been properly cleaned, she was practically a sheet of blank paper in every other practical skill.
“I still have to teach her how to read…” The realization made Ryan feel a dull ache beginning to throb at his temples.
Ti and energy were both problems. Yet it seed he had no other choice.
On the morning of their departure for the academy, they hired a public carriage that traveled between White Bell City and Saint Roland Magic Academy.
The fare was one silver coin. For ordinary households, that was not a small expense, but for freshn who needed to carry a large amount of luggage, it was the most practical option. The two old horses pulling the carriage looked gentle yet enduring, and the carriage itself was spacious enough to accommodate four or five passengers and their belongings.
Ryan and Cosette brought all the supplies they had purchased—several bulging leather bags and a crate of bundled books—and occupied a seat toward the rear of the carriage.
With a shout from the driver and a crisp crack of the whip in the air, the wheels rolled over the stone road and began their steady rattling rhythm, heading toward the distant outline of mountains barely visible through the pale morning mist outside the city.
Inside the carriage, Ryan leaned against one side, hoping to use the half-day journey to do so additional study.
He opened the heavy 《Basic Structure of Magic Runes and Chanting》. His gaze fell upon the complicated diagrams of foundational runes as he tried to connect the fragnted knowledge from the original owner’s mories with the systematic explanations in the book. The pages trembled slightly with the movent of the carriage.
Cosette sat upright across from him. Her back was straight, and both hands rested neatly upon her knees, which were pressed together beneath white stockings.
The toes of her brand-new black leather shoes lightly tapped the carriage floor.
After two days of adjustnt, she was no longer as completely at a loss about the proper bearing of a “maid” as she had been at first. At least on the surface, she could maintain a quiet, obedient composure.
Yet when faced with this unfamiliar mode of transportation and the ever-expanding countryside scenery sliding past outside the window, her hazel eyes still shimred with undisguised tension and curiosity.
Most of the ti, her gaze remained fixed on the scenery outside.
Tall coniferous forests gradually replaced the farmland on the outskirts of the city. The outline of distant mountains beca increasingly clear. The sky was an invigorating shade of blue, and occasionally birds of unusual shapes swept across the heavens.
Everything was completely different from the narrow alleys and murky slls of the city corners she had always known.
What stirred her heart even more was the image of their destination—the magic academy, the place that existed only in legends and in the fragnts Ryan had occasionally ntioned.
Would there truly be floating towers there? Would robed mages fly overhead?
By the afternoon, the carriage gradually slowed, the jolting easing before finally coming to a stop.
The driver lifted the curtain from outside. Brilliant afternoon sunlight poured into the carriage like a waterfall, along with a breath of air scented with grass, damp soil, and distant flowers.
It was utterly different from the noisy bustle of White Bell City.
“Saint Roland Magic Academy. We’ve arrived,” the driver’s hoarse voice called.
Ryan closed the thick volu 《Analysis of Interdiate Mana Constructs》, feeling as though both his brain and his backside had gone numb.
He rubbed his temples and looked across the carriage.
Cosette sat there like a startled quail, clutching the small cloth bundle on her knees with both hands. Her brand-new maid outfit was stiffly starched, which only made her appear even more rigid. Her hazel eyes were wide as she stared through the window at the constant stream of people and carriages in the plaza outside.
Her expression clearly said: Who am I? Where am I? I am terrified.
Ryan sighed inwardly.
Raising a child—starting on nightmare difficulty.
He lifted his book crate and equipnt case in one smooth motion and stepped down from the carriage. The crisp autumn air greeted him imdiately.
Yes. That was the sll of the academy.
Cosette hurried down after him, still hugging her cloth bundle. Then she awkwardly tried to move the several obviously heavy luggage bags from the carriage. She stretched out her thin arms and attempted to lift one, but the bag did not move at all. Instead, she staggered slightly, her face reddening with effort.
Ryan glanced back, silently reached out, and easily lifted the heaviest bag of books. His other hand still held his own case steadily.
“Take that one,” he said, nodding toward a lighter-looking bundle nearby.
Cosette’s face reddened further, half from exertion and half from embarrassnt. She softly murmured, “Mm,” switched to the lighter bundle, and hugged it against her chest.
With her head lowered, she followed closely behind him step by step, like a little chick terrified of losing sight of the hen.
The first thing that entered their view was not the towering spires or radiant barriers they might have imagined—though those did indeed exist in the distant skyline and the faint halo of magic above.
The most imdiate impact ca from the grandeur and bustle of the entrance plaza before them.
They were standing at the edge of an extrely wide square paved with massive white stones that resembled jade.
At the far end of the plaza stood two colossal archways, dozens of ters tall, carved entirely from gray-white magical stone.
They were not re stone structures. Across their surfaces flowed visible strands of pale blue Mana light, soft as liquid rcury. The patterns rotated slowly, brightening and dimming as they ford countless intricate rune arrays, silently proclaiming both powerful protection and ancient heritage.
Between the two archways there was no physical gate. Instead, a transparent barrier shimred there, the air slightly distorted like rippling water. Through it, one could faintly glimpse tree-lined avenues stretching toward different districts, rooftops of buildings in various architectural styles, and even several floating islands suspended in midair far away, wrapped in drifting clouds.
This was the main gate of Saint Roland Magic Academy—or rather, one of the entrance areas opened specifically for new students.
At this mont, the white plaza had beco a moving microcosm of high society filled with fantastical color.
Carriages of every variety—from noble vehicles adorned with elaborate family crests and drawn by four magnificent horses to practical but modest public carriages like the one Ryan and Cosette had taken—filled nearly every designated space in the square.
Young n and won wearing the academy’s uniform of deep blue trimd with silver stepped down from the carriages one after another. Most of them could not conceal their excitent, yet their bearing and mannerisms clearly revealed good upbringing and refined education.
Almost everyone had at least one attendant accompanying them. So even had two or three.
These attendants wore relatively uniform servant attire and were briskly unloading luggage from the backs of the carriages: heavy books, sturdy wooden chests filled with alchemical equipnt, and even specially sealed boxes containing personal items that faintly emitted magical fluctuations.
The air was filled with sounds—horses snorting, drivers shouting and chatting, luggage wheels rumbling over stone, young students speaking in hushed but excited voices with accents from all over the empire, and servants exchanging brief and efficient instructions as they moved baggage.
Cosette stepped down behind Ryan, her feet landing on the smooth, faintly warm stone pavent.
The sight before her instantly stole her breath. Her hazel eyes widened as she stared at the towering magical archways, the constant stream of elegantly dressed people, and the distant silhouettes of fantastical buildings she had only ever seen in dreams or heard exaggerated in wandering perforrs’ tales.
The overwhelming flood of information and the environnt so completely different from her past life left her mind almost blank.
Instinctively, she clutched the small bundle containing Ryan’s few personal belongings. Her fingertips turned slightly pale.
Her brand-new yet still sowhat loose maid outfit looked even more out of place among the well-trained and composed attendants around them.
Ryan quickly surveyed the surroundings, matching the scene before him with the ga settings and the knowledge from the original owner’s mories.
Saint Roland Magic Academy—the empire’s greatest magical institution, built with vast resources. It was not only a place for noble heirs to gild their reputations and expand their connections, but also the core institution where the empire selected and cultivated its highest magical talents.
Graduating from here with outstanding results ant at least the certification of a “Mid-Rank Mage,” along with a stepping stone into the inner circles of the Imperial Mage Association, the military, or the governnt.
The academy’s faculty was said to be among the empire’s finest. Rumor had it that the elusive headmaster, who rarely showed himself, was regarded as the pillar of the empire’s magical world, possessing unfathomable power.
Being admitted here itself symbolized recognition of one’s background, wealth, or talent.
Ryan calmly swept his gaze across the crowd in the plaza. In the depths of his gray-blue eyes there was little emotion, as though the grand and noisy scene of enrollnt before him were rely a play unrelated to himself.
He recognized several minor noble youths from the northern provinces in the fragnts of the original owner’s mories. There were many more unfamiliar faces as well—so returning students who had already studied here for several years, and others who were newly arrived freshn.
For the next few years, he would live and study alongside these people. In so sense, they would determine the final fate of the character “Ryan Velt”—whether he repeated the tragedy of the ga or carved out a path of survival.
He withdrew his gaze.
He glanced at Cosette, who was sweating slightly on her forehead yet stubbornly placing the final bag securely on the ground, then looked at the modest but by no ans shabby pile of belongings at his feet among the countless pieces of luggage around them.
“Let’s go,” he said briefly.
He picked up most of the luggage and stepped forward first, walking toward the two magnificent archways flowing with Mana light.
Cosette hurriedly grabbed the remaining bags. She nearly tripped over herself and ultimately had to carry them in two trips, dragging and clutching them sowhat awkwardly as she tried to keep up with the steady pace of the young master walking ahead of her with a straight back.
User Comments
0 comments from readers