Chapter 176: A Recommendation [2]

"Belozersky... you certainly have potential, and I’ll admit that I’ve been keeping an eye on you. But it’s still too early for you. Your circumstances are already unusual enough, and I don’t believe you have the experience necessary for the kind of work we handle."

"Which is exactly why I need the experience, sir. I need to bridge the gap between myself and my peers, and I believe the SkyRune Lab workshop can help me do that."

"Oh?"

Certainly, Ilya was an exceptional student.

It had only been a little over a month since the semester began, so Professor Antoine had not yet seen enough to make any definitive judgment about how far Ilya could eventually go as a wizard.

Still, among the many students attending his Advanced Magic Theory course, Belozersky had already become one of the names that Antoine found himself remembering whenever he reviewed their work.

His circumstances naturally made him stand out at first.

A student transferring from the Knight Department into the Magic Department was unusual enough, but doing so with considerably less formal magical education than most of his classmates should have placed Ilya at an obvious disadvantage.

Spell Construction was especially unforgiving in that regard, since students were expected to understand the principles behind a spell rather than simply demonstrate that they could cast one.

Yet his work over the past month had been consistently good.

Ilya was certainly not the most knowledgeable student in the course, and there were gaps in his education that became obvious whenever the class touched upon subjects his classmates had already encountered during their earlier studies.

What caught Antoine’s attention was how quickly those gaps disappeared once Ilya encountered them, because something that confused him during one lesson would often be properly incorporated into his work by the next.

His submitted work reflected the same tendency.

Rather than relying entirely on familiar spell structures, Ilya had shown a habit of examining individual components and questioning whether they were actually necessary for what he wanted to accomplish.

His solutions were not always the most elegant, and occasionally his lack of experience showed in ways that a student with a more conventional education would have avoided, but the reasoning behind them was rarely careless.

That alone had been enough for Antoine to remember his name among the students taking the course.

It was still early in the semester, however.

One month of promising coursework was one thing, while placing a student inside SkyRune Lab and expecting him to participate in actual workshop activities was a different matter altogether.

Antoine had students with considerably broader foundations, more years of study behind them, and enough experience that he could assign them a task without first wondering whether some basic piece of knowledge had simply never appeared in their education.

Ilya was talented.

Antoine had little doubt about that.

Whether talent could compensate for everything he had yet to learn was another question.

"What do you think SkyRune Lab’s objective is, then?"

"To open humanity’s eyes, sir."

"...Excuse me?"

It was such an absurd answer that Antoine’s eyes widened slightly, while Anders, who had been content to listen from behind his desk, turned toward Ilya with an equally confused expression.

Neither man seemed entirely certain whether Ilya was being serious, but if nothing else, it was an answer that had immediately caught Antoine’s attention.

"Open humanity’s eyes?" Antoine repeated. "To what, exactly?"

Ilya thought about the question for a moment.

"To everything we’ve been too limited to see."

"...."

The amusement gradually disappeared from Antoine’s face.

"Magic has existed for longer than any of us, but most people still spend their lives looking at whatever happens to be directly in front of them and assuming that’s all there is."

Antoine’s brows rose as Ilya continued.

"We learn the spells other people created, use theories other people proved, and look at the world through systems that generations before us decided were correct."

Anders remained quiet, listening intently.

"There isn’t anything wrong with that," Ilya continued. "We need those things. I wouldn’t know even a fraction of what I know now if other people hadn’t spent their lives discovering them first, but if everyone stops there, then magic will never become anything more than an inheritance passed from one generation to the next."

"And you believe SkyRune Lab is different?"

"I believe that’s what it wants to be."

"Oh?"

"The name itself gives it away, doesn’t it?"

"...?"

Ilya smiled. "SkyRune."

He looked up, as though there was something beyond the ceiling above them.

"People spent thousands of years looking at the sky before they even understood what was above them. They could see the stars every night, but seeing something and understanding it are completely different things."

Antoine’s fingers stopped moving.

"The stars were always there," Ilya continued. "Humanity simply hadn’t learned how to reach for them yet."

Anders glanced toward Antoine. The confusion had disappeared from the professor’s face.

For the briefest moment, Antoine Chastellain looked almost terrified. The reaction was so completely unlike him that even Anders seemed to notice something was wrong.

"So when I say SkyRune Lab exists to open humanity’s eyes," Ilya continued, "I’m not talking about showing people something that was hidden from them. I’m talking about teaching them to look beyond what they already believe they know."

"...."

Ilya had read enough about SkyRune Lab to understand that its work was difficult to place under a single branch of magic.

The workshop engaged with subjects that did not always have an obvious practical purpose, pursuing strange phenomena, unconventional applications, and questions whose answers could sometimes create even more questions than they resolved.

"If someone tells me the sky is the limit," Ilya continued, "then the first thing I want to know is what lies beyond it."

Antoine stared at him.

For several seconds, the professor said nothing. After another moment of silence, the corner of his mouth began to rise.

"That’s... an extraordinarily pretentious answer for a first-year student."

"I thought it was rather good."

"It was. That is why it was pretentious."

Anders finally laughed from behind his desk.

"Well, Antoine?"

"Don’t rush me."

"You asked him the question."

"And I’m considering his answer."

Antoine returned his attention to Ilya, examining him with more interest than he had shown at the beginning of their conversation.

Academic performance could tell him whether a student was capable of completing an assignment, but a workshop demanded something different, especially one like SkyRune Lab.

Knowledge could be taught.

Experience could be accumulated.

But curiosity was much harder to manufacture.

"...Belozersky, there will be people in the workshop who know more than you do, including students who have been studying magic for longer than you’ve seriously practiced it."

"I know that too."

"You’ll probably find yourself completely lost more than once."

"Then I’ll ask questions."

"And if nobody gives you the answer?"

Ilya smiled. "I’ll find it myself."

Antoine stared at him for another moment.

Then he sighed.

"You really do know what to say, don’t you?"

"I’ve been told I’m quite persuasive."

"I wouldn’t go that far."

Anders chuckled again, but Antoine ignored him and adjusted the documents beneath his arm before looking Ilya directly in the eyes.

"Very well. I’ll give you a chance."

Ilya’s smile widened.

"But don’t misunderstand me, Belozersky. A recommendation gets you through the door, and your little speech has convinced me that you might belong there."

Antoine raised one finger.

"Whether you remain in SkyRune Lab will depend entirely on what you do once you’re inside."

"That’s enough for me."

"I hope so."

Antoine turned toward Anders.

"And apparently I no longer need your recommendation."

Anders shrugged.

"Saved me the ink."

* * *

That night, Antoine returned home considerably more tired than usual.

The moment he stepped through the door, however, the sound of hurried footsteps came from farther inside the house, followed by a much slower pace as whoever was approaching apparently remembered that running through the halls was considered improper.

"Father, welcome home."

A young girl appeared a moment later. It was his daughter, Lucile Chastellain.

She was eleven years old and currently attending a preparatory school not far from their home, where she had already learned to speak with the politeness expected of a young noble lady.

Her teachers frequently praised her manners, and the additional lessons she received at home had only made her more articulate than most children her age, although none of that changed the fact that she was still eleven.

At school, Lucile knew when to sit properly, raise her hand before speaking, and address her teachers with the appropriate respect.

At home, particularly when there was nobody important around to impress, most of those manners tended to become less reliable.

She stopped in front of her father, Antoine, with her hands clasped behind her back.

"You’re late."

"Good evening to you too, Lucile."

"I said welcome home first."

"You did."

"Therefore, I was polite."

Antoine looked at his daughter.

Lucile looked back at him with complete seriousness. She managed to maintain the dignified expression for another two seconds before leaning to one side and inspecting him from head to toe.

"You look terrible, Father."

"Lucile."

"I meant tired," she immediately corrected herself. "You look exceptionally tired, Father."

"Much better."

"I don’t see how changing the word makes you look any less terrible."

Antoine sighed.

Lucile smiled, clearly pleased with herself, before stepping closer and taking hold of two of his fingers with one hand. It was a habit she had supposedly grown too old for several months ago, although that declaration had done little to stop her from doing it whenever nobody else was around.

"Was something difficult at the academy today?"

"Nothing particularly difficult."

"Then something annoying?"

"Several things."

"I knew it."

Lucile began walking with him, still holding his hand as she led him farther inside.

"I asked them to leave some dinner for you. I told them you would probably come home hungry because you forget to eat whenever you’re busy, although they said it wasn’t appropriate for me to make assumptions about Father’s habits."

"And what did you tell them?"

"That it isn’t an assumption if you do it all the time."

Antoine looked down at her.

"An excellent defense."

"Thank you."

Lucile nodded proudly, apparently taking the compliment entirely seriously.

They continued walking together, but after several steps, she glanced up at him again.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scrutinized his face, and Antoine immediately recognized the expression of a child who had just discovered something interesting and had no intention of leaving it alone.

"Something happened."

Antoine raised an eyebrow. "...I thought you said I looked tired?"

"You do, but you’re thinking about something."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because you make that face."

"What face?"

"That one."

Lucile pointed directly at him.

"So what happened, Father?"

"Why are you assuming anything happened?"

"Because you’re still making the face."

"...."

Antoine sighed again. For some reason, the words of a certain first-year student returned to him.

’The stars were always there. Humanity simply hadn’t learned how to reach them yet.’

His steps slowed.

Lucile noticed immediately.

"There." She pointed at him again. "You did it again."

"Did what?"

"The face."

"Lucile."

"Father."

Antoine looked down at his daughter.

"...."

"...?"

She looked back up at him, waiting expectantly.

For all the etiquette drilled into her since she had learned to speak, she was still eleven years old, and apparently no amount of noble education could overcome an eleven-year-old’s determination to learn something an adult was reluctant to tell her.

Antoine eventually smiled.

"I met an interesting student today."

Lucile’s eyes immediately brightened.

"A troublesome one?"

"Why is that your first assumption?"

"Because the interesting ones you talk about are usually troublesome."

Antoine considered that.

"...That’s surprisingly difficult to argue with."