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TO&FQ: Book 2 - Chapter 26 (RAW)
🕑 Added 2025-04-03 14:17:40 +0000 UTCChapter 26 - Demonstrations
Pitching is the art of instilling fear.
- Sandy Koufax.
The trick to great fashion lies in daring to be different—distinctive enough to command attention, yet never so bizarre as to invite ridicule. This unspoken rule of standing out but not alienating is as true in the animal kingdom as it is among civil society, and for most people, it poses a tricky balance. But for the young girl studying her reflection in the full-length mirror, had she been wearing plain cardboard, she would have still outshone the stars in the sky.
By now, her mind and spirit had fully merged into her new body. She marveled at the exquisite harmony; the sweet, untouched innocence woven seamlessly with the bold, provocative curves of burgeoning womanhood. Seraphina could easily see how such beauty and form could stir a man’s deepest instincts, making him ache to both shield and devour her in the same breath.
Her choice of attire was of paramount importance for the upcoming event. The First Year Ball was set to act almost like a debutante ball for Lady Seraphina de Sariens, heir to the Sariens Duchy and the almost-queen-in-waiting. Whispers would follow her every move, so each detail had to be meticulously chosen, from the cut of her gown down to the choice of her shoes.
Even her hair would be cause for rumour. To have cut so short was almost unheard of for a highborn lady. The Lady de Sariens had orchestrated a quiet rumor campaign through the staff in “Milly’s” company, letting the whispers spread far and wide: Seraphina’s bold haircut was a gesture of solidarity with the common folk. In addition to this, she was the only noble willing to sell grain at a fair price since the fires, further fueling her status among the common people.
She smiled to herself as her fingers ran across the cloth before her. Master Wilforte’s skill with fabric and needle was unparalleled. He had presented two of his finest creations for the occasion: one, a striking red gown with alluring, exposed shoulders; the other, a pastel pink piece that clung to her form before flaring in the Empire style, a high slit tastefully revealing her shapely legs. Seraphina wondered if that boldness might teeter on the edge of improper, though a wry smile suggested she relished the idea.
Delicate black kitten heels had already been decided on. Black was the black, and black, after all, was elegantly versatile. She recalled with amusement the ungainly strides of Meridian City’s ladies, teetering on their heels and praying not to trip, and she was determined to demonstrate just how effortlessly such footwear could be worn by someone with true poise.
“What do you think, Eloise?” Seraphina asked, glancing at her lady-in-waiting. The doll-like girl wore a carefully schooled expression, but there was no hiding the anxious flutter of her long lashes.
“It is rather bold, Lady Seraphina.” Eloise’s voice was soft as she twisted a loose raven-dark strand between her fingers.
“Good,” Seraphina purred, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “I intend to make quite the statement. Now, Eloise—the red or pink?”
Eloise took a breath, weighing her words. “If I were choosing for myself, I’d lean toward the pink. But for you… if you truly wish to stand out, the red dress will be dazzling. Perhaps pair it with a fur wrap to give just a hint of your shoulders instead of baring them completely?”
A faint frown shadowed Seraphina’s otherwise perfect features as she mulled over her lady-in-waiting’s suggestion. “Yes,” she conceded with a graceful nod. “A little fur to ward off the autumn chill—and, as you said, it would go wonderfully with the red. Why thank you, Eloise.”
Her hand drifted up to her short blonde hair. With a decisive, final glance in the mirror, Lady Seraphina de Sariens allowed herself the smallest smile. Tongues would wag and hearts might flutter—exactly as she planned.
***
The rest of the week passed without much incident. A steady cycle of lessons, practice, and more lessons. What little free time she had was spent assisting Miriam, answering letters, and doing assignments—though she steadfastly refused to call them homework, lest the word itself invite that evil from her old world.
Haze was also doing well, her mastery of the Chordrelle growing by leaps and bounds in one of the cultural centers of Aranthia. What was a bit disconcerting was the fact that she had acquired a taste for the finer things in life and had asked for an increase in her stipend. An increase that Seraphina ultimately approved of when she found out that Haze would be playing at the ball.
And, of course, she practiced her new Crystal Magic whenever her limited mana allowed. The spell itself was rather disappointing: it summoned only a pinkish shard of crystal that, at best, a generous liar might call a dagger. Naturally, she avoided practicing in the Dullstone-lined rooms of the tower—that would have been both silly and a waste of time. Instead, she practiced whenever and wherever she could spare ten points of mana. The repetition, while tedious, proved surprisingly fruitful. Not only did she manage to raise the spell to level two, but after one of her afternoon naps, she finally acquired the much-needed skill: Mana Regeneration. She almost leaped for joy when she found out after taking a nap to restore her depleted Mana via the Rest skill.
As for the shards, with no real use for them, she simply fed them to a very enthusiastic Cornelia, who seemed to enjoy them immensely for reasons Seraphina couldn’t begin to guess. Then again, Cornelia enjoyed eating most things.
With the creature growing at a rapid pace, Seraphina could no longer conceal her. She was forced to file the necessary paperwork for permission to keep a familiar on school grounds. Ordinarily, this would have been a slow and bureaucratic ordeal, but a generous donation towards rebuilding one of the Academy's wings, coupled with a demonstration of Cornelia’s obedience, expedited the process.
Seraphina still remembered when Cornelia had been small enough to carry everywhere. Now, however, the serpent had grown to the size of a very large python. One might expect such a creature to cause quite a stir in the dormitories, but the girls had quickly accepted her presence. This culture, unlike her own, had no real prejudice against snakes themselves, and a white snake in particular was seen by some as a messenger of the Divines.
They all knew the white snake belonged to Seraphina and were well aware that Cornelia was the reason pests had been reduced to a comfortable zero. In fact, Seraphina had even caught some of the girls sneaking food to the greedy serpent after discovering she could eat just about anything.
Checking in on Frest, she found him settling into his role as a teacher—perhaps a little too well. She had to remind him that he was there primarily to protect her interests. To her surprise, she’d even seen him strolling through the gardens from time to time with Miss Templeton, of all people.
Seraphina had no real love for her homely homeroom tutor, but even she thought Daniella could have done better than Frest. The young noblewoman couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Daniella were to ever learn of Frest’s rather dubious background. After all, she was minor nobility.
And now the day had dawned for the ball. Truth be told, a guilty part of her was actually looking forward to it. One undeniable perk of this world was its abundance of attractive men—a deliberate design choice she had insisted upon, not for selfish reasons, of course, but because beautiful people sold products. Anyone who thought otherwise was simply a loon.
The ball was scheduled for that evening, which meant she still had a full day of school to endure. Excitement buzzed through the corridors, and students chattered incessantly whenever teachers weren’t around to silence them.
However, there was one class in which no idle gossip would be tolerated: Magister Belfrost’s “Basic” Spell Theory. The atmosphere in that room was oppressive as he surveyed them like a drill sergeant.
“Now,” he said, strolling up and down the rows, “I trust you understand why the mastery of your Path is called Control? To deny but also accept and command!”
A boy in the back timidly raised his hand.
“Yes, Peter?” Belfrost snapped.
“Petrio, sir,” the boy corrected. “I don’t know about that, but I was just wondering… what is your Path?”
Belfrost grunted. “Peter is a good, strong name. As for me, I master the Wind and the Wave—Air and Water.”
A collective gasp filled the room. Mastering even one element was rare enough; mastering two was practically legendary. Especially the Wind, the most dangerous of all that brought with it swift madness. Several students marveled at having such an elite teacher, but Seraphina was unsurprised. She knew exactly how the Magister had managed it: the man was predictably cheating.
“But that’s neither here nor there,” Belfrost continued. “I want to see the fruits of your practice. Show me what you’ve managed to do in a week.”
He scanned the class, then barked, “You! Melissa!”
“It’s Melisiandre, sir…” came a soft reply.
“Is your name worthy of the annals of Aranthia?” he countered acidly. “Is the useless thing that is your name so important? Just show us what you can do, Melissa.”
The poor girl looked ready to cry, then shook her head in sudden determination. She began to chant, and Seraphina almost smelled fresh earth, felt the dampness of forest loam. The girl continued, and vines sprouted from her hands like serpents, blooming into flowers.
“Nature,” Belfrost remarked. “Not bad for a new whelp. But you take too long to find your magic. Focus your control; fill it with your intent. Be cautious, though… do not surrender to the gentle Green.”
Shyly, the girl smiled at the praise. Belfrost moved on, testing each student’s progress. Most only managed to manifest a bit of their element, to which he responded with disapproval. Then it was Fleur’s turn. She summoned a small ball of water, though it wavered in shape. At Belfrost’s urging, she tried firing it at a clay target, only for it to fall short of the mark. Still, the Magister saw potential and pushed her until she nearly fainted.
“Only by pushing yourself can you achieve true progress,” he proclaimed, nodding in self-satisfaction as it were he who had accomplished something great.
Next up was Este Lize, the Living Saint of the Silver.
“You claim to be blessed by the myriad Paths,” Belfrost said, his words weighted with meaning and portent. “The Cardinal himself says you are a prodigy. but you must prove you can command so many wild servants at once. Come, child. Show me. What color shall your magic take?”
Este Lize offered a demure bow, her pale features painted, with what Seraphina recognized as, false serenity. “I will do my best,” she said. “Though I doubt my gifts compare to my peers.”
Seraphina found the girl’s feigned humility quite simply infuriating.
Este Lize began to speak to Mana, and the world answered. Seraphina watched, reminded once again of the dangerous rival set against her. As the story’s main character, Este Lize possessed a “cheat” skill, allowing her to master the world’s elements with consummate ease.
She called first to the mercurial Wind. It whipped around her in a localized whirlwind, making everyone’s robes flutter. In her words, Seraphina heard the storm’s restless spirit, its longing to be unbound. But Este Lize didn’t stop there; she next summoned raging Fire—simultaneously, no less. Her chant rose to a crescendo, and in fusing these two wild elements, she shaped Lightning, the element of the Withered Tree of Heaven.
A crackling sphere of lightning formed around her.
“Show me the flower of destruction it can bring!” Belfrost roared, eyes gleaming with a hungry fervor. “I must see it!”
Este Lize regarded him with a look of mild disgust but obliged, aiming the ball of lightning at a target dummy. White lines shot forward with a deafening thunderclap, blasting the target to pieces. Debris flew in all directions, but Belfrost’s Wind barrier shielded the class.
“Amazing! I have never seen such Control in one so young,” he breathed in genuine awe.
Seraphina ground her teeth, the hussy had learned how to Dual Cast. She wasn’t meant to be able to do that until well after the Academy arc.
“Your words are too kind, Magister. A fluke, truly,” Este Lize replied with a slight curtsy. It was the only movement Seraphina found flawed: too quick, her posture off.
The rest of the class ooh-ed and ahh-ed.
“Magnificent,” Belfrost declared, rubbing his chin. “I doubt anything else today will compare. Though we do have one more who has yet to show us their progress… De Sariens! Your turn.”
“You may be my teacher,” Seraphina replied icily, “but I expect a certain degree of decorum, Belfrost.”
He laughed dryly. “Such bold words for one so weak in her Path. And it is a weak path, at that. Will you run to your parents? Do you think their wealth and power can shield you here from your own failure? You failed when you chose Crystal. And, I will remind you, you’re not the first spoiled brat I’ve taught.”
That was enough. Seraphina’s anger reached an icy, implacable point. “A word with my mother would be more than enough, Magister,” she said, each syllable laced with raw venom. “Not even you, in all your arrogance, could stand against a Pillar of the Kingdom. And I am her true daughter.”
In that moment, the young girl meant everything that she said.
Belfrost blanched. Fear flickered in his eyes, and Seraphina knew she had him. She didn’t want to use her mother as a bludgeon, but the man had earned it.
“Very well, Miss de Sariens,” he said, deflating. “Show us your great power.”
She ignored him and summoned magic in a heartbeat, with no incantation or words of power. In her hand was Crystal made manifest, shimmering with lethal clarity. In a graceful motion, she kicked up a leg, perfectly straight, then brought it down, throwing the jagged crystalline blade with stunning speed. The projectile streaked across the training hall, flying on the wings of her cold fury, and slammed into its target. The dummy disintegrated in a thunderous spray of shards. The walls behind it, made of sturdy Dullstone, cracked beneath the shard’s raw, explosive impact, leaving a ragged hole in a section of wall.
Both Belfrost and Este Lize stared in stunned silence. Seraphina met their gazes coolly, fighting back a satisfied smirk.
You have learned Power Throw (lvl.1)
You have learned Crystal Dagger (lvl.3)
“This was surely a fluke,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I suppose I surprise myself sometimes.”
