Bainin
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Chapter 3: New Teacher
🕑 Added 2025-03-05 17:05:06 +0000 UTCAsterion smiled when his friend Theos waved at him, the black haired youth sporting a wide grin.
“Asterion! Took you long enough!” Theos yelled as he came within reach, his tone playful but loud enough to draw a few glances from the others.
Alistair came to a stop next Theos sharing his smile and giving Anysia a big smile which she shily retuned.
“Did you see the new teacher?” Asterion asked, glancing between his two friends.
Anysia nodded, but it was Theos who spoke up excitedly. “Yeah! He’s some grandpa in robes with one white eye,” he said, gesturing dramatically.
Asterion listened intently as Theos continued, describing the wizened old man as tall, with a short white-and-grey beard and long hair. “Oh, and he’s super nice!” Theos added with a grin. “But he’s human. I was hoping we’d get an elven teacher, like your mom.”
Asterion nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful. Everyone knew the best wizards weren’t human.
Because Theos and Anysia’s parents were friends with his mother and father, they had learned some magic alongside him. He’d been thrilled when Theos joined their lessons—Theos was his best friend, after all. While Asterion liked Anysia, she was too quiet for his tastes. With Theos, he could fight and play freely, without having to wait or hold back.
Their discussion was cut short by the ringing of the bell, signaling that class was about to begin. The trio hurried toward the building and up the stairs with the other children.
There were twelve children in their generation of the Lysandor family, a relatively high number, but the classroom had been built to accommodate twice that amount, leaving plenty of tables to choose from. Asterion, Theos, and Anysia chose seats in the middle, as the frontmost tables were filled by the more eager students, while the back was taken by those who preferred to avoid being called on by the teachers.
Asterion studied the teacher, who looked over the children with a kind smile, his one good eye flicking from one student to the next before meeting his own. It didn’t escape Asterion’s notice that the teacher’s gaze had briefly shifted from his pointed ears to the golden hair he had inherited from his mother.
Asterion, while not resenting his heritage, didn’t particularly enjoy the expectations the adults placed on him. Many had been disappointed when his first awakened power turned out to be gravity. He, however, thought it was an awesome ability, and his mother had assured him it would allow him to become a great battle mage. And when it came to magic, his mother was always right.
Asterion kicked his feet back and forth under the chair that was just a bit too big for him, waiting for the teacher to speak. He was about to whisper something to Theos when the old man stopped stroking his beard and clapped his hands together. The sound rang out far louder than expected, accompanied by a sudden gust of air that made some of his cousins and friends jump in surprise.
“Good morning, children,” the old man said with a warm smile. “I am Herald Seitz, but you can call me Herr Seitz, or simply sir, or Mr. Seitz.”
“I will be your new teacher for arithmetic, history, combat, and, of course, magic,” Herald added.
Excited whispers broke out among the children at the mention of magic. For most of them, the only magic they had learned was what their parents had taught them, and over half the generation had yet to experience their first awakening.
Asterion wondered what herr meant, guessing it was from the tongue of one of the fallen kingdoms that had once surrounded the Ferridan Republic.
Satisfied with the excitement, Sir Seitz paced behind his desk, leaning onto it with a small smile playing on his lips.
“To begin, I think it’s a good idea if we get to know one another,” Seitz said kindly. “We’ll start with introductions, and after that, I’ll allow you to ask as many questions as your hearts desire.”
This began a small round of introductions, with the teacher pointing at one child after another and occasionally asking a question. When he pointed at Asterion, a brief flicker of nerves tugged at him, but he quickly pushed it aside.
“I am Asterion Lysandor, son of Lyra and Kyros Lysandor. I like playing with my friends, sparring, drawing, and magic,” he said confidently.
Sir Seitz chuckled softly. “Ah, another battle mage in the making,” he remarked with a nod before moving on to Zena, who sat in front of Asterion in the frontmost row.
Asterion was a little surprised. He had expected his new teacher to ask him about his family or his magic, or to show more interest in him like most adults did. Instead, Sir Seitz seemed more focused on asking questions of the other children.
Asterion exchanged a look with Theos, who shrugged, before they turned their attention back to the teacher as he finished getting everyone’s names.
“Now then, do any of you have questions already?” Mr. Seitz asked.
Half the class, including Asterion, raised their hands, but none as quickly as Zena’s. Her hand shot up like lightning as she eagerly hopped in her chair, eliciting a chuckle from Mr. Seitz.
“Yes, Zena, what do you want to know?” he asked as the rest of the class lowered their hands.
Zena lowered her hand, her voice brimming with excitement. “When do we get to learn magic? And what kind of magic are you going to teach us?”
“Good question,” Mr. Seitz said, nodding. “I will begin by teaching all of you basic mana refinement and spellcasting techniques. Beyond that, I’ll help each of you understand and develop your powers.”
Excited whispers broke out, which Mr. Seitz soon interrupted with another clap of his hands, as he looked over the excited children.
“Alright, settle down. You can discuss this during breaks—for now, we’re still in class,” Seitz said, his tone firm but kind. “Now then, who here has already had their first awakening?”
Five of the children, including Asterion, lifted their hands while the rest kept their hands down. The excitement from those who hadn’t awakened a power noticeably dropped.
Mr. Seitz shook his head with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Everyone has at least one or two awakenings before their coming-of-age ceremony. I’m sure you’ll all discover your powers soon enough.” He scratched his beard thoughtfully before continuing.
“Do we have anyone with an Essencia of Strength?”
Theos’s hand shot up eagerly, his excitement impossible to miss.
“Ah, perfect,” Mr. Seitz said, nodding. “The ideal Essencia for a warrior, and one of the most common yet highly valued within the Republic. Tell me, Theos, did you awaken a strength power, or has another aspect manifested?”
“I can grab things, and they feel a lot lighter! My dad said it’s a strength power!” Theos said excitedly, grabbing the empty chair next to him and swinging it like a stick for emphasis.
“Ah, Titan Grip. Please put the chair down, Theos,” Mr. Seitz requested with a chuckle. “Titan Grip is actually one of the most desired powers. The Akashic Priests often classify it as a titan aspect rather than a pure strength aspect.”
“A common progression of this power is to either further reduce the weight of a held object or extend to worn equipment like armor, enabling them to not only use the biggest and heaviest weapons but armor,”
As Mr. Seitz wounded down for a moment, Zena raised her hand again.
“Yes, Zena?”
“What is an Akashic Priest?”
“Ah, an excellent question,” Mr. Seitz said, nodding thoughtfully. “Though it seems I’ll need to teach you all a bit more about history in the coming days and weeks.” He paused, stroking his beard. “There are three gods older than all others. The first is Gaia, the goddess of creation and life, who represents nature and the light. Her counterpart is Khaos, the god of the void and darkness. But there is a third, often forgotten, despite likely being the oldest of them all.”
The room grew quiet at the mention of Khaos. Every child knew who he was—the god who had almost swallowed their world whole. Asterion’s stomach tightened just hearing his name. They had been taught about the Battle of Halvheim, where Khaos’s greatest servants were slain or sealed, and his forces were driven back into the voidlands. But even though that was over 60 years ago, the voidlands still surrounded the Republic, cutting them off from the rest of the world.
Asterion often heard his parents talk about the ongoing battles and Khaos and his servants in hushed voices when they thought he couldn’t hear. But his ears, almost as sharp as his mother’s, always picked up more than they realized.
Asterion shuddered at the thought, but he was determined to grow strong. One day, he would accompany his father and protect him from the monsters that lurked in the voidlands.
If their teacher noticed the hushed whispers and worried expressions, he chose to ignore them as he continued.
“Akashic is the Librarian, the keeper, and creator of the Akashic Records—a tome that holds the collective knowledge, experiences, and events of all beings throughout time and all of existence,” Mr. Seitz explained. “He does not take sides or interfere, too preoccupied with recording all that is, was, and ever will be.
“His priests, however, have learned to navigate those endless records. They can guide others to visualize their progression in a more structured way,” he added, his tone reverent yet instructive.
Asterion frowned, raising his hand as a question formed in his mind.
“Yes, Asterion?” Mr. Seitz prompted.
“If these priests can help visualize our powers, why aren’t they more common?” Asterion asked.
“Ah, another excellent question,” Mr. Seitz replied. “Navigating and searching through another’s records isn’t easy—it’s a complex and demanding process. And while their abilities are valuable, their services are rarely requested. Many priests struggle to sustain themselves unless they are employed long-term by a great house or family.”
He paused, his expression turning serious. “There is also the matter of the Lord of the Void. He used the Akashic Records, drawing from them what information he needed, only to twist and corrupt the information to fit his servants’ needs.
“This has given the records an undeserved reputation as a tool of the enemy, which is nonsense. We, too, draw on the records for power, free of corruption, and we can use them as tools to monitor our growth and learn whatever we desire. Though,” he added with a wry smile, “many disagree with my assessment.”
Asterion mulled it over. The way Mr. Seitz described the Akashic Records, it didn’t make sense to shun them.
“I feel I may have let my emotions on the matter steer the conversation away from our main topic,” Mr. Seitz admitted with a small smile. “Do any of you know the phases of power and how many stages there are?”
Asterion looked around the room. Nobody had their hand raised high; instead, many of his classmates whispered among themselves, unsure what to say. His mother had explained to him a long time ago that powers grew like plants or trees, but he wasn’t sure if Mr. Seitz was talking about the same thing or if that was just an elven interpretation.
Slowly, he raised his hand, and his teacher gave him a nod to speak.
“My mother told me that powers grow like trees—you have to tend to them well, interact with them, understand them, and nourish them for them to grow big and strong,” Asterion said hesitantly.
“That is correct,” Mr. Seitz said with an encouraging nod, “but do you know the names and stages?”
Asterion lowered his hand, shaking his head in embarrassment.
“There’s no need to be ashamed,” Mr. Seitz said kindly. “In fact, I would have been surprised if any of you had known more.”
He then turned, grabbing a piece of chalk, and walked to the teaching board at the front of the room. With practiced ease, he began skillfully sketching the outline of a large tree.
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