Capítulo 19: Lightning Griffon
"While we are on our way, why don't you all open the envelopes Lady Nerea gave you before we left?" Count Lark suggested, seeming more interested in the letters than anyone else. Tista and Trion nodded while Leon yawned, and Lith hesitated.
"Why don't you open yours too?" Solus asked.
"I'm not. That stingy old hag just gave me a piece of paper. I bet it's a list of souvenirs she wants me to buy for her," Lith grumbled.
Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he took out the small envelope. Inside was a brief letter, proving Lith had lost his bet.
"Dear Lith,
Now that you are going to a Magic Academy, away from the prying eyes of your parents, you deserve to know the truth. Chore magic holds a forbidden spell that I never taught you. Now you are old enough to know."
The letter included a precise description of how to use darkness magic on himself to avoid unwanted consequences from intimacy with girls—a birth control spell. It ended with a light-hearted note:
"Remember to always be a gentleman and have fun! You'll thank me later.
With love, Nana"
"What a dirty old lady. I'm not even twelve," Lith laughed out loud. The thought of Nana being concerned about his sex life was hilarious.
The others had similar letters, except for Tista, whose note included instructions on how to cripple a man's manhood while delivering the greatest amount of pain. Reading it, everyone felt a chill and instinctively covered themselves. Tista, however, smiled happily; to her, Nana was like a grandmother, and the letter showed how much she cared.
Leon's letter was slightly different. In addition to the same instructions as Lith's, Nana advised him to keep his mood in check. Leon smiled slightly, appreciating the grumpy old lady's concern.
He thought to himself, "How I wish I could awaken you too," but knew it was impossible. Her body was heavily attuned to a still mana core, and any attempt to awaken her could result in her death or, worse, turning into an abomination.
Leon sighed and closed his eyes to sleep. By the time he woke up, they were already at Lightning Griffon Academy. The sight was impressive: an enormous castle straight out of a medieval engineer's dreams. It was difficult to see clearly from a distance, but the academy was surrounded by a vast forest that stretched as far as the eye could see.
"That explains why it's so far from populated areas. It's basically a county of its own. The forest may even be larger than the Trawn woods," Lith thought.
Leon glanced at the academy and looked away, thinking, "I have better things in my Dreamspace." Tista and the others were similarly unimpressed, comparing the academy to their grand magical castle, which was far more impressive in their eyes.
They boarded what looked like a bubble cart that took them from the edge of the forest to the academy. As they traveled, they observed the massive forest, larger than their Trawn woods, now ruled by four evolved magical beasts. Aside from the original three Leon had evolved five years ago, he had recently added a Storm Eagle to his domain. Leon had selected three older beasts on the verge of death, and only one successfully evolved. The others either perished or turned into abominations, which Reaper easily dispatched with his dark magic.
Their home was now protected by these four powerful monsters, each mastering their natural elements through daily practice with the siblings. The bubble cart landed on a balcony before dissipating. A young woman in a magician's robe awaited them, guiding them through magical escalators and corridors before leaving them in the Headmistress's antechamber. She spoke via a small communicator amulet the entire time, issuing orders about various tasks.
Both Lith and Leon sensed trouble. From their past experiences, they could tell where this was heading. Still, they kept silent, observing the situation unfold. They were soon led to an overly decorated room and told to wait. Leon, catching on to the situation, went to sleep, which made Count Lark frown, but he said nothing.
When the Count woke him, he looked visibly stressed. He had waited long enough to understand the message.
"Don't say a word. If we want to salvage this, we need tact and diplomacy. Leave everything to me," Count Lark whispered.
The Headmistress's office was much less tacky than her antechamber, resembling a typical principal's office. She was an elderly woman, at least as old as Nana, but time had been kinder to her. Her face was wrinkled, but her eyes were full of life. Unlike Nana, she seemed poised for a long life and stood straight.
Her hair was mostly gray with hints of yellow. She wore a robe in the academy's colors, light blue with bright yellow—possibly gold—decorations. The fabric's weave made it seem like her movements were wind flowing through the sky, with the gold appearing and disappearing like sudden lightning. She greeted them warmly, but Lith sensed no genuine warmth.
"Dear Count, it's been too long!" she exclaimed, extending her hand.
"You are too kind. It's my fault for not bringing enough promising youths," the Count responded with a perfect poker face. All traces of stress vanished as he spoke calmly, as if meeting an old friend.
"Please, have a seat. I apologize for the long wait; this is the busiest time of the year," the Headmistress said, the apology sounding insincere.
"There's no need to apologize; I completely understand. Now, if you don't mind, let's get straight to business. I don't want to waste your precious time."
The Count took out a folder containing a chronicle of the siblings' accomplishments and their official merits. The Headmistress pushed it back.
"No need. We've done a full background check on every applicant. I must say, you brought me a really interesting group of siblings," she said, eyeing them all. She frowned for a moment, noticing their lack of anxiety or nervousness. They all seemed indifferent, especially the boy with rainbow eyes, who looked at her with clear contempt.
"Just because they've learned a bit of magic, they think they're superior," she mused inwardly before glancing back at Count Lark.
"You see, Lark, they're all outstanding, however..." She paused dramatically.
"However?" Count Lark prompted, following her lead.
"Unfortunately, they don't meet the requirements for a scholarship. I'm truly sorry."
The Count turned pale. "May I ask why? Talent, skill, heart—I'd say they're the best I've ever brought here."
"Of course, you deserve to know. The real issue isn't with your protégés but rather with their mentor," the Headmistress explained, leaning back in her chair as if delivering a final verdict.
"Excuse me?" Blood rushed back to the Count's face.
"Nerea is a fallen mage, akin to a disowned child of the academy, if not the whole Mage Association. Just as nobles are forbidden to help one of their own who has been disowned, the same applies to us—or at least to me."
"What?!" The Count's face turned bright red with anger. "Lady Nerea has protected and helped Lustria County for years while everyone else did nothing! These young people saved my life and my family. They acted in self-defense, and you're willing to ruin their futures for petty revenge? For politics?" He pointed at LeonLeon and others.
"How dare you speak to me like that in my office!" the Headmistress retorted, her eyes glowing with power.
"I dare! I double dare and call this bullsh*t!" Lith never imagined the Count to be such a brave fighter.
"You're sacrificing not one but four powerful mages for your own political gain! Everyone, let's go. The air stinks in here," the Count declared. Before leaving, he turned back and yelled, "This isn't over! I'll make sure everyone knows how far the Lightning Griffon Academy has fallen. You'll never see a single copper coin from my County or any of my retainers again. And by the way, he's the inventor of the chessboard on your desk."
The door slammed behind them, cutting off any rebuttal.
"Man, seriously? So much for tact and diplomacy. You're just a small cog in a big machine. Your threats are nothing but wishful thinking," the Headmistress sneered, returning to her paperwork.
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