บท 7: Mentality
The Department of Astromancy was one that had never attracted Alaric's attention, the studies it focused on were non-combat focused, which, unironically enough, had been the focus of any and all studies he'd committed himself to while at the Clock Tower.
However, Alaric understood that acquainting himself with it's members, faculty and students, was necessary. Marisbury Animusphere was a magus, he would only employ people he could 'trust', rather, people he could influence. Making inroads with prospective comrades and grasping how they ticked was something Alaric determined a priority.
"Do you not like how this place looks?" Alaric walked with his head held high and curiously regarded Jeanne D'Arc, or as he'd recognised, 'Joan of Arc', "I agree if so, the vibe is creepy. I'll never get why magi obsess with the past so much."
Much of the Clock Tower was centuries, if not over a millennium old, and well preserved enough that not even a brick had been shifted from itself. This gave it a likeness to ancient culture that the progressive Alaric could never appreciate.
Jeanne had forgone her 15th century armaments for more modern attire. She wore slightly transparent dark tights and a grey sweater that went below her short navy skirt to fit in with the winter aesthetic. As he'd come to learn, when not in her 'battle mode', Jeanne D'Arc was somewhat simple, she'd taken to staying materialised once she learnt it didn't tax him.
"Erm... no, it's even nostalgic... in a way." Jeanne answered in a strained way, glancing at the few students that lingered in the well lit but dull hallways, "It's just, I have had some bad experiences."
Alaric narrowed his gaze and nodded, "Oh right. Must be hard, walking amidst people that question your core beliefs. What do you wanna do then?" A small smirk formed on his face, "Kill them all? They're magi anyway."
"No, no. Why would you even consider that an option?" Jeanne trembled at his words, because there was no way for her to not know he meant it, "I appreciate your sentiment but, these people had nothing to do with it."
Alaric opened his mouth to answer but she interrupted him, "And besides, I... I recall how even then, some turned their eyes away. And that kind man, who gave me a cross then. I hope the Lord blessed him with a happy life." A graceful smile gradually came to adorn her lips, one that left Alaric silent and confused.
How could one die in the manner she had, burned as a heretic, and not hate those who wronged her.
He sighed and raised his hands in surrender, "Saints, I don't get it."
"We're not so different, Master." Jeanne stared at Alaric with big eyes, "If, God forbid, you were to lose your life at this very moment. What would you regret the most?"
Alaric sighed and hastened his pace, not answering the question. The amused smile on his servant's face however, told that she already knew his answer.
.
Alaric and Jeanne entered one of the classrooms, reminiscent more of a lecture hall with it's pitched floor and seating designed to accommodate nearly a hundred students at a time, "Look for a twelve year old, olive hair, golden eyes." Alaric spoke plainly but then stopped himself, "I just want to talk to her."
"... Understood." Jeanne gracefully hopped onto one of the wooden tables and used it as a pad to propel herself to the chandelier which she caught with one hand and hung freely. She looked around for a moment and nodded to herself before letting go and landing gently on the dark wooden floor, "I've found her."
"Geez, this is why New Agers are so..."
The few students that lingered that day were predominantly nobility, and they weren't too surprised by her behaviour. She was accompanying the degenerate from the Holy Church, behaving like an uncivilised ape was expected of her.
"This New Ager has a higher rank than you, so go back to diddling to books." Alaric cut off the insult with one of his own, drawing a sharp gasp.
Jeanne ignored the matter entirely, instead, she seriously addressed her Master, "She's talking to a dark haired man wearing green... Master, I advise caution. He feels off, dangerous."
The commotion caused, however, was enough for said man to notice Alaric and make his way over with a narrow eyed, amiable smile, "Ah, if it isn't Alaric von Dietrich, causing a commotion as always I see." He tipped his hat and bowed slightly in greeting, "Lev Uvall."
"Call me Alaric. It's flattering to know one such as yourself knows one such as I." Alaric responded amicably, masking his suspicion, and signalled for Jeanne to drop her caution with a hand behind his back, "It's rare to see the famed indoor chairman out and about. What brings you here?"
'Lev' waved his hand in dismissal and smiled wider, "Oh don't be, it would be foolish to leave oneself ignorant to you. It is a daunting thing you see, to know that my life's work is bare before you should I slip even momentarily..." He paused strangely and put a hand to his chin. Genuine confusion flashed through his eyes, "As for what I was... Hmm... That's strange, I...I can't seem to recall."
"Well I'm sure you'll remember soon enough." Alaric feigned concern, "I think you might need a bit of rest. Research can be taxing on the mind."
"Yes, yes. I think I'll do that."
"What was that, Master?" Jeanne questioned once the man had left, "Did you tamper with his mind?"
"No, I'd never do that." Alaric spoke quickly. He didn't want a misunderstanding, he greatly disliked the notion of bending someone's will through magecraft, "I doubt I could have. That, my dear, was a case of a troubled mind."
"...What?"
"He's got problems in the head, he don't tick the same way we do..." Alaric saw that she still didn't understand and tapped his forehead, "His head is all messed up inside."
"And how do you know that so surely?" It was a cruel thing to address someone in such a way.
Alaric smirked at that, "I stalked him for a while, I wanted his magecraft..."
"... I see." Jeanne nodded slowly and lowered her head, "It seems my advice was unnecessary then. I apologise." She closed her eyes to calm herself down, attempting to settle the immense sense of foreboding that Lev had radiated passively.
Alaric lightly tapped the top of her head, "No need to mull over it. We came here for something else." He curiously observed the young girl sorting her books and noted her mannerisms, "... This is going to be problematic."
.
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