บท 47: Anticipation

The question draws me out of my silent observation, prompting me to step forward with a sense of purpose.

"I am, Headmaster," I declare, bowing respectfully. As the weight of everyone's attention shifts towards me, I can't help but feel a tinge of anticipation. It's not often that I find myself in the spotlight, overshadowed by more vocal and prominent figures within the academy. But now, as the patron of Obsidian Order, it seems my quiet existence is about to change. Sigh.

The headmaster's genuine surprise at my revelation is palpable, reflecting the oversight that often accompanies the realm of enchantment. Ah he forgot about me, happens often not that I mind. I love the peace.

"Ah, Xavier?" the headmaster responds, his tone reflecting a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. It's clear that my sudden emergence into the spotlight has caught him off guard, but there's a hint of interest in his demeanor.

"Interesting indeed. We'll need to speak further about this," he adds, his words signaling a shift in our interaction. As the implications of my newfound status sink in, I can't help but feel a sense of both excitement and apprehension.

As a club patron, I'm privy to some intriguing perks, but they come with their own set of challenges. The envy in the glances directed my way is palpable, fueled by the knowledge that any remarkable achievement by a member of my club reflects positively on me. This dynamic fuels a subtle yet relentless competition among patrons, which inevitably trickles down to the students themselves. A vicious cycle. Tavill.

"Understood." I respond with a bow.

The remainder of the meeting passes in a blur of protocols and administrative matters. It's the usual routine, nothing out of the ordinary. As soon as it concludes, I find myself approached by a familiar face – Mercy Stormfeather.

"Xavier, you've been scarce," she remarks, her voice laced with a hint of playful reproach.

"Duties keep me occupied," I reply stoically, maintaining a polite distance. Mercy's attempts at flirtation are well-intentioned, but they've never quite resonated with me.

"Don't be such a stickler," she chides gently, her violet eyes sparkling with amusement. She reaches out to touch my chest, but I instinctively step back, avoiding her advances. Her disappointment is evident, though she quickly recovers with a pout.

"I must see the headmaster," I interject abruptly, excusing myself from her company and making a swift departure. Mercy, a descendant of the prestigious House of Seas, possesses undeniable beauty and charm – qualities that have made her a coveted figure among the male populace of Tavill. However, her persistent interest in me only adds to the dislike I'm covered in.

As I make my way to the headmaster's office, I can't help but lament the complications that arise from my own appearance. The price of beauty is steep indeed.

I stare at the bubbling glowing purple potion in front of me, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. Alchemy, without a doubt, is no walk in the park. It demands precision, focus, and an unwavering attention to detail. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and the entire concoction could go awry. It's a delicate dance of flame and ingredient, each step requiring utmost concentration.

As I exhale deeply, I can't help but marvel at the complexity of the process. The specific heat, the precise timing, the careful dilution – it's a mentally and physically taxing endeavor.

With a weary sigh, I rub my neck and stretch, feeling the strain of the day's work settling into my bones. Deciding to call it a night, I clean up my workspace and get some shut eye.

Tomorrow marks the beginning of the final end-of-year examinations – the culmination of months of rigorous study and preparation. It's been a whirlwind month since our departure from the tower, filled with endless assignments and responsibilities.

I can't help but feel a pang of longing for Nathaniel, my beloved partner. Amidst the chaos of our busy schedules, we've barely had time for each other. There have been days when our paths barely crossed, when our conversations were reduced to fleeting moments in passing. I miss the lighthearted banter, the shared laughter – the simple joys of being together.

As I prepare to retire for the night, I make a mental note to remind Nathaniel of his promise of dates and relaxation once the exams are over. After all the hard work and exhaustion, we both deserve a little indulgence and quality time together.

Exiting the practice room, I navigate the familiar corridors of House of Shadows, my mind still abuzz with the intricacies of alchemical concoctions. Nathaniel's absence doesn't go unnoticed, but I know all too well the demands that have been placed on him recently. His determination to create a mana-powered pen for enchantment has consumed much of his time, despite his initial assumption that it would be a simple endeavor.

Chuckling to myself at his naivety, I make my way to our shared room. Sending a surge of mana into the door, it obediently swings open, revealing the quiet solitude within. Nathaniel's absence is keenly felt, but I'm too exhausted to dwell on it for long. The prospect of a hot shower and a soft bed beckons irresistibly.

As the warm water cascades over me, I feel the tension of the day's trials begin to ebb away. Sinking onto the inviting embrace of the bed, I surrender to the embrace of sleep, my mind finally finding respite from its restless wanderings.

Morning comes all too soon, the soft light filtering through the window serving as a gentle reminder of the day ahead. Despite my best efforts to steal a few more precious moments of rest, I reluctantly rouse myself from slumber. Nathaniel's sudden entrance into the room, disheveled and harried, breaks the tranquility of the morning.

Our brief exchange of kisses and hurried preparations is a testament to the whirlwind of activity that has become our daily routine. With a shared glance and a silent understanding, we part ways, each headed towards our respective examinations.

As I step into the bustling corridors of Tavill Academy, my heart feels heavy with the weight of anticipation. The looming specter of exams hangs heavy in the air, all students I've come across seem to be in a state of anxiety even the usual brawls, laughter, and flying deadly weapons are silenced.

The atmosphere within Tavill Academy is charged with tension as the final exams are finally here.

The pressure to perform well and meet the lofty expectations set by both themselves and their peers weighs heavily on their shoulders. Every whispered conversation, every furrowed brow, and every hurried step speaks volumes about the gravity of the situation.

But amidst the palpable anxiety, there's also an unspoken understanding that failure is not an option. In a school where excellence is the norm and mediocrity is not tolerated, the consequences of falling short are dire. Those who don't make the cut face the very real possibility of expulsion, their dreams of a future within the hallowed halls of Tavill dashed in an instant.