The Perfect Knight and the Illusionist (BL)
Chapter 21: First Steps

Chapter 21: First Steps

MARIUS

What had gotten into me lately?

I had been restless in mind, volatile in temperament, and not fully in command of my body. I even failed to find Skylark—a common boy with probably no outdoor survival training—in the woods that were no bigger than perhaps five hundred paces in width and depth. When I finally gave up searching for him, at Briant’s insistence, I found that he had already returned to where the class was gathered, casually jogging in a group exercise.

Briant was right, I had to admit. I was agitated. The sheer unpredictability of this boy—and now Dorian—exposed my composure as more fragile than I had believed. Years of training—not quite wasted, far from it—were not enough. I simply had a lot more to learn.

I spent the rest of the physical training exercises in a strange state of trance. My body moved as it was accustomed to, performing and excelling more than others in running, jumping, sword-swing drills—everything that my muscles were trained for. Yet, my mind drifted, each time requiring greater effort from me to anchor myself back to something concrete that I knew wouldn’t betray me: my knuckles, my fist, the hardened bottoms of my feet as they hit the ground during a full sprint.

Lunchtime passed in a similar fashion. Bread and salad in the Academy’s dining hall. Plenty of water. Herbal tea. Small talk that I could control and navigate without much difficulty as Alexis, Dimitri, and Briant bantered. Thomas and Skylark ate separately from us, though. I saw them take their lunch outside the dining hall, heading toward the garden. They were with Isabelle, whom I heard was Thomas’s childhood friend.

A magic user. She could make the same shades of red and blue as Aunty Joan. And Skylark could do the same.

After lunchtime came the magic class with Sir Kvratchka. A very well-respected mage who started off as a Royal Knight himself but later dedicated himself to more scholarly activities.

We were then gathered on the training field again, in a more casual formation. All of us without an aptitude for magic were on one side, while the magic users—among whom Skylark was one—were gathered on the other side. Sir Kvratchka did say that those of us without talent were exempt from practical training, but for the first real exercise, we should attend and watch what our classmates could do, as, eventually, we would all be working in a team of Royal Knights with mixed talents.

The task seemed simple. Each student was made to create a small fireball or a water sphere, throw it, and hit a target of their choice. Five targets stood at increasing distances, from ten paces to five hundred.

While I had always been fascinated with magic, after seeing about fifteen students make similar types of fireballs and water spheres and hit the targets ranging from ten to twenty paces, with only one managing an impressive hit at fifty paces, I was starting to struggle again to concentrate, my eyes occasionally drawn to Skylark and my mind wondering what he would manage.

Beatrice, then, whom I’d gotten acquainted with on the first day and who had left me with the impression of being a confident lady, took her turn. She conjured up a water sphere that was the size of a head, which earned applause from the classmates, most of whom managed only something the size of a fist or two. But the real feat followed immediately. Instead of throwing it, she pointed both her palms towards the target, and the sphere shot forward at the speed of an arrow and hit the target that was two hundred paces away. The class erupted in a loud cheer, and even Sir Kvratchka clapped his hands and praised her. She acknowledged the reception with a modest nod.

After a few more students, it became Isabelle’s turn. She spread both her arms to each side, palms facing up. A small fireball and a water sphere appeared on top of each palm, after which she took a deep breath and launched them into the air. Both balls then made arcs towards the target—or, I came to realize, the targets—and the fireball landed on the nearest one at ten paces, and the water ball landed on the one at twenty paces. It wasn’t spectacular in the way Beatrice’s demonstration was, but it nevertheless showed impressive control and the use of dual magic that everyone appreciated and applauded.

Finally, it was time for Skylark to show his magic. There was a sense of anticipation as we all remembered the scene from his magic aptitude test. However, Skylark stood looking completely lost, as if he had no idea how to use a magic spell at all.

I was no more knowledgeable than the others about what was happening, but my reasoning told me that he had the aptitude, which was innate, but had perhaps never received training regarding how to use it.

It was at that moment that a well-dressed gentleman was seen approaching Skylark, exchanging a faint nod with Sir Kvratchka on his way. I noticed Skylark growing nervous as he saw the gentleman, and when the man got close, I was surprised to recognize his face as that of one of the guests who visited my Father occasionally—usually at night—but who had never been introduced to me. The gentleman then walked right up to Skylark and spent a long time whispering something into the boy’s ear, during which Skylark’s eyes darted around, and he nodded involuntarily.

After that, Skylark spread his arms wide, just as Isabelle had done, and conjured the same fire and water balls above his palms. He took a deep breath and launched them into the air, but the water ball disintegrated rather quickly, which made people giggle. The fireball, however, was flying—or more like floating—very slowly. It flew past the first target, the second target, and then the third target. It was excruciatingly slow and comical as it wobbled across the sky, so despite the remarkable distance the fireball flew, people couldn’t help laughing. Yet, it was in good spirit, with everyone cheering as if they were encouraging a baby taking its first steps.

Eventually, the fireball dropped down toward the fourth target at two hundred paces away, almost hitting it, but ultimately fizzling out just before impact, evoking a collective "aww." Nevertheless, Skylark received applause that was more welcoming and louder than anyone else’s, and a pat on his back from the gentleman, who walked away without saying anything further.

When my eyes returned to the boy after seeing the gentleman leave, though, I noticed that Skylark wasn’t feeling well again. He didn’t exactly faint, but his legs were wobbly, and he sat on the grass as if he could no longer stand. I thought about the last time I took him to the infirmary, but before I could say or do anything, Sir Kvratchka called out to Dimitri,

"Dimitri! Take him to the infirmary."

I wanted to say I would help too, but my tongue felt as if it was paralyzed, and my feet were rooted to the ground. I could only watch as Dimitri helped the struggling Skylark toward the Academy’s main building.

I didn’t like it.

Not at all.