The Ghost of Vermil-Chapter 39: James II

James was awake before the sunrise — a habit that was a relic of his time in the Darkseed Mountains. Most cursed beings and demonic creatures prowled the woods in the dark, and it was before the break of dawn that they receded to their lairs. James and his party would stalk them, then as the creatures let their guard down to rest, they would finish them in one blow.

It was also not too uncommon to lose sleep during their missions. They could never tell when their adversary would pounce on them, so they seldom succumbed to the comfort of sleep. Sometimes, days would go by without a vile creature in sight, but they would be exhausted all the same. The Darkseed forests were unforgiving. Their supplies would not last as long as they had planned, always. Not many fruit trees and berries thrived in the cold north, so they took to hunting hares and elks and any moving beast that they could feast on. They fought monsters and hunger both; more often than not, the latter caused their retreats.

As he seeped his coffee looking down at the autumn trees in his bed robe, he realized how he preferred these dull mundane mornings. Although he missed those times, he had no desire to come back to such a life.

But it was not to say that being a professor in Demach was free of difficulties.

"When did I say you were supposed to submit it?" said James as Wilcan slid a parchment on his desk, at the end of the Battle Tactics class. It was a self-assessment on whether, given their talents, they could face a horde of cursed beings in an open field. They were tasked to explain which of their classmates in Aleph would be their best partner, and what strategy they would employ. It was a simple question of whether they would live or die in such a trial, and who could most likely help them survive it.

Wilcan scratched his head, "Last week? But I was so excited about Vermilon's fight that it slipped my mind altogether."

"Everything slips your mind, Mr. Libbery."

"You were once a battle-maniac, Professor, I thought you would understand."

James huffed, arresting the profanity in his tongue before it escaped him and stained his reputation as a well-respected instructor. "I was not a battle-maniac. How could you even arrive at such a conclusion?"

"But you said you were a ranger. I want to be one too. I believe rangers are amazing."

"Enough with the flattery. As a penalty for late submission, see me later at my office. I have some tasks for you."

"Ah, but I'll be training," Wilcan whined, infuriating James even further.

"I'll help," volunteered Theresa of Cotton Lake. "I don't have much to do after class, Professor."

James beamed internally, thinking of the loads of correcting papers that had just been taken off his back. "I appreciate it, Miss Theresa. I'll see the two of you later then."

His afternoon schedule was packed. After the Henge Field Test incident where one freshman almost died, Director Garren had dropped more classes on his lap. Even the Survival Strategies Class taught to non-Ordination students was thrown at him. But James could not complain. The worst days of Demach was still better than the best days in the damned forests.

It was James's responsibility as well to look after Demach's Atelier — a huge building where artisans crafted artifacts and where scholars studied them. It also housed a great number of demonic artifacts and cursed beings. That was why its walls were made of white marble, etched with runes. Despite the ominous energy contained within, not an ounce of it could be felt.

The fourth years were about to undergo an important exercise that marked a milestone in their career. It would play a huge part on whether or not they would be judged ready to join Araya's Holy Army. They had to hunt a wild cursed being, alone.

And thus, it fell unto James's dutiful hands to prepare the cursed beasts for their Test. Amelia, one of the Atelier servant guards, greeted him, tipping her hat and bowing. "Professor, how fares the day?"

"Gruelling, as usual. You're lucky you don't need to put up with snivelling little lords and ladies. I have come to take a look at all the cursed beings to be used for the seniors' upcoming tests. Will you accompany me?"

"It is my pleasure."

A group of senior scholars stepped out from a wooden door all dressed in leather aprons. They were holding anvils and chisels, screws and saws, their faces smudged with soot and chalk. They were the scholars who specialized in creating artifacts. It was not easy to be chosen as one. Out of the eighty-seven surviving fourth year students, only eleven of them had talent and precise control enough for artifact crafting.

"Professor," they called when they spotted him. "We should share a drink one of these days. The Month of Michael is almost upon us."

And quickly so. The judgment would soon fall upon Lucas, whether he would be allowed to stay or be thrown out. James rejected their invitations, saying, "You could not keep up with me the last time. Build your stomachs first."

Down a dark flight of steps and a dimly lit corridor, the two of them visited a large door, one with a heavy chain on its handle held securely by an enormous padlock. On its door and walls, a dense carpet of runes were carved, much more than what was normally drawn on the halls of the Atelier. James noticed some of the digits had gone faint. He ran his fingers over them, feeling the roughness of the crests and troughs.

"The cunt has been restless, huh?" He said.

Amelia nodded. "Indeed, since Demach opened, the cursed being inside kept getting more and more uneasy. I'm afraid that if left alone for a time, the confinement charm would be broken."

What a disaster it would turn out to be, James thought, picturing in his mind the cursed being imprisoned beyond the heavy marble door.

Castel's Inkarmoran — named by the late Director Castel who thought of keeping it in Demach as a specimen. It was a behemoth of a monster, ensnared from the cornfields close to Atamar. Seven two-star knighted officers collaborated to capture it, albeit only two would have been enough to exterminate it. In their line of work, it was harder to capture monsters alive than to kill them.

The rune marks kept flickering, which meant that demonic energy was constantly being emitted, threatening to break out. If not taken care of now, it would keep on eroding the holy power in the stones.

James murmured a prayer, "Oh, Lord of kindness and light, borrow this child the power of the angels to supress the sinners and those who consecrate thy holy name." As though the wish was granted, drops of holy light popped out of his body in a swarm that floated around them like fireflies.

Pressing his palms onto the cold stone, he directed the sacred drops onto the walls and door. They seeped into the surface and into the rune digits, making them glimmer anew, deeper and more lucid.

But the behemoth inside this room was not their most prized demonic possession. There was another one, more powerful, more dangerous. James was not too enthusiastic to keep it within Demach but the Director insisted. James cast a long glance deep into the dark corridor. Save for the torches, nothing else gave off light there. It's asleep. He thought, silently praying that it remained so for a long time.

Proceeding with his task, James inspected the cursed beings which were encased in cages infused with holy energy. Due to the effect of the artifact, many of them lay dormant but those that were sentient did not really look so threatening when tens of spikes poked through their bodies, the holy energy within them so low that it was not enough to kill but only to restrict.

Majority of them were caught in East Bismuth during the fourth crusade. They consisted of cursed vermin and animals ranging from rabbits to foxes to horses. They occupied a domed room of five floors. For this test, James picked specimens suited for the challenge — strong enough to bring out their improvements, but not so lethal as to overwhelm.

He marked each cage with a green or red ribbon depending on how strong the cursed being was —green for safe without intervention, red for those that might require it. "We'll move them on the day before the Test." He was relieved that there was enough for the eighty-seven of them young lords and ladies.

He walked back to find Lucas waiting by the hall to his office.

"Professor, a great day to you."

James tilted his head, guessing, "I presume the day isn't so great for you."

"I got kicked out again, Professor," he answered, morose.

"But Professor Devonchy's class should be in the morning."

"It's Mathematics," his voice trailed off.

Lucas fell behind the class by miles. Being born to an earl's family, one would have not believed that a lad of his age would struggle with basic arithmetic. James could only wonder at the circumstances surrounding him that a mere commoner outdid him in both letters and numbers.

"So you simply wandered around the Academy all day?"

"The guard at the Bibliotheca dragged me outside..."

"Care to explain why?"

"...He caught me sleeping..."

James sighed in disbelief. He used to have immense faith in Lucas. Every day, it dwindled. And at this moment, the last crumbs of it got blown by the wind.

I was wrong. He relinquished. He thought Lucas held something special. But the boy could not even persevere.

Perseverance was a weighty virtue for James. As a ranger who served as the first line of defence between the valley of House Hilbury and the encroaching cursed creatures, he had known starvation and freezing cold spells and hopeless fights they had no other choice but to retreat from. He had lost count of his friends and blood relatives who had died in those dark cruel woods. Yet each time he could only persevere. Even as he cursed at his burdens, he carried them with pride and resolve. When the mind wavers, the body follows. He knew adversities that these little lords would not imagine facing, yet he steeled his mind for he had a duty to his family, to himself.

Compared to what rangers and soldiers had to face on the battlefield every day, Lucas's problems seemed so trivial. But he had the audacity to sleep when he knew he was sent out of the room for his shortcomings that he ought to make up for.

James spoke sternly, "You know that you have much catching up to do, more than anyone. Do you really want to stay in Demach? Or am I simply pushing you?"

"I do, Professor. Please forgive me."

"I recommended you, Lucas. I put my name on the line because I thought you had a talent to show us." And I felt indebted too, I suppose.

Stepping into the comfort of his room, James had resigned himself to Lucas's inevitable eviction from the Academy.

Standing by the threshold, Lucas asked, "Can I come in? I can help with copying."

James sighed, "Just go sit, I don't mind. Do whatever you want."

"Thank you."

Lucas made himself comfortable on the couch while James went over the stack of papers on his desk, Libbery's name on top. James went over his submitted work. The young lord admitted his power was too low and that he would run out of power in the span of an hour, at most killing twenty beings of grade C. James admired him for his recognition of his own limits. To soldiers, that was a crucial element of survival. He kept reading through. 'The best partner for this battle would be Theresa for she has ample reserve of holy energy. She can take care of the horde with her power while I defend her. Instead of wasting my energy on attacks that would not do much damage to a horde, I'd rather focus it on defence.'

James's brow crinkled. He expected many of them to choose Theresa as a partner, given how powerful she was. It seemed Wilcan's indolence had gotten the better part of him again.

This assessment sought to improve their decisiveness. Who to take as your partner. Of course, trust was an irremovable cog in a team. Thus, James would not be so surprised if they chose their closest acquaintances.

Yet his eyes rounded as he read Theresa's paper. 'I'd bring Wilcan Libbery with me. In an open field where I might lose sight of my surroundings, I believe he could serve as the voice of caution to keep me alert. Based on his previous matches, though he did not excel in flamboyant attacks, he had incredible battle sense. Among Aleph, he is most capable of coming up with strategies at the spur of the moment.'

And that strategy is to use you, James thought. He had a hunch that something must be going on between them. Or with Theresa, at least.

The commoner from Cotton Lake arrived first, looking disappointed as she scanned James's little chamber, finding only a golden-haired stranger there who looked at her and greeted, "My lady."

"A wonderful afternoon, Theresa. How was the rest of your day?" James said, bringing a kettle to the fireplace to brew some tea.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, Professor. Is Wilcan Libbery coming?" She asked, eyeing the freshman she had never met before

"Well, that rogue might not come after all."

She saddened even more.

"This is Lucas," he introduced. "First year Zayin."

"A pleasure to meet you, my lady."

"I'm Theresa of Cotton Lake, I'm no lady." She offered him a hand which he shook, standing up.

"So, can you help me with some papers?" James would not let her out without doing something at least.

Although disappointed, Theresa nodded. "Of course, Professor. Which papers should I correct?"

"These are tests on Dangerous Beasts Behaviours from the Sciences course." He handed her the papers. When the kettle steamed, he prepared chamomile tea for all the three of them.

She took her seat opposite Lucas and began to pore over the papers. Occasionally, she would seek his advice but mostly, she corrected them on her own. James marked tests after tests meanwhile the Zayin student stared at the page of a book. From the corner of his eye, James noticed him stealing glances at him.

"What is it? Do you need assistance?" He said, looking up.

"It-It's just a word I don't know how to read," the freshman stuttered.

Theresa stood up and asked him, "Which is it?"

He gingerly pointed at it.

"That's 'fjord'. Fee-yord. The Anders Fjord where the Champion of Love met her end. Why are you reading it?"

"Thank you," uttered Lucas, mouthing the word, "Fjord. I have difficulty in reading but the heroes' stories keep me engaged."

"Reading? I thought nobles are taught early."

"I'm not a noble."

Theresa went back to her seat, regarding Lucas incredulously. It appeared strange, even to James. Though he did not mean to stick his nose into the student's life, it left him curious as well.

BAM! The door suddenly swung open. A silver-haired lad barged in. "A nice afternoon, Professor."

"Slamming the door now, eh? Have you any shred of etiquette as a Libbery?" Veins popped on James's temple.

"Wican, you've come!" Theresa piped up, smiling.

With one look at the thick pile of papers before Theresa, Wilcan frowned, "Oh, you are not done yet."

"You can help me," she said, scooting to make space for him.

"Hand it all to him, Theresa," ordered James.

"Professor—"

"Do you want demerits again?"

"No, no. My lord father is about to chew me alive." Wilcan took his seat and picked one leaf off the stack. "Oh, wyverns, I remember these. But I have never personally seen one. Have you, Theresa?"

"Once," she answered proudly.

"You lie."

"I swear. I live near the Cotton Lake in the earldom of Torinto and one wyvern appeared there. It nearly wiped out an entire village."

"Is that so?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

He read the paper and asked, "So do you know if they become aggressive when nesting?"

"Well, it's not based on my own experience but I do recall—"

"Oh, who are you?" Wilcan had just noticed the freshman who was quietly reading opposite them.

"My lord," he stood up, "I'm Lucas of Vermil, a freshman. A pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, from Gallagher. You do look a bit like Marco Vermilon. I'm Wilcan of House Libbery. We govern over the Walrus Bay. Have you been there before?"

Lucas stilled, pulling the beret lower over his hair. "I haven't."

"Tis but a few days ride from Vermil. You should visit one day. We have the best coves and rock formations. If you stood up at the top of the cape, you can glimpse the Scarlet Isles. I'll ask Father if I can bring some friends over after the term. You should come with us, Theresa."

She could not hide her glee when he offered it. "I'd love to." On the other hand, Lucas was mum about the sudden invitation.

"Have a bite of walrus meat too. It's tough but worry not, I'll treat you to the most delectable kickshaws that you would never want to leave," he said, blowing a chef's kiss.

All the while, he was still on the first paper, the ink in his quail about to dry. "Fifty points off of you Libbery for not doing your task right away," James reprimanded him.

Wilcan's mouth fell open. "Take it back, Professor, please take it back."

James ears rang with bliss as Wilcan's badge gave off a ding, falling by one rank to 121. "I'll give you 50 merits if you finish before dusk."

"Alright, I have two witnesses. Keep your word." Wilcan sat back down to his task with vigour. "Do they also turn aggressive when they see a blade?"

Theresa shook her head. "I don't think so. But I believe they are smart enough to recognize aggression. If you point a mere stick at it, it would turn violent too."

"So, this one's wrong."

"I would give them half a point if I were you, for they are not entirely mistaken."

"Oh, you're so kind. I never thought you would be so considerate. And looking at it, you're pretty too," he said.

The girl flushed, turning away.

"She's been your classmate for two years, four terms, and it's the first time you're saying that?" James huffed. "Maybe stop dozing off and pay attention for once."

"It's no trouble," Theresa mumbled, cheeks still beet red.

"But Professor, why is Lucas not correcting papers? Isn't he here because you're also punishing him?"

James turned to Lucas who spoke, "I've been kicked out of the room."

"Oooh, a troublemaker! Did you also call Professor Devonchy a ball of ham? That man has a sharp hearing, I tell you. Don't even whisper it—"

"He's Zayin," cut in Theresa, as though it explained everything.

"Is that so? Well, it won't stop you from giving us a hand, will it? I'd appreciate the help. Fifty points is on the line, as you've heard."

"Well..."

"You can just ask Theresa if you're unsure. She's the best in our class."

Theresa's face just kept on reddening. James rather enjoyed the scene. Ah, young love.

"Here," Wilcan pushed some papers to Lucas's side. "It's all about wyverns and cursed monitor lizards. Sometimes, it's hard to tell the difference."

Although Lucas was slow in reading, he made do by asking. When dusk neared, Theresa helped in too. James did not mind. He was simply grateful that the task was about to be finished.

Wilcan rambled on, talking about any topic under the sun. It appeared that the young Libbery was a chatterbox outside of the auditoriums. When Theresa talked, he also listened. James could not help but eavesdrop on their conversation.

"It's called Cotton Lake because of the cottonmouth snakes that live there, not because of cotton. We don't have cotton, if that's what you're asking."

"We learn something every day, don't we? But aren't they venomous. Aren't you afraid to live near a pit of vipers?"

"Well, you learn to coexist with them after centuries, I suppose. If you don't threaten them, they simply slither by."

"I'm not very fond of snakes. I'll run away if I see one."

"You should see them in the hatching season then. They are all over the swamps."

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

Wilcan turned to Lucas. "How about you, Lucas? How is the City of Vermil like?"

"Uhm, it-it's not so big a city like Gallenport. But it's a great place."

"Oh that reminds me," Wilcan peered at him, craning closer, "Do you know about the Curse of Gallagher?"

James's ears perked up. His quail hovered over the parchment, unmoving.

"It's just a rumour going around you see. Just heard it in a banquet one day. Don't tell your lord, they might come for my tongue."

"What is it?" Lucas asked, face darkening.

"It's about the House Vermilon."