It was that strange hour, in the dead of night, when time seemed to flow in strange directions, folding into itself so that seconds seemed to take hours, only to snap back and skip large chunks. You couldn't pin down what precisely the time was, but across every country, in every era, all those who found themselves awake at such an hour had named it exactly the same thing: stupid-o'-clock.
At this particular stupid-o'clock, Jean Colbert wandered the halls, futilely trying to count the minutes until he was allowed to go back to bed.
Being a teacher at Tristain's foremost academy for young mages was, just, incredibly rewarding.
Really, it was! The opportunity to shape the minds of the next generation was something Jean wouldn't give up for the world, and he genuinely treasured each and every one of his students. He'd developed something of a reputation for making a weepy spectacle out of himself on graduation days, but he couldn't help it. Watching young Fire mages go out into the world, full of confidence, creativity and passion… if he were to die tomorrow, he'd die knowing he'd personally given them all the chance he never had to be better than a simple thug with a title.
But, by the Founder, he wished the little bastards would just respect a curfew for once. Frankly, he didn't know where they found the energy. Did that make him old? That probably made him old.
Of course, Jean Colbert was a man who took his duties very seriously, so his tiredness affected his vigilance not a jot. Tonight, it was his turn to patrol the halls and make sure no intruders had gained entry to the castle and no students were out of bed, so by golly he was going to do just that. He hoped he didn't find anyone.
He couldn't exactly punish any students he found, of course – not what the military would consider punishment, at least. But, wouldn't you know, teenagers were a little more emotionally fragile than hardened soldiers, and he hated watching children break down in tears in front of him because he'd given them a detention or, horror of horrors, written to their family.
Still. Sometimes, you had to be the bad guy. It really was for their own good. He strode, lantern held high and his head on a swivel, checking round every corner with a glance before moving on.
It looked careless and cursory. It wasn't. Colbert was really quite good at spotting things that were trying to hide from him.
Louise didn't like breaking rules. She was very much of the opinion that they were there for a reason, and had no desire to get herself into trouble, least of all if it was going to get back to her mother.
On the other hand, she needed to read that book on spirits, and the librarian wasn't going to co-operate. It was all very well for the other students, she thought as she slipped out of the first-year living wing – they could benefit from regular instruction. Louise was working on her own here, and really, what were her parents paying the Academy for if they weren't going to support her learning?
She really had no choice here, if you thought about it.
So, here she was, padding through the deserted halls on silent feet. There was just an undercurrent of nervousness, a thrill of transgression that made the whole thing terribly exciting. She wouldn't be caught – she was sure of that, had made sure of that. But she might be, and she suppressed a giggle as she went on her way.
But really, no, she wouldn't be caught. As ever, her magic had proven itself surprisingly useful.
At a corner, she stopped, closed her eyes, and listened. She heard nothing… as expected, really. In the Valliére house, there had always been noise from outside, even if only the wind, but the Academy was very well insulated against such things by centuries of spells, stacked on top of each other in hundreds of layers like a pastry. Or at least, that was how Louise saw it. For magic, she had good eyes.
As she'd discovered, she had good ears, too.
Louise rubbed her ear in a subtle motion she'd learned to associate with this spell – and suddenly, she could hear a lot more than silence. Outside, the gentle rush of wind was broken by an owl's hoot. There was a rustle of blankets as dozens of first-years moved in their sleep. A male and female voice muttered in low excited tones, and Louise almost managed to tune them out before recognising one as Kirche.
And, far away, slow, purposeful footsteps told her exactly where the duty curfew teacher was – Professor Colbert, by the tread and the even sound of his breath. She smiled.
For years, she'd wondered just how her mother always seemed to know exactly when her daughters were up to mischief. She'd kind of suspected it was just a skill you picked up by being a mother, but all was explained when she took the time to examine a subtle, web-like spell she'd noticed drifting in the air around the mansion one day. Wind mages, she'd discovered, could influence the air to bend sounds, granting them incredible hearing or allowing them to move silently.
It was a lot more subtle than the 'Heavy Wind' her mother was known for, but it was just as advanced a technique, judging by the intricate design of the spell.
So Louise was really quite surprised when she found she could replicate it with little effort. Just like her superb control over heat and light compared to the average Fire mage, her magic seemed to be very good at small, precise effects.
It was great, but not exactly what she'd imagined when she'd prayed for her magic. She could do more, she knew it. For now, she contented herself with her little tricks. They were very useful.
Sticking to the shadows, Louise made her way to the library, making no noise, hearing every tiny sign of life around the Academy, and feeling very pleased with herself.
Eventually she arrived at the library, and crept inside. It was hardly a festival during the day, but now the silence of it was almost oppressive – this early in the year, almost no-one studied in the private rooms this late at night. A small window, high in the wall, let in a tiny beam of moonlight; aside from that, the room was unlit. In the silver glow, Louise could just about see the rows and rows of bookshelves, stretching on into the shadows.
It looked very dark… but only if you didn't know that the real world was made of light.
Louise strode confidently into the shadows, eyes seeing more than matter, looking for that telltale glimmer that she'd learned meant an enchanted object. Hopefully, the book hadn't been moved… if it had been shuffled into Fenrir's Library, she'd be in trouble, because only the teachers had access to that.
She was in luck. Before long, she found the book she was looking for, and returned with it to one of the reading tables, bending the moonlight to follow her and allow her enough light to read by.
"Alright, book," whispered Louise, huddling in her cloak and settling down to read. "Tell me your secrets…"
It was frustrating reading. The author, styling themselves as 'The Moon-led Asterios' had a habit of going off on long, rambling tangents, referring to passages later on in the text as if the reader were already familiar, and generally writing in a stream-of-consciousness outpouring. Also, their handwriting was terrible.
The book also didn't seem to give much of anything in the way of an explanation as to what spirits were, or how to contact them. Instead, it confined itself to a series of case studies of interactions between humans and spirits – or, very occasionally, elves and spirits, with commentary afterwards by the author on what spirit principles were displayed. There were a lot. Louise had thought spirits were supposed to be rare, but according to the author, they seemed a lot more common than most mages assumed.
Louise knew basically nothing about spirits and spirit lore, so all this was new, and fascinating – and, occasionally, horrifying.
For example, there had been a Gallian man who'd accidentally stumbled across something, which Asterios described as 'a self-contained predator-prey Spirit, formed of a trapped Resonance and taking animalistic Form' in the woods behind his house. He had taken his two young children with him in the expedition to burn the thing's lair down. The man had survived, and unfortunately so had his children – his daughter now dribbling spiders and hungering insatiably for the flies his young son coughed out with every breath.
Louise had had to take a break and lose herself in her comforting vision of the world in flames after that one.
Possession wasn't the only horrible thing that happened to people who interacted with spirits, either. A stoneworker had run into some spirit of art, and came out of his experience unable to form emotional relationships with anything except inanimate objects. A group of adventurous revolutionaries had sought a spirit of rebellion for guidance, and found it – the leader had been killed immediately by his own men, and the rest had scattered after being set upon by their own hunting dogs.
More scandalously, a noblewoman had gotten on the wrong side of a spirit with influence over communication, and had only been able to speak in screeches and yelps for over a year before someone realised the thing was strangling her from inside her serpent necklace, and destroyed it. Asterios (rather gleefully in Louise's opinion) took time to explain in great detail how this was a good example of a spirit 'fetter', and how the spirit had used this to remain active for far longer than usual.
The Moon-led Asterios did not mention just how he was hearing all these stories, or how he had gathered so much spirit lore in the first place. A couple of the stories ended with no survivors, or at least none capable of human speech, so unless he was talking with the dead, he must have not only found the spirits involved but also convinced them to not subject him to whatever horrible fate they'd inflicted in the book.
Louise was starting to question the wisdom of her search for spirits, but she read on. She'd made it this far, after all.
Not every fate was terrible, and there were plenty of stories that made it clear why someone might want to contact spirits in the first place. Often, they gave boons to those who impressed them, or else knew secrets no-one else knew. On multiple occasions, a spirit had been able to locate some long-lost artifact or heirloom, for a price.
The Moon-led Asterios himself seemed to consider spirits as a kind of occult panel of experts, with broad knowledge within their sphere of influence. The case studies purporting to be of his own experiences with spirits were the most fanciful of all, resembling fairy tales more than anything else. Louise very much doubted the author had actually entered the spirit world in astral form, much less engaged in a cat-and-mouse chase with a spirit of murder to gain insight into the mindset, methods and actions of a notorious serial killer in order to stop him from targeting the King of Albion.
Still, it was fascinating to read, and so far as Louise was concerned, her next step in figuring out her magic was pretty clearly laid out.
She needed to find, and talk to, a spirit.
And, in the preamble at the start of the book, the Moon-led Asterios made reference to a summoning being performed 'in accordance with the Rituals and Observances of Volume I'. Louise huffed in frustration, but there was no use denying it – if she was going to get anywhere, she needed the other volume of the book. Not only for the details of the summoning, or the proper etiquette, although both of those did seem to be vital, but also to see what, if anything, the circle of runes did when it was complete.
For now, though, she was right back where she started, figuring things out by herself. Well, fine. It wasn't like she was on a time limit.
… actually, judging from the candles that kept time in the library, she had better get herself to bed soon or she'd be no good to anyone tomorrow. Louise replaced the book on the shelves, and padded out of the library on silent feet, wandering far out of her way to avoid Professor Colbert.
Tomorrow was the first Day of Void of the new term, and the first time the students would be allowed out to the town en masse. Louise had somehow agreed to show Kirche round, and while she fully expected that to be a thoroughly aggravating experience, she was a Vallière, and a Vallière kept her word.
Judging by how active Kirche sounded, as Louise crept back into her dorm, they were probably on for a late start…
Louise yawned, and blinked in the dawn sunshine, drawing her cloak around her against the early morning chill. Outside the carefully-controlled climate of the Academy buildings, the weather did what it wanted – and apparently it wanted to turn Louise into an icicle. Where were those stupid coaches? If she'd known they were going to take this long to show up, she'd have stayed in bed.
Next to her, Kirche seemed not at all the worse for wear after her late night and bounced in place, clearly excited to get going. Those few boys who'd decided to get up early to catch the first coach to Bruxelles seemed very grateful to have done so. A couple looked as though they would have liked to come over to talk, which Louise could really do without, so she fixed them with a baleful glare until they retreated.
Kirche nudged her with her foot. "Hey, don't scare off our wallets. I've heard good things about that one café in town – do you want to be the one stuck paying for it?"
One pink baggy eye found Kirche's brown one. "You're impossible. We're going to town and you haven't got any money? I thought the Zerbsts were meant to be wealthy."
Kirche grinned, entirely too smugly. "Oh, I have money with me, of course. But, you know, it's the principle of the thing. I haven't had to buy my own drinks since I was thirteen, and I don't plan to start now."
Stupid Germanian hussy… Louise harrumphed and made some sleepy, grumbly noises.
"Oh, don't be jealous. You're my friend, so if they know what's good for them they'll treat you too." Kirche peered into Louise's face. "What's with you this morning? I'd ask if you were up doing something scandalous, except, uh, I'm pretty sure that's not it. What's wrong? Not sleep well?"
Louise had not really slept badly last night – it was more that she hadn't slept at all. Stupid book. Every time she'd felt herself drifting off, she'd jerk awake to the sensation of a spider forcing itself out of her mouth, or some other horror that bastard Asterios had seen fit to include in his book where any innocent young noble could read it. In the end, she'd given up trying to sleep when she saw the first rays of sunlight poke through her bedroom window, and had submitted when Kirche burst in to drag her out of bed.
She sighed, and rubbed her eyes. Her head felt stuffy, and she kept on losing her train of thought. She wanted to warm herself up, or at least bend the worst of the sunlight out of her eyes, but in her current state she thought better of it.
She'd probably blow herself up or something – and while she'd had some spectacular failures in her time, she'd never screwed up quite that badly, and wanted to keep it that way.
Louise waved off Kirche's concern. "Something like that. Don't worry about it, I'll be okay after some fresh air and some tea." She yawned. "And maybe a nap in the coaches."
Eventually, the transports arrived, and the students all piled in. With a crack of the whip from the coachman, they set off.
Commoners who didn't know any better might have assumed that the carriages would give a bumpy ride – but, being commoners, they would have been dead wrong. These were no simple carts, but a product of precision engineering by very smart people paid a lot of money to make sure nobles could travel in comfort. And rather than a bumpy country lane, which saw the attention of a government Earth mage maybe once a year, these rolled along one of the major highways of Tristain, smooth as glass and bone-dry.
This was why nobles needed to be in charge, Louise reflected sleepily. Everything just ran better when magic was involved.
Despite Kirche's insistence on excitedly pointing out everything outside the window, as though the Tristainian countryside was all that different to Germania, Louise found herself drifting off – only to be shaken awake by Kirche after what felt like about half a second.
"Hey, sleepy. We're here!"
"Wssfss?" Louise said. She peeled her face off the leather seat, and looked around.
The coaches had stopped in the middle of the main square in Bruxelles. This being the Day of Void, it was fairly bustling, with nobles and commoners alike filling the square and the narrow streets. Merchants had set up stalls what seemed like every other step – the richer ones with stands, the poorer ones with rugs, and every one clamouring for attention.
"Cheese!" called one. "The freshest cheese, chilled by ice stones and brought straight to you – none finer in all of Tristain, and that's a fact-"
"Get your bread!" bawled a huge red-faced man. "It's all got to sell, and it's all got to sell today! It's so cheap my wife thinks I've lost my mind! Get your- thank you, ma'am, blessings of the Founder upon you- get your bread!"
Kirche laughed as she helped Louise down from the coach. "I guess commoners will be commoners everywhere, huh? It's good to see someone with a bit of life in this country!"
Louise kneaded her head. The noise wasn't doing her any favours, and in the city, the air was hardly what you might call 'fresh'. "I'm too tired to come up with an objection, Zerbst, so just pretend I did and that it was absolutely devastating, alright?"
Her friend just laughed, apparently in too good a mood to argue. "Don't be grumpy. Come on, let's browse."
Louise let herself get dragged along while Kirche happily wandered the square, stopping to talk to the shop owners if she saw something that interested her. It was kind of fascinating. Louise's mother had always adopted a polite and professional but distant approach with commoners, establishing boundaries early and leaving no confusion as to what was and wasn't acceptable. Her father was more jovial and friendly, and much more willing to muck in and get his hands dirty, but also knew when and how to remind everyone just what being a Duke meant.
In the end, learning how to lead was every bit as important as learning magic – that had been a lesson Louise's mother had made sure to hammer into every one of her daughters. They had all been encouraged to find what worked for them, to varying degrees of success. Éléonore had gone for Mother's approach, but hadn't quite managed to find the right balance between discipline and motivation. Cattleya leaned more towards their father's friendly method – it worked very well for her, as she interacted almost exclusively with the household staff, who'd known her since she was a girl and loved her as one of their own.
As for Louise… she was still learning. For now, she kept an eye out for lessons in leadership, just as she kept an eye out for lessons in her style of magic.
Admittedly, she didn't think she'd be using Kirche's method, which seemed to consist of flirting shamelessly with every male shopkeeper she came across. Her noble cloak covered basically nothing of her low-cut shirt, and she made a point of leaning forwards to emphasis the point as well as make sure they got a faceful of her fragrance.
Louise would have been making notes, but, well… the saying 'you can only cast with the wand you have' applied.
For their part, Kirche's targets seemed struck utterly dumb by her attention, and maybe one in three was able to get a complete sentence out. Finally, Louise couldn't stand it any more.
"Zerbst, for the love of the Founder, just stop," she hissed, as they meandered away from a red-faced lad who'd dropped his basket of apples all over the floor and started bowing furiously when Kirche trailed her hand down his arm. "Do you just enjoy making people slobber all over you? I really thought you were better than that."
"Don't knock it until you try it," shot back Kirche, but it lacked any real heat. She sighed. "But, yeah, this is kind of boring. And, I guess you Tristainians would have hangups about this… man, now I feel bad about menacing that poor kid. At least back home the commoners can give as good as they get."
"I don't want to hear about what commoners have given you," said Louise immediately. Her sleepy brain didn't quite kick into gear fast enough to stop her asking, "And what do you mean, 'of course we'd have hangups'? I mean, of course of course! You're a noble, and he's a commoner! It's… it's not done!"
Kirche patted her on the head. "Ah, you're so innocent. Not a bad thing, though."
"What do you mean?"
"Well…" Kirche chewed her lip. "Okay, so you know we've got a bunch of new nobles who didn't start that way, right? Our merchant princes, the guild leaders, the more successful treasure hunters – if you've got enough money, no matter who you are, you can buy a title in Germania. There's a difference between them and the real mage families, but economics is a power all by itself, you know? They can apply a lot of pressure if they need to, and they look after their own. It's not much, but workers and franchisees do have a little protection from the whims of random nobles."
Louise tilted her head, completely lost. Of all things, a breakdown of the Germanian caste system was not where she had expected this conversation to go. "I don't see what this has to do with anything."
"Mm, it's probably better that way. But, yeah, I really should dial it back a notch. I forgot it was like this here… I thought I was losing my touch, but turns out your commoners are just scared of the nobles." Kirche shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I'll just have to restrain myself to flirting with noble boys. At least when they say yes, I know they're not just doing it out of fear of retribution." She sighed dramatically. "It'll be hard, but I will just have to manage."
Louise followed her friend, through the thronging crowd, nobles and commoners all in the same place but, she was beginning to notice, somehow separate from each other.
She still didn't really get what Kirche was talking about, but didn't want to admit that. And, honestly, she probably was better off not knowing. She would be the first to admit that politics was not her strongest suit, and she was beginning to realise that she had been really quite sheltered growing up in the Vallière estate. Her family made a point of looking after those they were responsible for, and while she'd known intellectually that not all nobles did, she'd never actually had to think about the implications.
Well. With luck, it'd be years and years before she was in a position of authority over an actual human being. Hopefully, by then, she'd have started to work out just what that meant.