The news that little Anna Mesiocite had openly threatened an instructor soon spread throughout the academy like the fiery rage of Ifrit. Before long, it wasn't common to see students huddled together in the halls during their passing periods, whispering hurriedly over the same tales and rumors acquired.
"I heard she's a kappa!"
"Impossible! She performed the third fire attack! Kappai hate fire."
"Maybe she's a Lunarian! Why aren't there any left, then?"
"Perhaps. Ever notice how she and that old man are constantly dressed in nothing but red? Maybe there's something that the headmaster ain't tellin' us..."
"But what about the other Red Mages that attend this school? Are they just as evil?"
"Probably. Probably..."
Tellah couldn't deny the students' accusations, despite that they were loudly proclaimed outside his office door. Reinhardt had stormed into the Red Mage's office shortly after the lunch period had ended, bellowing in such a decibel that the restless spirits on Mount. Ordeals could have turned back into their torrid graves. Oddly enough, the Mysidian Governor hadn't been with him, which surprised the mage. Had he told the faculty of his plans for trade relations, and fled without warning, or was he finally letting the other professors have their sweet revenge, and berate him for an ill-mannered daughter?
He felt as though he deserved it, either way.
So much for his lunch...
And class. It seems no one will show.
The old mage had been pacing the interior of his classroom for about thirty minutes now, half expecting the Elder to barge in at some point. For a class that held only six students at the advanced level, it could have been probable that the four adolescents and two adults (not counting himself) had taken ill an hour before the academy was scheduled to end activity for the day.
Deep in his heart, however, Tellah knew that possibility was about as proportionate as he winning an all-expense-paid trip to Agart, where he couldn't worry about such things for a while.
And that was certainly limited.
He looked at the blackboard, which had various notes of the day's lesson scrawled onto it. It was unbelievable to him that just a few hours ago, he had cast aside the Elder's therapy and his late wife's painting to carry on his duty in raising his daughter. Of course, his work had gone on as planned, but with a new vigor of sorts. The only reason why he had the job in the first place was because of Anna, after all; who was he to abuse it?
But who am I to abuse Anna? He thought, brushing a hand over his graying beard in thought. It's because of me that she's this way, instead of a gentle little girl. Reinhardt's singed hair sure as hell proved it...
He had to fight to keep a smile from forming on his face. No matter how ridiculous the Black Mage professor had looked, he couldn't let the seriousness of the matters get out of hand.
No. Never again...
Another twenty minutes passed, followed by ten, and the clamoring of the huge brass bell that signified the end of the day. With a resolute sigh, Tellah swept his gaze over the desolate classroom one last time, then turned to his desk, and began to shovel books back into his worn carpetbag.
But not without a small smile.
It's all going to be different; we'll work on it tonight, he continued thinking, as he locked the door to his classroom, then turned to walk down the hall. A few younger Black Mage students loitering the halls caught sight of him, and turned the opposite direction to flee. He regarded them with a toss of his head, and the hint of a frown. The Black Mages in Reinhardt's class had obviously done a good job with spreading rumors, no doubt.
They'll see improvements, and hopefully not banish us to the moon...
It wasn't long before Tellah exited the academy compounds, and reached the gate that led the ways in and out. He regarded the rest of Mysidia with a small nod; others nodded back in respect to the great mage, while others, fearful of the academy rumors, cowered, made faces of disgust, and led their children away.
"Just you wait, and see," the Red Mage muttered to one particularly nasty gesture. "Then again, if nobody breaks off your finger by force, I'll --"
"HEEEEEYY!"
Tellah's attention snapped, and his gaze shifted to that of the red-robed child hurriedly running towards him, her book bag bouncing wearily against the ground. Her other hand held fast to the extravagant hat that had previously housed her hair; now, she looked like a blaze of fire.
"Daddy, I swear it wasn't my fault! It was that old, stupid ass -- Wha... HEY!"
Tellah hadn't said anything; merely, he reached down, grabbed the girl, and pulled her into a hug.
Anna's eyes widened. "Is... Is anything the matter?" she whispered, as Tellah pressed her head against his shoulder. It was on rare occasion that her father showed such affection, the only few times she remembered being her first ice, fire, and lightning spells at various stages in her life.
Never did she imagine it'd be the same when she had nearly killed someone...
In his eyes, Anna was infantile again, and nearly believed such when he set her down on the ground. The way her crystal-blue eyes bore into him, a mixture of curiosity and fear painted on her face, tried to prove otherwise.
"I don't shower you with enough affection as a father should," Tellah explained, ignoring the approving smiles of his supporters, and the idiotic stares of the oppressors. "From now on, that's going to change. In the meantime, let's go home." He took her hand, the rest of her stunned, and began to walk out towards the village, and to the outskirts.
"She doesn't need a hug, you old fool!" The one with a previous gesture shouted after them. "She needs a right spanking!"
For that, and other reasons applicable, Tellah fought with his own stubbornness to not lift his, and break their finger.
"Anna, why did you do cast fire on Professor Reinhardt?"
The question came about as easy as the carrots and onions that made their way into the stock cauldron for the zuu and vegetable soup. Tellah wasn't eager to broach the subject - Anna, sure as the spirits, likely wasn't ready to consider it - but he knew it had to come into light sometime.
The younger Red Mage was still viewing the carrots with disgust, though she eventually split her attention between chopping up the parsley, and answering her father's question: "He was pissing me off."
Tellah didn't know whether to sigh at the short answer, or sigh at her choice of language; in any case, he did so, but not without a look of contempt at his daughter next to him. She was standing on a chair in order to reach the counter, diligently chopping up the vegetables, while he took care of the various bird parts. He knew that most parents wouldn't allow a child as young as Anna to even think of holding a knife, much less using it for an act of supper, but he knew her better than that.
"You do know that's wrong, right? Setting someone on fire, I mean," he corrected, as she glanced up. "Horace Reinhardt might not be the nicest person on the face of Gaia, but that doesn't give you permission to set him on fire. Nor does it give you permission to cuss like a Baronian soldier," he added, drawing pursed lips from the girl.
Anna shook her head as she shoved the chopped mixture to one side before grabbing another vegetable. "Even IF he wouldn't give something back that's really important?"
"Even if," her father assured her, moving to dump the contents of fowl into the bubbling pot. "I'm sure whatever you had wasn't that important anyhow."
The girl nearly allowed her knife to drop to the cutting board, disbelieving, but grabbed it so it didn't make a sound. The tip poked into a finger, and she would have howled out in its sudden pain had Tellah not of leaned against the hearth, his back still turned, and shoulders slumped.
Maybe I deserve this, she thought, wrapping the affected digit into a fold of her robe. It stung slightly, but at least the material would soak up any unnecessary blood. What if I made him really sad, like he's gonna cry again...? I can't cry, and he shouldn't either! He'll definitely cry if I tell him I lost...
All-too often had Anna been witness to her father's cries, all which were blamed on either the abundance of onions that went into their meals, or the meals itself without the acid vegetable. In whispered talks, eavesdropped, and the way his eyes usually drifted to portraits of a near mirror image of herself as an older woman, she knew it was a lie.
"Did you cut yourself with the knife, Anna?"
Just like how I'm gonna lie right now, she thought, quickly shuffling her contortions into a bright smile, as the mage started towards her. "No, Daddy. I'm fine."
Fine, in so many ways we wish existed...
When the last vegetable had been accounted for, and the murky broth stirred, father and daughter eagerly sat back to watch and wait. It had become something of a past time for Anna, watching the vermilion flames of a simple fire spell crackle against the dry wood, leaping up to caress the metal cauldron every now and then. Often Tellah would gaze at her expectant grin, though he'd find himself looking above the hearth, where the various portraits were hung upon the wall.
There were too many of the smaller ones, he decided. One was of his parents, while a couple was of Sakura, often paired up with him. The rest consisted of Anna from her birth, to those first walking steps, and, most importantly, to her first magic-casting stance. There was no doubt in Tellah's mind that she was suited for the role of a Red Mage: her first procurement had been the gold, tell-tale aura of a healing spell, after all. He'd have to make sure to emphasize on that, as she was further excelling in the dark arts.
Or, do I? He thought, glancing back down to her entranced face. Prejudiced, yes, but I do not want a Black Mage for a daughter, nor a White Mage. I wouldn't care if she were to marry either one, though I want her combination to succeed my own legacy.
But what would she want...?
The last portrait, seated in the middle, had once belonged to his deceased wife, but now stood stately with a brightly colored, ethereal diamond painting: the Water Crystal of Mysidia.
Water was the flow of hope and life, said to of been a pure blessing of the Earth Matron herself. Though he would have previously taken such a statement as blasphemy, Tellah was beginning to long for a new apparition that he would have taken the holy object itself.
Besides, the cottage, small to the eye, but dark and lonely to the heart, on the outskirts of town, could use some hope and life, anyway.
"Will you read me a bedtime story...? You know, like you used to, a long time ago?"
This caught the old mage by surprise. He had only traveled into the girl's bedroom to bid her goodnight, and extinguish the lamps near her door. The warmth of the soup, leftovers long since put away with the interaction of schoolwork, and a battle on lecture, was still in him, threatening to make him keel over in slumber any moment.
Anna's eyes were wide, and insistent. "Please?"
I did make a promise to be the best father to her, he told himself, advancing back into the room, and over to a bookshelf. Toys and dolls were scattered in various places on the floor, causing him to curse underneath his breath every now and then.
"See! You cuss too!"
"Is 'The Imp Princess' a suitable story for you?" Tellah asked, ignoring her proclamation and knowing grins, as he sat down on the edge of her bed. "I haven't read that to you since you were three."
"Or you could read this," Anna replied, digging underneath her pillow to present him with a rectangular parcel. "I'm pretty sure it's a book, too. It's from Uncle Leto," she added, to his surprised face. "He would've given it to you himself, but he had to go to Baron."
"So that's why I didn't see him around," he muttered, placing the item in his lap, much to his daughter's chagrin. "I would lecture you as to why you didn't give this to me earlier, but I'm much too tired," he replied to her disappointment. "Let's begin the book, shall we?"
"Do you think I'll ever become a princess, Daddy?" Anna asked instead, though she adjusted herself into the covers of her blanket. She had a doll dressed in the robes of a Red Mage lying comfortably next to her, which she gripped and snuggled for good measure.
Tellah thought briefly of Sakura's origins, but dismissed it with a second thought. "You'll get to meet a prince in about a week," he replied, smiling slightly at his daughter's widening eyes. "If you can quit cussing, and maybe clean your room, maybe he'll make you into an honorary princess."
Yes, dear. You'll be an honorary princess of the sandcastles, and a guardian of the minstrels, with sand in their pantaloons. I suppose that is something to look forward to...
"A real prince? Do you mean it?" the girl gasped, gushing, struggling to sit up. Her father, gently pushing her back onto the pillow, failed that attempt.
"Yes, I mean it. We'll have new robes made in his honor, and everything," Tellah replied. "Child's morning, we leave for Baron. You can have the day off from classes, at best."
Anna looked as though Christmas had come months in advance. "You promise?"
"Yes, I promise." He nodded, and began to open the storybook. "Now, let's start."
"Can I have my robes done like a real princess, Daddy?"
"Don't press your luck."
In no time flat, Anna had turned over onto one side, and had entered the realms of slumber. The doll still remained clutched in her arms, and it seemed unlikely that she'd let it go anytime soon.
Tellah had stopped mid-sentence when he heard the gentle, rhythmic breathing, and quietly shut the book. Dodging the litter of amusement, he made his way back to the bookshelf, then through the trench again to return to Anna's bedside.
"No matter what, you'll always be my little princess," the old mage whispered, brushing a tress of her light colored strands out of her small face. Peaceful, yes, but still marred like my own. "Good night."
He fixed her covers, and was about to begin the battle with the mess again, when he noticed it: that parcel Anna had given to him earlier. It seemed to of settled in its own space on the floor as though the toys had decided to make an attempt to go back to the toy-box, and give it room.
It does seem suspicious, though, he thought, picking up the package, and quietly making his way from the room after extinguishing the torches on her wall. But why would Leto seek her out, and not me?
"Because he was busy, of course," Tellah replied aloud, long after shutting Anna's door, and making his way to his own room. He tossed the package on the nightstand, and prepared himself for bed.
"Still though; it's odd," he mused sleepily as he slipped into the sheets. The drowsiness beforehand eagerly called to him, luring him into his own version of dreamland. "Why would he package a book, for crystal's sake?"
But even as he finally fell asleep into a vision of hope, the life behind still prodded at his conscious.