Chapter 18. Opening of academies.
Russian Federation. Moscow.
Thirty minutes away from the Embassy of the Principality of Sinal.
"It's so…" the young woman trailed off, unable to find the right words. Her gaze wandered over the towering skyscrapers, seemingly reaching into infinity, and the LED billboards flashing like distant constellations.
"Overwhelming?" the man walking beside her suggested with a slight smile.
"Yes… I suppose you're right, Utris," she replied, unable to tear her eyes away from the mesmerizing sight. Her voice, as melodious as the chime of silver bells, carried a sense of awe. "It's constant motion—just look." She gestured toward the endless stream of pedestrians, each one a tiny part of this unrelenting vortex of life. "Compared to them, I feel like… a frog stuck in its quiet little pond, unwilling to leave. My head is spinning from this madness, Utris. Is it even possible that all this was built by mortal hands? Look at these monoliths of glass and steel, their rooftops like spires reaching for the heavens, vanishing into the mist of the clouds. Is such a thing truly possible? Tell me, my loyal protector—would you wish for such a life in our principality as well?"
"My lady…" The man, whose features were both stern and noble, lowered his gaze. His voice was filled with respect, yet tinged with sorrow. "I would wish for such a life, but it is too soon to even consider it. Your father, the Grand Duke Adrian, is still fighting traitors. Until this storm passes, such thoughts are premature."
"Oh, dear father…" the young woman whispered, her voice trembling with anxiety, as delicate as a fragile thread of silk. "Utris, do you think this storm will pass soon? I'm so afraid for my father and mother. They carry the weight of this burden alone, as if they were standing against an oncoming tempest."
"If the Russian warriors had not arrived, we wouldn't have stood a chance," Utris answered, his voice growing drier and colder. "Almost every noble house has risen against the Grand Duke—against your father—and they are not without the aid of that accursed Parpaldia, whose motives are always dark and treacherous. But against the skill and discipline of the army subcontractor, they stand no chance. I believe this war will end very soon. I have heard of their capabilities, and I can tell you, they are toying with the nobles like a cat with a mouse. And besides, your father and mother are under their protection, safe like pearls within a sturdy shell. I'd wager that within a week, the mercenaries of this 'TerraRosGroup,' as they call themselves, will neutralize the leaders and hand them over to the Grand Duke for judgment. But, my lady… the Russians are shedding blood for your father, and it is unclear what price they may demand in return for their aid. Their motives are as murky as an autumn dawn."
The young princess merely nodded at Utris's words, offering no reply, as if an invisible chain had bound her voice.
"Lady Liriel-al-Adrian. Lord Utris-an-Larsi."
A young man approached them, dressed in a perfectly tailored black three-piece suit, his eyes hidden behind sleek sunglasses. His movements were smooth and precise, like those of a finely tuned machine.
"Please, come with me," he said, gesturing toward a sleek black van with tinted windows, parked by the curb like a silent shadow.
"What's happened?" Liriel asked, giving voice to the question that had been lingering in the air like an ominous specter.
"You have been summoned to the embassy, Lady Liriel-al-Adrian," another man, dressed in an identical suit, responded. His voice was steady and emotionless, as if reading from a pre-prepared script. "Your father, he…"
"What about him?!" Liriel interrupted, her voice sharp with alarm.
"Comrade Igorov, what's happened to my father?!" This time, panic was evident in her tone, her heart pounding like a caged bird's.
"He is fine, my lady," the man called Igorov reassured her, his voice softening for a brief moment. "Your father and mother arrived an hour ago on a special flight. He is currently in discussions with our president. We have been ordered to escort you to the embassy."
Liriel exhaled deeply and sank into the plush seat of the van, as though a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Her body relaxed, as if shedding years of accumulated tension. Utris, meanwhile, reached for a glass from the minibar, poured himself some mineral water, and downed it in one gulp, as if trying to wash away his unease. Catching Liriel's still-anxious gaze, he silently poured another glass and handed it to her, as if offering to share the burden of the moment.
Before long, Liriel and her guardian arrived at the embassy of the principality—a small sanctuary of their homeland within this unfamiliar city. A royal family meeting was held shortly thereafter in one of the embassy's quiet and elegant restaurants.
At one table, Grand Duke Adrian, lost in thought, sat in hushed conversation with Utris, the two of them leaning in like conspirators discussing matters of state. At the adjacent table, Liriel and her mother, like two carefree swallows, chatted about the delicious food, about dresses, about the weather—as if, for a moment, they could forget all their troubles. They spoke of all the fascinating things they had seen in Russia, trying to distract themselves from darker thoughts.
Throughout the entire trip, the princess gasped and marveled at everything she saw, like a child witnessing a miracle for the first time—until she felt a light nudge in the side from her father. Catching his stern gaze, she understood his unspoken message: A princess should not behave like a simple country girl.
And yet, despite his silent rebuke, Liriel felt an inexplicable happiness.
Taking it upon herself to act as her mother's guide, she introduced her to the many comforts of modern life—from the wonder of a Russian sauna to the exquisite, custom-made dresses from the finest ateliers, which far surpassed even the best creations of the most skilled tailors in the kingdom.
Russian Federation. Sverdlovsk Region.
In Moscow and Yekaterinburg, as if rising from the ground overnight, the first academies of their kind were established on an experimental basis—an astonishing fusion of scientific and technological progress with magic. These academies, like beacons of knowledge, attracted those hungry for learning. They were funded not only by the government but also by Russia's largest corporations, which recognized that the future lay in the synthesis of science and magic.
Students enrolling in these institutions sought to master magical, applied, and natural sciences, eager to explore new frontiers. The most popular and well-advertised fields at the academy's inception included artificing, breeding, runology, alchemy, and life magic—areas that promised a future filled with discoveries.
The Ural branch of the academy resembled an entire district, a self-sufficient hub designed for both education and comfortable living. It had everything: state-of-the-art academic buildings, workshops, and laboratories where research at the intersection of science and magic would take place. There were also modern residential complexes for faculty, high-rise dormitories with space for ten thousand students, sports facilities, cafés, shops, dining halls, gardens, and parks—everything needed to foster an environment of both study and personal growth.
Each academy was led by two rectors, one responsible for scientific and technological advancements and the other for magical research—like two wings of a single bird, propelling it toward new heights. Meanwhile, Russian specialists scoured allied nations like treasure hunters, seeking individuals with magical potential, as well as those with sound minds, who could be trained and whose talents could be channeled for the greater good.
The five main state-prioritized disciplines were overflowing with students and instructors, much like rivers bursting their banks in spring. Some mages, particularly artificers—keepers of ancient knowledge—were eager to share their expertise. However, the core of the academy's most cutting-edge, classified research would take place far from prying eyes, in fortified research facilities on artificial islands in the Far Ocean.
The backbone of these academies consisted of engineers, chemists, mechanics, doctors, pharmacists, programmers, geneticists, artificers, alchemists, life mages, and many others. Like gears in a vast, intricate mechanism, each played their part in advancing knowledge and technology. Students were drawn not only from the Russian Federation but also from the nations of Qua-Toyne, Thearchia of Gahara, Topa, and Fenn. All applicants had to pass a rigorous selection process, including exams in Russian language and mathematics, as well as aptitude tests for magical ability.
The first classrooms became battlefields of intellect. In one hall, artificers, runologists, and engineers engaged in fiery debates, their discussions sometimes escalating into playful tugs on each other's beards, refusing to yield an inch in their respective fields. In another, life mages and medical doctors clashed over differing approaches to healing—one treating the person, the other treating the disease. But soon, they realized that by working together, they could achieve something greater, a synergy where two plus two equaled five. If life mages could be trained in medical sciences, they could, quite literally, piece together a dying person like master artisans restoring a shattered vase.
Elsewhere, chemists, pharmacists, and alchemists convened in discussions, exchanging knowledge and methodologies. By the end of these meetings, they had grown into a cohesive unit, absorbing insights from one another like eager apprentices. Meanwhile, in specialized halls—almost like zoological research centers—geneticists and breeders from Kva-Toine and Loria shared their expertise, discussing the creation of new life forms, including the breeding of so-called mythical creatures such as wyverns.
After these early discussions and introductions, faculty and researchers gathered in a grand auditorium for the official opening ceremony. Settling into their seats like an audience awaiting a theatrical performance, they watched as a bald man in a black suit stepped up to the podium. His face was serious and focused.
The Russian specialists greeted him with applause, soon joined by their foreign counterparts, creating a wave of welcoming applause for their leader.
As the hall fell silent, the man began to speak. His voice was steady and resolute:
"Greetings, comrades, colleagues, and honored guests of our country!" He swept his gaze across the hall. "I want to thank you all for gathering here today in full attendance." The man looked at the audience as if trying to establish a personal connection with each of them, coughed lightly into his fist, and continued.
"My name is Mikhail Anatolyevich Sukhov. I am the rector of this academy and your director of scientific and technological affairs. Today, our academy officially begins its work.
Dear colleagues, we have been entrusted with numerous tasks—challenges that must be met for the prosperity of our homeland. I wish you success in your endeavors and now invite my esteemed colleague, your second director, responsible for the academy's magical division, to the podium."
Mikhail stepped away from the lectern and gestured toward a man clad in a flowing blue-and-white robe, whose very presence radiated calm and confidence. The hall erupted in applause, welcoming him as one might welcome a wise sage.
Waiting for the noise to settle, the man began speaking, his voice smooth and melodic:
"Greetings, esteemed scholars!" He bowed, as if acknowledging every person in the room. "As Mikhail Anatolyevich has introduced me, I am the rector of this academy and your director of magical studies. My name is Atorus Van Toris. Just as Mikhail Anatolyevich has done, I extend my best wishes for your success in the pursuit of magical knowledge. Thank you."
Atorus bowed once more and, under a wave of applause, stepped away from the lectern, leaving behind an undeniable impression of both wisdom and power.
With the introduction of the academy's rectors complete, the presentation of key figures followed—each individual appointed as the head of a group of scientists and mages. Soon after, strategy meetings commenced, attended by the rectors and the leaders of each scientific division, where plans for the future were laid out.
And then, the real work began. Streams of students, like rushing mountain rivers, poured into the academy, eager to gain priceless knowledge and contribute to the dawn of a new world.
Russian Federation. Saint Petersburg.
A group of forty people, like a colorful procession, followed a man with a yellow armband—their guide. Passersby turned their heads in curiosity, staring at real-life elves, beastfolk, anthropomorphic cats, lions, and other creatures that seemed to have stepped out of ancient legends. Some among them were human but bore long ears and tails, a subtle reminder of their deep connection to nature. They, too, turned their heads in fascination, observing the city dwellers—studying their behavior, their simple yet practical clothing, their quick and nimble walk, and the cars speeding past, machines entirely foreign and mysterious to them.
"Friends, may I have your attention!" the guide called out, waiting for the murmurs to quiet and for all eyes to turn to him. "We're about to descend into the metro. Please stay close and don't wander off. We'll take the train to our hotel." He spoke loudly and clearly, ensuring that everyone in the group could hear him.
Moving as a single entity, the travelers followed their guide, chatting animatedly about all they had seen and heard in Saint Petersburg.
"The Winter Palace is absolutely breathtaking!" one of the tourists exclaimed. "And the paintings, the sculptures—it's all magnificent! Their culture is so incredibly rich!" His voice brimmed with awe and reverence.
"I asked the guide about the magical muskets I saw behind the display case," another added. "I asked, 'You keep new weapons behind glass like that?' And you know what he told me? He said those were outdated models—over three hundred years old! Can you believe that?"
"That's unheard of!" a third tourist chimed in, his expression one of sheer disbelief. "A nation outside the boundaries of the civilized zones… and yet they're this advanced?"
"They had an emperor about a century ago," another noted. "Then they staged a revolution and killed their ruler!"
"Don't be so quick to judge," a fourth one countered, his tone calm and thoughtful. "Just look at their cities, their culture. Look at these people—always in a hurry, as if their entire nation never stands still."
"You've got that right," a fifth traveler agreed. "Compared to them, I feel like a tortoise." He chuckled, as if trying to lighten the mood.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we've arrived," the guide announced in a loud, firm voice, ensuring everyone could hear him. He gestured toward a yellow line on the floor—an invisible border between two worlds. "Do not cross this line until the train arrives," he warned, his voice carrying a note of authority.
A metro train arrived, gliding in like a steel dragon. Later that evening, gathered around a restaurant table at their hotel, the travelers shared their impressions of the city. A sense of camaraderie and unity filled the air. Some had made new friends from different lands, exchanging promises to visit one another in the future, as if recognizing that, despite their differences, they were all part of a larger, interconnected world.
After their journey through Saint Petersburg, the guests departed for their respective homelands, each carrying with them a piece of Russia's soul and culture—an unforgettable experience forever etched in their hearts.
The Principality of Qua-Toyne.
Trade City Mihark.
Recently, an event of great significance took place—one that symbolized the unity of two worlds. Captain Ine of Mihark's Knightly Defense Corps and Major Roman Spiridonov of the 1st Liberation Division of Qua-Toyne were married, their hearts beating as one. This was the first officially registered marriage between a Russian and a Qua-Toine citizen, marking a new era of friendship and cooperation between their nations.
Their love story began after the evacuation of Qua-Toyne's soldiers from Gim to Mihark, where Roman—like a hero out of legend—first met Ine, whose beauty struck him straight to the heart. Later, she was assigned to a delegation sent to the Russian Federation, where she not only witnessed the splendor of a foreign land but also realized just how deeply she loved this straightforward and open-hearted man.
While there, Roman found time to show her around Moscow, taking her on a date that became the beginning of their love story. After the Battle of Rodenius, where their bond grew even stronger, they became lovers, and now, at last, they had sealed their love in marriage, making their vows before both gods and men.
For their honeymoon, they stayed in Mihark, visiting Ine's parents and spending time in the warmth of family. But soon, their path would lead them back to Russia, where a new chapter of their journey awaited.