She remembered a time when she felt like this. It dated back years ago, back when she was still a little child. It was a sunny morning and Eula was out to replenish their stocks of food by going to the nearest market in town. And then, it happened. She spilled the potion Eula was brewing for days—its contents were a gift from a traveling merchant. According to her master, the herbs the merchant gave were gathered from Zweite, the second continent. It seemed precious, Faustina thought. And out of curiosity she held the vial—rather too clumsily, that it slipped from her hand.

Faustina tried to cover her mess. The vial did not shatter, but its contents spilled right into the wooden floor. And she was caught red-handed— Eula arrived shortly, only to see what she worked on for days—gone. Spilt.

"What happened here, champ?" Eula asks, placing a basket with vegetables and such to the table. Faustina was kneeling to the floor, her trembling hands were holding a cloth. The vial was empty on her side and she was sweating.

"Are you alright, Faustina?" Eula asked. "Stand up," she says, helping the little girl to her feet.

"Are you okay? You should have waited for me. That was dangerous, you know. The contents of that potion may harm you. Did you wash your hands?"

Faustina cannot find the will to speak, she was too embarra.s.sed—or rather, she was too afraid to mutter a word. She felt an unreasonable urge to cry. She knew she did something bad, and she did not know how to handle it. She didn't want to give Eula a problem the moment they lived together, but now she did it—she did it big time.

"I'm so sorry."

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Eula sighed, and then smiled warmly. "It's alright. Now let me see your hands."

Faustina showed Eula her palm, and then there came Eula's neverending scold.

**

"Relax." Orwell said, walking by her side.

"Orwell is right, Lady Faustina. You should be graceful, and confident. You shan't be frazzled." Lovellia says in an encouraging tone, "take a deep breath."

Faustina did so. The doors from the throne room opened and there, in the opposite end was the king. There was Sheila, and the 'Servants of Light,'—the people clad in moss-like cloaks that followed Sheila around. Orwell told her about them being the servants of clairvoyants, generation after generation. There were few people right there, whom she could not recognize; but there were also knights of the king right in there, standing beside Sheila.

Faustina's trembling knees walked alongside Lovellia and Orwell, but only the two were a step behind her. She bowed gracefully, as taught by Lovellia.

"Greetings, my king."

The king looked healthy, his eyes were bright and he was smiling. His gaze was fixated to Faustina for a while, and then it s.h.i.+fted to Sheila.

Sheila nodded, and then her servants proceeded to walk towards the king, one of them carrying an opened small box with a small seed in it.

**

Orwell knew what was happening: they were going to give Faustina her medium for her magic. But he was a bit wondering why the king wanted to do that himself—this was something that can be done with the academy too. Magierstadt is a country of magic, and its town was exclusively selling the seeds which can be transformed to either staffs, wands or scepters.

He had his staff created from the shop of Mr. Periwinkle, who used magic of the book to create the staff based on his persona. It was one of the prerequisite subjects in the academy—to know how to create a medium that can control their magical prowess.

Seeds can grow into staves, wands, or scepters. Magicians coming from the royal family usually summons scepters, a rather higher medium more capable of storing the royal family's prowess. Staves and wands are almost similar, says by most teachers—but Orwell found a research in the academy's library saying that staves and wands depends on one's personality divided into two: The Leader, and The Humble Follower. Staffs are for magicians with the personality of The Leader, whilst wands are for the latter.

However, the credibility of the research was questionable. It was not approved by Magierstadt professors.

The king went towards Faustina, the seed on his palm. Orwell stared with curiosity.

"This seed will be the embodiment of your prowess." The king says, as he gives the seed to Faustina. The king moved his finger in five different manners—and Orwell can't help himself but grin as his eyes widened in astonishment.

And then there was fire—a blue fire appeared in the ground as everything disappeared into the void. Orwell could see nothing more.

Nusquam. In mundane tongue, "nowhere." Orwell gulped in antic.i.p.ation.

Now there was only Faustina and the king inside a certain fabricated s.p.a.ce. The magic the king used is one of a higher origin—one created by an ancient scholar. It creates a dark barrier that separates his chosen subject to "reality."

Only the royal family are allowed to use it. The royals who do not need any medium to embody their magic.

The kings!