Chapter 12 — Up There

"All done, Teacher."

Serina stood and turned around to face her makeup artist, who is none other than Sherfy. Morning like this rarely comes by since the young apprentice took the offer to be a professor, but today is an exception.

Shame to admit, but the hundred year old Witch never tried to use cosmetics herself to embellish her face. Not that she is not fit to do so, but because she never thought it'd be necessary when she mostly let her time pass studying at home before.

Luckily, she already had the apprentice around when she took over the throne. To look decent is something she had no trouble with for she was taught to execute every actions with grace by her late custodian.

However, although the tale of her existence instantly brings terror to those who hears it, the sight of her face when her expression does not intend to impose fear is said to be as soft as a sheepskin.

Rumors has it that the Queen Regent has the a natural child-like face, but for herself, it is not too pleasant to hear such remark.

"You have my thanks, Sherfy."

Walking past her, Serina went by the window to observe the palace patio.

"It's the time of the year again. I heard almost half of your class will be participating," she said.

True enough, that is all the reason she was allowed to take a leave for the day. Usually, the only official holiday for the entire Academia are the specific days of tournament. Same goes for the students who all wish to witness the different abilities that will be shown by the participants.

"They're all reckless and stubborn. That's all the reason they chose my class, first and foremost, expecting that being taught by the Witch's apprentice would be thrilling."

Serina smiled, being aware that those were undoubtedly true. But the fact that no one actually dropped her class upon enlisting to it, there sure is something to it that she is just too embarrassed to admit.

Dropping and transferring of classes are common things at the Academia, especially for those whose family does not restrict their members to practice one specific craft. But as for Sherfy who mainly teaches Alchemy, each member of her class has never done such thing after being brought under her care.

Just when the two were contemplating things on their own, a dragonfly flew past Serina's sight from outside the window. She once again turned around and let it settle on her index finger.

"Teacher, your familiar." Sherfy uttered.

Familiars are spirits who takes the form of any living thing by sharing their mana energy, after being bound by a contract. They usually are employed to spy or gather information, so they are typically guised as insects or anything small. However, they can easily be detected by mages with sharp instinct and be stolen together with the data it carries.

Higher level spirits can be summoned for offensive purposes and there are people who excels in this like Zelda. They can easily access Higher Spirits and modify their forms like that of a beast. But it requires great knowledge about the certain beast's anatomy and function to attain this skill. That is why, those who desire to master this choose to take advanced Beastology classes.

"Let's see what we have here. . ." With that, the dragonfly turned into dust and disappeared into the mirror near the two. It projected a moving image of two people, Tristan and Anne.

It was that time when he revealed his special ability to Anne.

"Didn't see that coming," stunned, the Witch made her remark.

"How was that possible, Teacher?" eyes wide open, Sherfy asked.

The dragonfly emerged from the mirror and fixated itself on the surface of Serina's emerald brooch, which is clipped on the cloth on her chest. With that, it appears to have lost its life and completely turned into an embossed decoration to the gem.

"How about we ask him directly?" she answered with a smirk.

"He just said he doesn't know either."

"About that 'corruption residue', he wasn't aware as well. Say, Sherfy, do you think bringing him to our side would benefit us?" An idea flashed through her mind.

She knew from the start that something about this young man is a crucial piece to her attainment of truth. Truth to uncover the reason behind the destructive events in the present and the awful future that awaits them.

"I am not certain, but I think we must keep an eye on him." Sherfy suggested.

"Last question, that one who controls the beasts, would you assume it's the same someone who gave this ability to this child?"

"I. . I would consider that as another theory, Teacher."

***

The palace hall is sure large enough to accommodate the entire population of his humble hometown, a thought boggled Tristan's mind. They were welcomed by enough chairs as they proceed to the orientation part of the occasion.

The four of them sat on the hindmost row, as requested by Anne who almost got caught by the guards along the way. From left to right, Percy, Zelda, Anne and Tristan sat next to each other. Averting his attention from the intricate sculptures on the ceiling, Tristan quickly grabbed Anne's namecard which reads:

"Aneliese Bach?" the other two turned their gaze to their right upon hearing Tristan.

The only person Tristan knows to carry that surname is his boss at the bakery. He lives by himself and was not blessed with a child upon his wife's death.

"Bold of you to think this won't go unnoticed, Your Highness," Zelda teasingly smiled.

"I have my explanations reserved for later, I'm sure aunt will understand." Anne defended.

"But seriously, that old man agreed to be part of this scheme?" Tristan expressed his doubt.

It is true that the baker has an antagonistic treatment towards him, but the opposite is accurate for Anne. He made it known in the past that he was looking forward to raise a daughter because a fortune-teller told him so. But then, his wife died of sickness and abandoned his hopes thereon. This must be the reason behind his light-heartedness with the Princess, seeing her as the daughter he never had.

"He's only mean to you Tristan because you're a no good." Anne sticked her tongue out to make fun of his friend.

"Indeed." It was Zelda who second the motion.

"Tch. Lucky his residence is on the other district." Still annoyed, Tristan spoke his thoughts out. It was announced last year when they were notified about the Selection that only three participants will be accepted for their district. Not that there is a lot of people who dared to, though. Moreover, the Chief Officer finds it too handful because he would be the one to arrange the necessary documents for their representatives.

"Yep. And that leaves me only one thing to accomplish, ta da! My perfect disguise," Anne proudly exclaimed in a low volume.

"Zelda did recognize you," Percy commented.

"As anyone who knows you would," Zelda added to the thrashing.

"Come on, it's just so I won't be noticed quickly." Anne said, still standing strong for herself.

The argument instantly stopped as they heard the loud clearing of throat from the central mezzanine above. A man, dressed formally like any palace staff began his speech.

"Good day, all forty of you are gathered here for a test of might and courage as well as your worth to be one of the defendants of this country. The most awaited tournament will be held after two days. But before that, you will be accommodated as guests as you prepare for the battle ahead. First and foremost, let us heed the words of our respected Queen Regent."

The man turned to his left and bent his upper body in a form of bow to make way for the significant person he just introduced.

Everyone stared in awe as a woman who physically looks like she is on her early twenties made her appearance. Her long, wavy red hair is neatly tucked behind her ear, letting her face be shown without any obstruction. However, from there, no other parts of her skin is displayed. Her long, turtleneck dress is wholly coloured dark green, flourished with embroidered patterns of curves and blooms.

"A pleasant afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I am Serina Lourdemayne. I will not prolong this introduction any further for I know very well that everyone has already heard of me. . or met me before. After all, you came here for the Selection, holding on to your aspirations and will to protect this Kingdom. Whatever it might be, may the current of fate bring you to the wide ocean you are seeking."

"Are you kidding me. . ." Tristan whispered to himself, unable to believe the sight before him. It is her, he cannot mistake it. That woman who lead him to that misery and left without elaborating anything, it is her.

The woman who called herself 'Ersilia'.

Chill run down his spine as he reminisce those painful memories he had back then. Worse, he thought meeting with the Queen Regent would solve his questions when in fact, it was her all along.

Was his decision wrong, rejecting Anne's plans and chose to go all the way here?

This did not go unnoticed to Anne who immediately checked on him. "Tristan? Anything wrong?"

"Anne, that's—"

"Oh, shoot. Tristan she's looking at our direction, she spotted me!"

Slowly, Tristan turned his head up to her, only to discover her gaze was not directed to Anne but down to him.

***

At this point on, the four of them were separated and took their own paths. Indeed they were treated as guests and were even accommodated in a luxurious hotel to spend the following nights in before the tournament. After that orientation ceremony, they were provided with random numbers which turned out to be the same number of their hotel room.

Females were set apart from males, and unfortunately, only Zelda's and Anne's number matched.

Tristan breathed in and out to calm himself down after that surprise encounter as he face the door before him. His eyes are dead tired from the eventful day he has gone through. He also misses his siblings so bad and couldn't help be feel worried about them.

As he open the door, he was welcomed by the pleasant scent of air which could have sourced from the candles or flowers that are placed everywhere. The space is wide and well-decorated, and a few meters from his feet, he can already see the four beds provided for him and his three other roommates, which he hopes will not be difficult to deal with — like that Albrecht guy.

Seated on the fourth bed from the left, a person quietly stares at him. Tristan's face slightly turned red due to embarrassment, how long was he staring at him like that? He asked himself.

"Uhm, hi. I'm Tristan," he awkwardly waved his hands and walked towards the bed beside the guy.

"Hello. It's Sigmund," the young man responded, pointing to himself. Hearing him speak for the first time, he immediately felt that he's a good and gentle person.

'What a relief. . .'

Dropping his baggage on the floor, he politely bowed his head and turned his back from the guy named Sigmund.

"Oh, is that a bow on your rear?"

Startled by the other guy's sudden rise of energy, Tristan went back to face him and found out he already was standing beside him, eyes shimmering like stars.

"Yes. What is it?" Confused, Tristan asked.

"I love archery! Actually, I—"

A loud banging from the door interrupted the two's strange conversation. Alarmed, Tristan felt the urge to hold on to his bow while Sigmund instinctively hid behind him like a kid.

"Hey boys! the name's Alwyn Laudermann, does it ring a bell? Oh hey there Sigmund. You gotta friend already, I see."

Tristan's puzzlement overwhelmed his fright. The one who slammed the door does not look scary at all. In fact, for a second, he stood there proud and joyful.

"He's Tristan, Alwyn." Sigmund sighed, easing his shock.

"Hi Tristan. We good?" The guy who introduced himself as Alwyn winked at him, causing Tristan's flesh to crawl.

He suddenly thought, he was busy praying he would not be roomies with that Laurence Albrecht, but now. . .

Adding Anne to the list. . .

'Are aristocrats really this weird?'

"H-Hi I hope we get along well," Tristan greeted back.

"Of course, buddy. If you've heard of the Albrechts, they're the only people I despise. Ha ha ha! You sure will too."

'So he also finds that guy's attitudes to be intolerable? Surely those Albrechts live on to their reputation,' a thought crossed Tristan's mind.

"We're still missing another one," Sigmund voiced his observation.

"That Laurence Albrecht guy's three rooms away so there's no need to worry. Right, bud?" Alwyn turned to Tristan again, he then uncomfortably responded with a nod.

Three consecutive knocks on the door caught the three's attention, which Sigmund volunteered to answer. Tristan curiously followed him behind and noticed that no one was actually there as they pulled the door.

Instead, a white envelope was left on the floor, which Sigmund reads;

"Miramond, Tristan. From. . ."

Upon hearing his name, Tristan quickly grabbed the envelope from Sigmund. "Thank you, I'll read it."

Despite his visible confusion, Sigmund nodded and closed the door behind him.

On the other hand, Tristan who was thrilled by the unexpected delivery stood on a corner and pulled the piece of white paper inside the envelope. Unfolding it, he scanned the seemingly blank paper and finally found the message on the lowest part, which reads:

'Maze garden at 1, I know you yearn for answers and so do I.'

His heart raced as he heard her voice on his mind. He then gulped and lifted his head up. . .

"What does it say?" the two asked in chorus.