Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1173: The Assignment

While the Academy’s various gears turned along their separate paths, the Western Library received a visitor of its own.

The library occupied the oldest wing of the Academy, where dark stone walls veined with faintly luminous crystal rose around shelves several stories high. Narrow bridges and staircases shifted whenever the governing formations judged another route more convenient, while unsupported lamps drifted between the stacks, their pale flames brightening as readers passed beneath them.

Books rested in more than ordinary silence. Some whispered behind their bindings, others rearranged their titles when approached by the wrong person, and a few had to be persuaded before revealing their contents. The oldest tomes remained sealed beneath protective scripts that glimmered like frost across their covers.

Within that shifting maze, Elara walked toward Private Room Four with several minutes remaining before the appointed hour. She had already made the reservation, naturally leaving no room for a possible mistake.

The room had not changed since their first lesson. A narrow table occupied its center, with two chairs facing each other beneath the steady light of the wall formations. Shelves lined one side, while the other had been left bare for projected diagrams and practical demonstrations. Even the formation plate they had used remained in the same cabinet.

She placed her books on the table and began arranging the lesson.

Lucavion’s introductory text went beside the chair he had used before. She set three blank formation plates between them, followed by the prepared ink, a cleaning solution and several reference diagrams of the standard [Mana Light] circle. The diagrams could be turned toward him as needed, while the spare plates would allow her to reproduce any correction from her side of the table.

’There will be no reason to guide his hand.’

Elara aligned the final sheet with the table’s edge, then adjusted it by the width of a finger. Lucavion had told her to stop. She had understood him, disregarded the refusal and taken his hand again because she had been too intent upon proving what his instincts had revealed.

Whatever her reason had been, the instruction itself had not been unclear.

They had nevertheless completed the lesson, and he had agreed to return. Elara would not make that decision more difficult by offering an apology designed chiefly to ease her own discomfort. She would conduct the second lesson properly, and if the matter still required words afterward, she would use them then.

Her hand moved to the stack of blank parchment reserved for his corrections, and the sight of it recalled a less orderly collection of documents.

The secondary verification conducted by Student Affairs had concerned two names: Elowyn Caerlin — the identity Eveline had built for herself — and Reilan Dorne, the cover Cedric carried alongside her. Cedric had been required to account for his identity, training history, household sponsorship, former tutors and connection to House Caerlin. Each answer had been checked against the records prepared for them, then checked again wherever the Academy possessed an independent point of comparison.

Eveline’s preparations had survived the review. No contradiction had exposed Elowyn Caerlin, and Student Affairs possessed no proof that either name belonged to a fraud.

’The records held. That is not the same as the attention passing.’

Elara rested both hands against the table.

The review had ended without accusation, yet it confirmed that scrutiny was accumulating faster than their circumstances could comfortably bear. Elowyn’s examination results exceeded what many expected from the daughter of an obscure coastal baron. Her silver light remained difficult to classify. Magister Selenne had already examined her ability closely, and Thalor Draycott had noticed enough to become interested.

Then the Rotunda had made her visible to everyone else.

Gervase might have contributed to the investigation — the noble whose pride Elowyn had wounded in front of witnesses not long before. His pride had suffered publicly, and men with greater influence than restraint rarely accepted embarrassment without seeking another avenue of repayment.

’Possible, but not proven.’

The Academy had possessed legitimate reasons to examine House Caerlin before Gervase ever approached her. Assigning the entire summons to him would have been convenient, but convenience did not make a conclusion sound.

The less certain question was what Lucavion had changed by interfering.

’And why interfere at all?’

He had known enough to obstruct Gervase without explaining himself, then behaved as though the consequences belonged to him alone. During their dance, however, he had spoken of being kept as something decorative, useful only while circumstances permitted it, before being discarded when the room no longer had a place for him.

There had been regret beneath those words. Or something near enough to regret that Elara could no longer dismiss it as another calculated performance.

’If he understood what that interference would cost—’

—CREAK!

The door opened before she finished the thought.

Lucavion entered with a folder tucked beneath one arm and more loose sheets held in his hand than fifteen diagrams should reasonably have required.

Elara looked from the papers to his face. ”Did you complete the assignment, or are you attempting to bury your instructor beneath it?”

He set the folder down before answering, the loose sheets sliding slightly out of alignment as he did. ”Depends whether burial delays the criticism.”

”It will give me more material for it.”

Lucavion said nothing to that. He straightened the sheets instead, unhurried, and took the same chair he had occupied during their first lesson.

Elara remained on her side of the table and drew the folder toward herself.

The fifteen required diagrams had been separated from the loose pages and arranged in order. Each contained a complete [Mana Light] circle with its components labeled, though complete proved to be a generous description once Elara examined the first page. The required terminology notes followed them, alongside brief summaries from the introductory Chapters she had assigned.

’He did all of it.’

That established effort, nothing more.

The loose sheets required slightly longer to understand. Some held copied definitions, written once in their proper form and then rewritten beneath in shorter language. Others contained abandoned circles whose proportions had gone wrong before completion. Several had been filled with small practical observations connecting unfamiliar concepts to consequences Lucavion already understood.

Elara set those aside and turned the earliest complete diagram toward the light.

The strokes were too forceful, as though the ink itself had been expected to drive mana around the circle. The spacing tightened wherever he had misjudged the room available, forcing several labels into the margins, while two connecting lines met at an angle a trained mage would have corrected before allowing the ink to dry. The structure remained recognizable, but recognition was the lowest standard by which a formal diagram could be judged.

She placed one finger beside an annotation near the lower junction. ”The mana catches here.”

Lucavion followed her finger. ”Yes.”

”I was reading what you wrote.” Elara turned the page toward him. ”I am asking whether you believe that qualifies as accepted structural terminology.”

He shrugged, a short, half-committed motion. ”It was clear enough. To me.”

”Magical notation exists so that someone other than its author can understand a formation before it explodes.”

”None of these exploded.”

”That is primarily because I forbade you from putting mana into them.”

His attention returned to the diagram rather than searching for another answer, and Elara continued through the first pages. The same habits repeated themselves with irritating consistency. Pressure replaced compression, weight stood in for structural load, and one secondary line was described as pulling against the circle when the proper explanation required the interaction between circulation and stabilization.

Yet the crude phrases were not random. Each one described a physical consequence accurately enough to lead him back toward the formal concept.

”They helped me hold onto the definitions,” Lucavion said when she held up another heavily annotated sheet. He turned the pen over once in his fingers before continuing. ”Same as drilling a stance. You feel it wrong a hundred times before you feel it right. The name comes after.”

”A private note may be as ugly as you please, provided it remains private.” Elara returned the sheet to its place. ”A formal diagram must be legible to another trained mage. You do not get to rename half the discipline whenever its vocabulary inconveniences you.”

”Wasn’t renaming it. Just hadn’t earned the real name yet.”

Elara ignored that distinction and touched the upper section of the circle without naming it. Lucavion began with, ”The point where the flow divides—” before stopping himself. His gaze remained on the formation. ”The primary circulation junction.”

Her finger moved to the narrower line descending from it.

”The stabilizing return.”

”Secondary return conduit,” Elara corrected. ”A stabilizing return is defined by function. The conduit is the structure carrying it. Confusing the two will become inconvenient the moment a formation contains more than one return path.”

Lucavion repeated the proper term once, quietly enough that it belonged more to memorization than conversation.

He had retained considerably more than he had possessed during their first lesson, though his knowledge still emerged through function before vocabulary. ’At least the bridge leads somewhere.’ Whether he could cross it reliably remained another matter.

Before proceeding, Elara lifted the first plate and angled it beneath the wall light. She traced the circle without touching the ink, searching for the faint discoloration that mana activation left upon an untreated formation surface. There was none. She checked the next two, then several from deeper in the stack. Every line remained inert.

Lucavion had obeyed her restriction despite being unable to test the diagrams in the manner most natural to him.

Elara lowered the plate without comment and resumed her inspection.

By the fifth attempt, she had prepared another mark beside the primary junction, where the spacing in the earlier circles had compressed the outgoing lines together. Her pen descended, then stopped above the parchment.

The junction had already been widened.

Elara turned to the next page. The labels no longer crowded the outer ring, and the secondary return conduit — the same distinction she had corrected only moments ago — had been drawn separately enough that its function could not be mistaken for the structure containing it.

Her pen remained poised above an error that was no longer there.

Elara lowered it without marking the page and turned to the next. Across the remaining attempts, the pattern continued. The force behind Lucavion’s strokes gradually lessened; the distances between connected components became more consistent, while labels that had once been pushed into whatever space remained began appearing where another mage would expect to find them. His private annotations persisted in the margins, still speaking of weight, pressure and points where mana might catch, but the diagrams themselves surrendered those substitutions one by one in favor of accepted terminology.

Lucavion said nothing while she examined them. He had settled farther back in his chair, though his attention followed each movement of her pen, particularly whenever its tip hovered without descending. When Elara adjusted two pages to compare their outer rings, he leaned forward and rested one forearm against the table, his gaze moving between the same points she inspected.

The final circle remained inelegant. One junction sat slightly too close to the intake line, and the lower curve carried enough pressure in its stroke to betray the swordsman who had drawn it. Yet the formation was coherent, correctly labeled and sufficiently balanced for supervised activation.

’He did listen.’

That did not make the first five attempts any less offensive.

Elara gathered the pages into alignment and closed the folder over them. ”The first five are unacceptable. The next four are poor, although no longer offensively so.” She rested her palm on the cover before adding, ”The remainder could be shown to another mage without requiring you to conceal the name of whoever instructed you.”

Lucavion considered the verdict for a moment before reaching across the table to reclaim the loose notes she had separated earlier. He didn’t answer right away — turned one of the pages over first, reading his own scrawled definition on the back. Then, without looking up: ”So I improved.”

”It was permission to continue. Do not become greedy.”

His fingers paused over the papers. He said nothing further, though the corner of his mouth moved slightly before he let the subject go.

Elara moved the folder aside and drew one of the clean formation plates from the prepared stack. She placed it before him, followed by the ink, then rotated the standard [Mana Light] diagram until it faced his side of the table.

Lucavion’s attention shifted from her to the untouched surface. He straightened in his chair and rolled the pen once between his fingers before setting its tip above the plate.

”Now,” Elara said, ”we determine whether you learned anything that survives contact with mana.”