I Loaded the Occult Panel

While he packed his things, Isabella pulled a small notebook from her coat pocket and turned to a fresh page.

”By the way, Richard.”

”Hmm?”

”About the list of materials you just recited.”

She picked up a pencil and started writing.

”For the double-overwrite materials... do you need practice exercises or reference templates?”

”Both.”

”Then I’ll have someone send you a set of exercises from the Imperial Capital University prep course. As for templates, I’ll pick out a few samples with a good difficulty curve from the library.”

”Is that enough?”

”Plenty.””Ancient Gaelic,” she said, continuing to write. ”How much do you know?”

”I only just started memorizing the dictionary...”

”Then I’ll just send you a facsimile of The Structure and Evolution of Ancient Gaelic. Professor McPhee compiled it twenty years ago; it’s the required textbook for the Department of Classics at Imperial Capital University.”

”Professor McPhee?”

”Yes. He also comes from a Hunter family in the Gaelic Highlands. He studies the ancient Celtic inscription system and is an authority in the field.”

She resumed writing.

”Medieval church liturgical Latin... this one is a bit trickier. The Church doesn’t circulate its internal texts, but the academic system has a few annotated editions. I’ll have someone pick out two that are suitable for a Newcomer and mail them to you.”

”And the extended reference chart for the Late Alexandrian School variants.”

She drew a small checkmark on the paper. ”For this one, I’ll go to the Imperial Capital University Library and copy it out for you myself.”

”You have to copy it yourself?”

”Only lecturers and above have the clearance to borrow the extended reference chart.”

”It’s a minor thing.” She waved a hand. ”I go to the library to copy down plenty of things every year anyway.”

Richard looked at the lines of neat handwriting in her small notebook.

Image telefacsimiles, exclusive borrowing privileges, errand-running students... for his aunt, these perks were just part of the daily routine.

But for him, it would probably take years before he even scratched the surface of any one of them.

He had to admit, being an associate professor with a bunch of students to boss around sounded like a pretty sweet deal.

Isabella tucked the notebook back into her coat pocket.

Outside, the snow was falling thicker.

”The snow is coming down hard now. Wait for it to lighten up before you head back.”

”In that case, Auntie, could I ask you a few more questions?”

Richard figured that since he was just waiting around anyway, he might as well make the most of it. Who knew when he’d get to see Isabella again?

With an associate professor sitting right in front of him answering whatever he asked, it would be a shame not to pick her brain a bit more.

Isabella set the teapot down.

”You’ve asked enough questions tonight to fill Sophia’s quota for a month.”

”But I happen to have the time. What else do you want to know?”

Richard pushed a sheet of tracing paper across the table.

”In the first two lines, I read ’Singer to the Night’ and ’Silent Greeter of the Light.’”

Isabella pondered this for a moment.

”The third line here translates to: ’Those outside the door, those inside the door.’”

”Connecting the first three lines of the second set, it reads: ’Singer to the Night,’ ’Silent Greeter of the Light,’ ’Those outside the door, those inside the door.’”

”This is a two-way declaration for the Boundary Stone Array. It welcomes those coming from the other side of the veil, and sees off those departing from this side.”

Over the next hour or so, Richard handed over the twelve sets of inscriptions, one by one.

For each set, Isabella wrote down the corresponding annotations and a guiding thought process on her own blank sheet of paper.

She didn’t do the thinking for him; she merely pointed out which directions might yield better results.

She wrote all her supplements and corrections on her paper in minuscule handwriting.

When they reached the seventh set, she paused.

”Water.”

Understanding the cue, Richard jogged to the outer room to pour her a glass of water.

When he returned, Isabella was massaging her temples.

Richard handed her the cup.

”Thanks for doing this.”

”It’s nothing.”

She took the cup and took a sip.

”We’ll stop here for the Boundary Stone Array.” She picked up her pen again.

”What else do you need help with?”

Richard pulled the traced copy of the Bronze Fragment from the pile of rubbings.

Isabella took the copy.

”’Oak for bone, mist for clothing; blood for a pact, water for an answer.’”

”A typical Druidic sacrificial invocation.”

She tore off a small slip of paper and scribbled a few lines.

”I’m going to draw up a reading list. You can track these down to read when you get back.”

After writing down a few titles, Isabella held up the slip and studied it.

Then, she pulled a full sheet of manuscript paper from the other side of the desk and started over.

Richard sat across from her, waiting.

When she reached the second column, he realized something was wrong.

”Auntie?”

Isabella didn’t reply. Her fountain pen kept scratching across the paper.

”...How long is this going to take?”

”Drink your tea. Just wait a moment.”

Richard picked up his teacup again.

The tea had gone completely cold. He took a sip, then another.

The scratching of the pen persisted for several more minutes.

Richard shifted his gaze to the manuscript paper. A dense list of book titles already filled more than half the page.

Isabella finally put her pen down.

”Done.”

Richard reached over and took the paper.

”Thirty-six books in total. That’s not too bad.”

Isabella pointed at the page.

”For my required reading in university, I had to get through around ten books in a single semester.”

”There’s no rush. You can start with the materials I’m putting together for you over the next couple of days. These thirty-six books are what you’ll need to study after you test into the prep course. At your current pace, thirty-six should barely last you through those two years.”

”Look at this column.” She stood up and boxed the first column with her pencil.

”This column covers the foundational materials for Inscriptiology.”

”These are just the basics?”

”The basics,” she repeated, leaving no room for negotiation.

”Inscriptiology is the skeleton. If the skeleton isn’t built properly, no matter how much meat you add later, it won’t hold up. If you don’t master this, you won’t be able to dismantle Spell Formulas later, nor will you be able to write appraisals for evil creatures.”

She pointed to the second column.

”The second column is all annotated editions for various occult rituals. You just need a general understanding of these.”

”As for the third column, these are all academic critical studies of the Abyss Tradition.”

Richard paid closer attention.

”Critical studies,” Isabella emphasized.

”Guides will warn you never to touch the Abyss Tradition, but they’re talking about practical application. On an academic level, researching the Abyss Tradition is unavoidable for anyone walking the path of a Scholar. We have to know what it is so we can recognize it when we encounter it. This column is for awareness, which is entirely different from practice.”

”...I can tell the difference.”

”As for the fourth column.”

Isabella tapped her pen against the top of the fourth column.

”Out of the seven books here, six are introductions and case studies for the major traditions. The first five each cover one major tradition, the sixth covers the minor traditions, and the last one...”

Richard followed her pen.

In the spot for the seventh book in the fourth column, a single title was written.

The Influence of Late Alexandrian School Variants on Western Continent Sealology

Author: Isabella Ashford, New Calendar Year 1904

Richard had basically guessed as much.

”Auntie, is this your... master’s thesis?” he asked, doing some quick mental math on the timeline.

”It’s actually my doctoral dissertation. It’s been published for almost ten years now.”

Isabella picked up her teacup and took a sip. ”It caused a small stir in the academic community at the time.”

Richard tactfully took the cue.

”Is it still being cited?”

”According to last year’s statistics, it was cited a hundred and twenty-seven times across various academic journals in the past five years.”

The corners of Isabella’s mouth curled up slightly, and her pace quickened just a fraction.

”During my defense, my advisor commented that it was ’one of the most solidly researched doctoral dissertations in the Department of Classics over the past decade.’”

”One of the most?”

”...It was ’the most solidly researched.’”

Isabella chopped off the ’one of.’

”There was no ’one of’ that year.”

Richard nodded earnestly.

”I’ll definitely give this one a thorough read.”

He then asked a question he had been holding back for a long time.

”Auntie, when did you start walking this path?”

Isabella placed her teacup back on its saucer.

”When I was sixteen, your grandfather dropped me off at the doors of the preparatory course for the Department of Classics at Imperial Capital University.”

”Two years of prep school, followed by six years of undergraduate and graduate studies.”

”Those years as a student laid the foundation.”

”After graduating, I chose to stay on at the university as a teaching assistant for my advisor. The job involved grading homework for undergrads and grad students, marking papers, and sitting at the back of the classroom watching my advisor lecture.”

”Sitting at the back of the classroom watching him lecture?”

”Right. I sat there for three years.”

There was no grievance in her eyes; if anything, she looked a bit nostalgic.

”In those three years, I listened to every single one of my advisor’s lectures countless times. First, I just listened to the content to see how he taught it. Then, I would think about how I would teach it if I were the one at the podium.”

”By the end of those three years, I could teach the exact same class better than he could.”

”Better?”

”At least in my own opinion, it was better.”

Isabella picked up her teacup.

”But the academic world runs on seniority. I was a teaching assistant, and he was an associate professor. No matter how well I could teach, I just had to keep sitting at the back of the classroom.”

She took a sip of tea.

”The lecturer phase lasted another few years.”

”A lecturer’s job is to teach all the fringe courses no one else wants to touch. Things like Introduction to Ancient Celtic Sealology, Case Studies of Pre-Roman Rituals, and Textual Criticism of Early Alexandrian School Literature.”

”And when were you promoted to associate professor?”

”In my early thirties. I don’t remember exactly which year.”

Richard got the distinct feeling she was being intentionally vague about the exact year.

”Auntie, how old are you—”

”Drink your tea.”

Isabella shot her nephew a side-eye and pushed his freshly refilled teacup toward him. ”Otherwise the tea will get cold.”

Richard obediently picked up his cup.

He took a sip, understanding that this topic was officially closed.

Isabella glanced at the ink bottle resting on the desk.

The Latin maxim engraved on its side gleamed faintly under the lamplight.

”’Truth is difficult, yet lovable.’ That’s the phrase I really want to pass on to you.”

”The Latin word amabilis literally means ’worthy of being loved.’”

”Truth itself is cold, hard, and difficult. It can make young people throw their entire youth into a sea of books and never resurface.”

Isabella offered a slightly self-deprecating smile.

”But she is worthy of being loved.”

”Those who can endure the lonely years of quiet study will naturally come to understand this.”