When Griffith spoke, it was with a heavy amount of skepticism. He was a small boy with long golden curls that covered his head like a mop. He seemed to have trouble sitting still, constantly adjusting his hair to get a better view.
What surprised Gwyn was that his tone didn't sound malicious, more like a genuine curiosity.
"That's what they keep telling me."
"Aren't you like… three hundred years old? How come you don't know magic yet?"
Griffith's words were much louder and accusatory than he probably intended, not knowing that humans do not live to be three hundred.
This seemed to silence the current uproar, only to spark another. This one, focused on Gwyn.
A child rose from her desk in a ravenous frenzy.
"Yeah, why don't you know magic? All adults know magic!"
"Maybe she's stupid!"
The class laughed, and the teacher smirked at the comment, allowing the uproar to continue.
"I just got here!"
Gwyn had to stop herself from slamming her hands on her desk, which seemed to be a combination of several differently flavored sheet cakes loaded with rainbow sprinkles.
They are only children, Gwynevere. You have to relax.
She took a deep breath and carefully considered her next move, trying to sound reasonable and elicit a sympathetic response from her classmates.
"I haven't been here long. I don't know what magic is as of—"
This only made everyone laugh harder.
"She doesn't know what magic is! She doesn't know what magic is!"
The kids chanted, mocking her.
"Wow! I didn't know the Chosen Ones could suck so hard!"
A child pointed and laughed at Gwynevere's face.
The young woman had to make considerable effort not to strangle the nearest child, who so happened to be Griffith.
Mrs. Farcroft tried to silence the students.
"All right, students. Calm down, calm down."
A few kids stuck out their tongues. Gwyn was pretty sure one of them flipped her off.
Her undersized desk could not accommodate the amount of shrinking she wished to do within it.
The teacher stared directly at Gwyn when she spoke again.
"Now, Class. It's not her fault she was summoned or that she's such an inept Chosen One. Let us focus. Does anyone know how magic came to be?"
One hand shot up before any other. The teacher called on him.
"Hermin."
"It was gifted, actually." Hermin was a small boy with curly orange hair. "By a God... but I don't know who."
"Surprisingly close. It wasn't necessarily gifted. But it was through the love of those two Gods that we can cast magic today." The teacher looked out at the class. "Do we know who?"
When no one replied, she looked to Gwynevere Grim, who obviously wouldn't know the answer.
"How about you, Chosen One?"
Gwyn stared blank-faced. She hated being called out in class, but this was purely malicious on Mrs. Farcroft's part.
Before she could attempt an answer, Griffith commented about the Chosen One.
"You're like three hundred, and you don't know anything? Life must suck for you."
"I'm not three hundred!" Gwyn snapped. "I'm nineteen!"
Silence for a moment. First a chuckle, then an explosion. Students rolled out of their desks, howling in laughter.
"Nineteen! No way!"
"I'm forty-seven!"
"I'm fifty!"
"She's probably still in diapers!"
"Yeah! Check her pants!"
"We can all gang up on her! She's half our age!"
All eyes were on Gwyn as the children around the room started shouting their ages and making fun of her further. Being in diapers at nineteen years old was nothing to be ashamed of. Some of them were still in diapers at that age, although they'd be too proud to admit it.
Griffith snickered and blew the hair out of his face.
"She probably won't even live to fifty, already looking that old."
Gwyn's cheeks flushed with anger. She stood from her desk.
"Oh, come on, Chosen One; you can't leave us now. Class." The teacher raised the stick in her hands, and everyone quieted down for a moment. "Let's not be mean to our new savior; she just got here."
This belittlement irritated Gwyn even more, but as she walked through the classroom, they remained silent. When her hand touched the door, a flash startled her.
"Open the door no more!"
Mrs. Farcroft pointed the stick from earlier at the door. When pushed upon, it did not budge. It wasn't locked. The handle had moved; it was now simply immovable to Gwyn.
"See, Class. That is how magic works, at least one way it works. Ms. Grim, please find yourself back in your seat."
Gwyn no longer relented to their antics.
"I think I'll stand over here."
"Alright, if that's what you wish."
Mrs. Farcroft turned away and continued her lesson to the rest of the class.
"So let us combine our lessons. Animals and magic, doesn't that sound fun, Class?"
The students cheered since the Chosen One's arrival wouldn't fully interrupt their lesson, which was surely super important and not at all meaningless.
Mrs. Farcroft touched a specific spot on the blackboard with the stick, and a moving picture of a small animal appeared.
"What is this creature?"
The class shouted in unison.
"A wabbajack!"
"Correct!"
The wabbajack appeared to Gwyn as a small mouse with long ears and a tail like a lasso.
"This creature uses its tail to catch smaller creatures throughout Keceo. Wrapping them up and either devouring them while they are trapped in its clutches or strangling them to death."
The image on the board ran in place, and its tail spun like a real lasso.
Gwyn was now much more intrigued, uncrossing her arms as she listened a little closer.
Brutal.
"Whoa, so cool!"
A child shouted. A flash hit him, and he put down the piece of his desk he had been trying to consume; it instantly reattached itself to where he had stolen it.
"Tarrence! What did I tell you about eating the desk?!"
Mrs. Farcroft pointed her stick at the boy. No words were uttered from her to cast the spell.
"That it's really tasty…?"
The boy asked, dejectedly.
"No! That if you eat your desk, you will have to go to the healer and get it removed before it rips itself from your body! Now put that down!"
The child returned the second piece of the desk to where it belonged. It was some sort of donut, like a French curler.
The teacher sighed, exasperated, and returned to her lesson. The image of the wabbajack was now devouring some creature smaller than itself.
The class was in awe.
A kid in the back determined he had vital information to share.
"My dad had a wabbajack, and it killed my pet hamster!"
"That's so cool! I want my dad's wabbajack to kill my pet hamster!"
The class chuckled, and Gwyn rolled her eyes, as did Mrs. Farcroft.
Hamster? So they do have familiar animals on Keceo.
The Chosen One leaned up against the door, becoming more interested by the minute.
"Now, calm down, class. How do we combine these two things? Wabbajacks and magic?"
She held out one hand for each emphasized word. The class leaned forward, eager anticipation on their faces. When no one answered her, the teacher raised her stick and shouted.
"Wabbajack, appear before our class.
Watch and make this moment last!"
A flash of white and the creature described appeared on the mostly empty desk in front of the teacher. It stood still, curiously surveying the class.
"Woahhhhhh."
The entire class said in unison.
Gwyn found her eyes going wide herself. This lesson was far more compelling than being harassed by adult-aged children.
"For the matter of argument, this is a real wabbajack." Mrs. Farcroft extends her hand, and it jumped into her palm. "There are multiple components to making magic work."
The wabbajack started doing a little dance.
"Firstly, an understanding of what you are summoning. If you, the caster, the wizard, the mage, the sorcerer. Whatever you like to call yourself, it doesn't matter." She cleared her throat. "If the mage has no real idea what they are summoning, the spell will always fail."
The wabbajack suddenly made a few dramatic rotations, as if it were having a heart attack, and fell over, disappearing into nothingness.
A student stood to get a closer look.
"Cool! You do that with your stick?"
Hermin couldn't help himself.
"Errrrrm, actually... that's a catalyst, specifically a wand."
"Correct, Hermin." Mrs. Farcroft said. "And yes, very cool, indeed."
The teacher held up her wand. It was mostly brown, but it had hints of blue like water droplets throughout its surface.
I'm pretty sure Mr. Keeper had a wand, too. I thought it was odd that people carried wood around with them.
"Wooooooooow! So that's what you always use to cast spells at us?"
"Yes. Now... as I was saying."
A glare met the students. They immediately silenced themselves.
"Whatever you cast has to rhyme and be spoken perfectly. If you misspeak or the rhyme is not convincing enough, the spell will fail."
She pulled out her wand again.
"Wabbajack appear,
so clear and near!"
Another wabbajack manifested itself on the desk, but this one has denser fur, like a chinchilla. After seeing this wabbajack, it seemed much more realistic. Its ears twitched, it cleaned its whiskers, and it moved its paws in a fidgeting idle stance.
"This one is much more realistic than its counterpart because of two factors. One, I cast the spell with clearer rhymes using fewer words. Although I cannot verify with you, the mental image I provided was much more accurate than the true creature's appearance. This action requires more of your soul energy, also known as mana. If you run out of mana while casting, you can die."
The teacher stepped back and leaned against the board, looking winded.
A child shot like a bolt of lightning from his deck, ravenous from this exciting knowledge.
"Wow! I didn't know that casting magic can kill you!"
"That's so freaking awesome and scary!"
Gwyn spoke under her breath.
"Scary indeed."
"That's why casting is dangerous, and no one should be using magic without understanding how it works or knowing their limitations."
A bell chimed loudly in the distance. The teacher looked surprised, losing track of the time.
"That's all for today's lesson class! Don't forget to tell your parents about tomorrow!"
"We won't!"
The kids said in unison as they collected their satchels and backpacks and headed towards the exit.
Gwyn, who was closest to the door, reached for the handle, but the teacher called out to her.
"Chosen One."
Gwyn groaned. A sharp pain shot up her leg. Griffith kicked her as he walked by and stuck out his tongue. Gwyn tried to grab him by his collar.
"Chosen One!"
Gwyn stopped her attempted assault and walked to where the teacher was standing a few feet away.
"Yes?"
Gwyn acted innocent, expecting nothing but insults.
"Don't let everyone's rudeness bring you to despair."
This comment surprised Gwyn. She looked around the room as though this wasn't the person who was here a moment ago.
"Is this some trick to build me up so you can tear me down again?"
"I didn't change my heart, but I can tell you aren't malicious. When you told me your age… It reminded me of my child when he was that young." She looked Gwyn up and down. "How defenseless, powerless—"
Gwyn narrowed her eyes.
"Is this supposed to be helping?"
"Worthless, naive, pitiful."
Gwyn stared blankly.
"I think I'll be—"
"I'm getting there…" A smile creased her lips. "Obviously, you are much more um… womanly than an Elven nineteen-year-old, but the truth of the matter is. This is preparing you for worse comments in the future. Enjoy these days because, at some point, you may run into some of our people who have a lot worse to throw at you than childish insults." The teacher looked at Gwyn's leg. "Or bruised shins."
Gwyn crossed her arms.
"I haven't done anything. Why would people hate me?"
"It comes with the title, so you'd better get used to it." Mrs. Farcroft blew a few ghost-white strands of hair that slipped from her bun out of her face. "I'll keep these lessons brief, but I expect to see you tomorrow. For some reason, I feel like you will be different than the others."
Gwyn nodded, but didn't say anything.
"Oh, and Chosen One."
Gwyn took her hand off the door handle.
"Don't attack my students."
"I won't, Mrs. Farcroft."
A slight smile appeared on Gwyn's face as she exited the classroom.
Murmurs in the hallway had already started. Gwyn was wondering which was the bigger obstacle: surviving school or killing the King of Terror.