Arthur strolls along the empty white-rock paths under the dark night sky, with only the moon illuminated in it. A light shines from the top of all the trees planted in the grass that makes up everything the path does not touch. The light is enough to read the text no matter where he is.
The book is open, but he does not read it. He believes he has mastered its teachings already. He is directionless, waiting for something to come to him.
His search comes to a halt at a field of white-sand particles, much like his own training grounds. In it, he sees a familiar figure. Over and over again, as Arthur treads through the field, semi-spherical balls of raging red and orange light appear, launch, and explode.
At some point, the figure's voice becomes apparent.
"EKTQZT, IGSR, QRR YOKT, LHITKT, TBHSGRT, ROLEIQKUT!."
Arthur recognized his voice, and that combed black hair that could be seen at intervals before the fire was launched. He smiled actively upon seeing this, and closed the book he held.
"Derrick!" He projected, once he was no more than four meters away. The figure stopped his chanting for a moment. Arthur imagined he turned to look, before chanting once more.
"EKTQZT, IGSR, QRR, YOKT, LHITKT." A ball of swirling fire was created. It was hardly held together, and individual, incoherent spirals could be seen. It illuminated the near area with a dim light spectrum from yellow to red.
Derrick looked somewhat desperate, and annoyed, but once he recognized him, he put on a face more suitable for greeting a friend. "Oh, hey." He said.
His face, and the bare parts of his forearms were covered in sweat, but his breathing was stable.
"Are you practicing your fireball for your Spellcasting assignment?"
"Yeah, but as you can see, my control is not that good. By the way, I haven't seen you in my Magic Combat classes. Who is your instructor?"
"It's sensible that you haven't seen me in that class, I'm not in the Mage facility after all."
"Really? I thought for sure that you were a mage, you didn't carry a sword, and you definitely didn't look like a brute."
"Well, I appreciate the compliment, but I found that Magic is not my destiny. Say, are you in the Honor Class? The level of your fireball is appropriate considering it's only your second day here. The first assignment for the Core classes shouldn't be due until next week."
"No, I'm not part of the honor class, but I'm practicing to join it in the second semester."
"What's your surname, have you received one yet?"
"Dunwell."
House Dunwell is a Viscount family in the Eastern part of the Viera Empire. He's a noble.
Arthur moves closer to him.
"Ambition, intellect, and resolve. You have a good character. I too wish to join the Honor Class. Would you like to work toward that goal together?"
His weary-intense eyes stare at the reached-out hand in front of him, dart up to the face of the person with the soft eyes that seemed to look far beyond the present.
"He's just a regular student. What part of recruiting a noble as a companion is such a meaningless feat to him?" He thought.
"I was so close to making it to the Honor Class. I was ranked 22 out of all applicants, yet I did not see Arthur anywhere near it. The way he speaks as a commoner, and regular student is irritating, but he is the brother of the most probable Saint-candidate. There must be something special about him if he is acting so arrogant."
"Maybe the Saint has plans for me? Well if he does, I still wouldn't accept it."
"Arthur. I don't know what you want from me, but since you want to use me, I'll use you as well."
"Alright, let's get to the top together.