More Than Meets The Eye

“Eternal Freeze!” A wave of ice shot out from Arno’s katana, encapsulating several wolf-like demonic beasts before him.

Their matted black fur silhouetted against the green and brown grass. With each step, they left behind an energetic presence that briefly burned where they had previously stepped, like a dark fire.

Without wasting a second, Arno dashed forward, slicing a few beasts in half. The ice from his spell disappeared quickly, as did the remains of his opponents as they turned to frozen red fragments.

The rest of the beasts growled and snarled, staring Arno down with their dark, glowing red demonic eyes.

They all lunged toward him one by one, but he easily dodged them. Another one leaped forward as he blocked it with his blade, the beast’s mouth slobbering on the katana as it bared its fangs at the mage.

“Frozen Blade.” The katana turned to ice, freezing the beast’s snout, which allowed him to behead it.

He plunged his sword into the ground as a giant light blue magic circle appeared underneath him and the rest of the beasts.

“Arctic Authority.”

The surface turned into ice in front of him, and the remaining beasts began to slip. Using a quick burst of movement, Arno finished off his opponents. After freezing the blood on the blade, he shook it off and sheathed his katana.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, which had accumulated because of the sun's heat beaming down on him, the beads of sweat he flicked off his wrist turned into tiny icicles.

He heard a low whistle followed by some clapping, which caused him to draw his blade again in the direction of the noise.

“Impressive. Not every day someone your age can single-chant cast spells, let alone one from a Derivative Trace.” A strange man applauded Arno, standing just at the edge of the treeline.

“Who are you?”

“Don’t be afraid. I’m not here to cause harm.” The man held his hands up in surrender.

He wore a white robe with an obsidian-colored, cracked face mask that only covered his mouth and left eye. His right eye glowed a dark purple as he stared at Arno, expertly hiding his intentions.

“But you would reveal yourself to someone who was just in conflict?” Arno confronted him, trying not to reveal his uncertainty about the situation.

“Hmm…You’re right, but I’ve wanted to meet you, Arno WhiteHart. The name’s Crow.”

“How do you know who I am?” The young mage pointed his blade towards Crow.

“I know a lot, more than you could ever possibly imagine.” The masked man replied, his left eye glowing brightly.

“What do you want from me?” Arno gripped the handle of his katana tightly, itching to take a swing at the stranger if he tried anything.

“Your classmate, Lawrence Blackwood.”

Arno furrowed his eyebrow, hearing his ex-rival’s brother’s name. “And what of that magicless patrician?”

“Oh, I’ll have you know he’s not so magicless as you say,” Crow said smugly, folding his arms.

“What do you mean?”

“Just watch him and wait and see. I’m sure you’ll take great interest in him once you do.” Crow yawned once as he turned around and walked into the dense forest.

“Follow my advice, you won’t regret it.” His voice echoed as he disappeared.

Arno hesitated to follow the man but didn’t want to risk walking into an ambush. He instead opted to leave quickly, returning to the Capital.

----

In front of Lawrence stood a girl with long black hair that floated in the light breeze that brushed past them.

She had amethyst-colored eyes and wore a black and brown school uniform with an insignia shaped like a maroon-colored shield with a white horse sewn onto her jacket. Her beauty rendered Lawrence momentarily speechless, briefly mesmerizing him with her appearance.

“Lawrence…is that really you?”

His musings were interrupted as he realized she was the girl from the photo in his room.

“I…” She stammered, reaching one hand out towards him as she came in to hug him tightly.

His body tensed, not expecting the hug. He awkwardly held his hands behind the girl, unsure if he should touch her.

“I’m so happy you’re alive…”

She sounded like she was on the verge of tears as her grip on him tightened.

“I’m sorry.” He gently held her by her shoulders and separated promptly. “I can’t recall who you are.”

“What…?” Her voice cracked in a high pitch.

There was a brief but very awkward lull before he found the courage to reply to her. “Unfortunately, I’m suffering from amnesia, so I don’t have any memories I can recall.”

She looked over at Bernard, who nodded to corroborate his story.

“Oh, I see…” She lowered her head disappointedly. She was frozen in place, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

I can’t say I blame her. I can’t imagine what she would have gone through if she had been close to Lawrence.

He’d have to find things with enough significance to activate his supposed ability to recover Lawrence’s fragmented memory. At the moment, he has zero recollection of her. But his habit of wanting to know everything was getting the better of him.

“Um, if you’ll allow it, I want to talk with you later. Perhaps it would help me.”

“Maybe…” She whispered, her voice almost drowned out by the buzz of the crowds, before walking in the opposite direction, almost in a daze.

He was conflicted about whether to pursue her or let her process everything, but Bernard seemed to have read his mind. “Just leave her be, Lawrence.”

The young man nodded in agreement, although he was still uncertain it was the right choice, rather than the logical one.

If we go to school together, I will see her later anyway.

They then continued on their way to the Institute, turning right at the corner of Rainburrow Street.

Only a minute later did he speak, unable to contain his curiosity. “Who was that?”

“Third Princess of the Wagner Royal Family, Eva Van Wagner,” Bernard revealed nonchalantly.

Lawrence stared at him with utter incredulity, unable to fully process what Bernard relayed to him.

Princess?! I didn’t expect her to be royalty.

From her academy attire, she looked like an average schoolgirl to Lawrence, although he hadn’t paid much attention to details in his old life to verify what an average schoolgirl would look like.

“She may not look like much, but the reason is that she lives in the shadows of her older siblings, especially the eldest, Leonard, the current Paladin.”

Sounds similar to Lawrence’s experiences, as evidenced by one memory of him conversing with Corinne.

“Paladin?” Lawrence parroted, intrigued by the title, he’d only heard it referenced in his memory fragments but wasn’t sure what it signified.

“Yes, a title given to the most powerful mage in Exalta. It’s a major feat to attain the rank and an even greater one to retain it.”

“What do you mean?” Lawrence asked, brushing past a middle-aged man holding a crate of corn.

“As you may or may not know, every country in the Southern Hemisphere is in a never-ending conflict with almost everyone, especially the Tricrown region to the West, and we’re no exception, nor are our allies.”

They walked past the famous Imperial Academy clock tower, a few blocks away, as it struck just before noon. Rumors claim the clock tower is where the Chancellor of the Academy resides, but it is where the magus alumni gather in secret as well.

Lawrence gazed upon its golden glazed stone exterior. The top was as narrow as a needle, almost penetrating the clouds.

“So you should believe many people, including the Paladins, always die. Leonard has been one for barely a year, your father being his predecessor.”

Yes, I recall Lawrence calling Jacob a Paladin when he was talking to Corinne.

“He revolutionized how we use magic in everyday life as we know it decades ago when he was not much older than you are now. He’s the reason this country is much more technologically advanced, second only to the Tricrown region. He quite literally ushered us into a new age.”

They stopped in front of a giant building that almost seemed like a tumor in the city.

“We’re here now.”

The Institute’s architecture was vastly different from that of the surrounding buildings. It was mainly square, aside from the triangle-angled roof it had. Compared to the other buildings around them, which had intricate details that broke up the typical square shape, it was easy to tell that it was a hospital.

Bernard opened the heavy wooden and steel door, letting Lawrence pass as they entered the lobby filled with people sitting in dark wooden chairs, reading books or conversing with one another.

Some seemed to recognize the Blackwood son and tried to stare without him noticing.

They approached the receptionist, a young woman who seemed to be in her mid-twenties. In Lawrence’s eyes, she was quite pretty with her tied-back dark brown hair and caramel-colored eyes.

“Hi, we’re here to see Dr. Lyndale for Lawrence Blackwood.” Bernard greeted her warmly, like the giant teddy bear he was.

“Of course. The doctor’s been expecting you. I’ll take you to him right now." She replied, getting up from her seat and escorting the two to the back.

They went to the next floor and down some halls until they arrived at “Room 311.”

She graciously opened the door for them as they entered. Inside, a man wearing a white coat and gloves looked up to greet them.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived, Lawrence.” He said enthusiastically. He had short brown hair and wore circular-framed glasses. He was about as friendly as any doctor should be.

“Hello, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Dr. Kratz tells me you have amnesia, possibly due to a traumatic brain injury?”

Lawrence nodded as the doctor motioned for him to sit on the table in the middle of the room.

“I see. It's a good thing that analysis is my specialty.” He said with a confident grin, tightening his gloves.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m capable of using the Derivative Trace of Sound, so I used it to apply it to medicine since the technology to scan the inside of the human body is not the best.”

So, ultrasound. I’m surprised magic can be applied to something like that. I’m even more astonished that humans can use magic like that.

Lawrence recalled the information stored in his memories of what he knew about magic. Derivative Traces are the fusion of at least two of the five main traces based on each of the five Assiahen demigods: Infernidius, Aquaiem, Aero, Feradium, and Rhideus. Most mages can’t use Derivative Traces. I’d love to meet some who can.

Dr. Lyndale held his hands to the sides of Lawrence’s head and closed his eyes. Lawrence could hear a low hum and felt the air around him vibrate a little.

After about a minute, Dr. Lyndale moved his hands to other parts of the young man’s body until the humming stopped, and he reopened his eyes with a half-relieved and half-stumped expression.

“So…?” Lawrence asked in half-hearted anticipation.

“Hmm…from what I can see, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re about as healthy as anyone else.”

“So, how do you explain his amnesia?” Bernard asked, chiming in on the conversation.

“As Dr. Kratz said, it’s probably smoke inhalation due to the nature of events that unfolded, but even then, his lungs and brain are healthy with no obvious signs of damage. The amnesia could probably be short-term, but if nothing changes after some time, please give me another visit.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lyndale.” Lawrence hopped off the table as he and Bernard waved the good doctor goodbye and promptly exited the room.

“Let’s just hope it’s like he said and only short-term,” Bernard said as they walked down the hall after exiting the examination room.

Let’s hope I can stop using this lie soon.

They exited the hospital and once again onto the busy streets, as Lawrence’s stomach growled. He clutched it, embarrassed by the sound as he looked over at the retired knight.

“Are you hungry? Because I am.” Bernard chuckled slightly, rubbing his beard.

Lawrence hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday, and although it was late, he promised Aria he would eat a big breakfast. Better late than never.

“Sure, I could go for something.”

“Great, I’ll take you to my friend’s diner, the best food you can get in the city.”