Harrumphing, he said, “I’ll have you know, warding requires plenty of artistry and imagination. If you just follow the book, any two-bit ward breaker can unravel your wards in seconds. Out in the real world, nothing is more respectable than a good warder. Except, perhaps, a ward breaker.”
“Ward breakers are respected?” That didn’t sound right. Criminals breaking into places they shouldn’t had to be on the opposite end of the respect spectrum. But then, anyone in diablery class had to have their perspectives skewed.
Irene had a brief thought about whether or not that applied to herself as well.
“Of course,” Randal said, oblivious to her thoughts. “Someone dies and their family can’t get into their home, or room, or safe. Who gets called? Ward breakers. Can’t sell a house with half the property warded off, can you? Or think about the villainous hideouts, ancient crypts, and other such areas that regular mage-knights can’t break into easily. They’ll hire on a breaker to get them in.
“But don’t take my word for it. Sign up for warding next year. It’s a blast. And the professor is completely insane.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good quality for a professor to have,” Irene said with a frown.
Randal shrugged. “Oh, she’s good at her job. Don’t doubt that. Just don’t be surprised when you walk into class and find her standing on the ceiling. Or wind up going through class backwards.”
Irene blinked. “How does–”
“Alright,” Eva said, interrupting their conversation. “I heard you all had an interesting class last time.”
You could say that again.
“Unfortunately, I was off being attacked by an insane nun of the Elysium Order. But don’t worry, I, and a few experts, had a chance to examine the thing. I thought I’d give you a little update on the creature that we’re calling an enigma.”
Irene blinked. Again. Elysium Order? What?
“You can’t just say that and expect us to ignore it,” someone said, echoing Irene’s thoughts.
Eva had the audacity to look confused. Clarity lit up in her eyes after a moment of thought. “Oh, sorry. It was a tautology, I know. What member of the Elysium Order isn’t insane?
“Anyway, that creature is something that has been infesting Hell as of late. They are not demons and, in fact, share more in common with zombies than actual living creature. They don’t have a virus that will infect you upon contact with their blood, but they’re almost impossible to kill permanently. Their organs will keep working even after their apparent death and they’ll slowly regenerate. Freezing it solid was probably the best choice, so good job to whoever thought of that.”
Irene had to agree there. While she was sure that Catherine could have done something more than get held up by its tentacles, locking it in a block of ice tidied everything up without much mess.
A dislocated shoulder was comparatively easy to explain away to the nurse and anyone she could have passed by in the halls. Being covered in blood was not.
Catherine set her phone down for the first time since she walked into the room. Looking out over the classroom, her eyes narrowed.
Until her gaze crossed Irene. Then, she smiled.
Irene shuddered.
“From now on,” the succubus said, “anytime we do any summoning in class, you must use what your books call tier three shackles. Those should hold the ‘enigmas’ without issue. At least long enough for us to deal with it.”
Eva clapped her hands together. “Now, since your summoning was interrupted last time, I’d feel bad if the rest of you didn’t get to at least make an attempt.”
Irene groaned. Eva was supposed to be the sensible one. The one who says that they still need more studying before any more attempts.
The class really needed proper supervision.
— — —
Martina Turner sat at her desk. The reports coming in were all positive. Not a one had her feeling down.
Average student attendance was up. Either the professors were being more interesting than normal or there was less reason to skip class.
Some of it might be related to the fact that zero teachers were on leave for any reason. No illnesses or worse. Less substitutes meant the students were less likely to skip. The regular teachers held more authority in that they could easily see who was absent and give them penalties.
No one wanted to flunk out of what was commonly seen as one of the worst magic academies on the continent. If they couldn’t succeed here, they couldn’t succeed anywhere.
The only substitute who managed to retain her students was Catherine. That was something of an interesting data point, though not wholly unexpected. Succubi simply had that certain allure that drew people to them.
Perhaps it would be a wise idea to order Catherine to sit in on classes randomly. Students would attend more in hopes of being in her presence.
Had to keep the numbers up, after all.
Especially with all the troubles plaguing the academy in the last two years.
There hadn’t been an incident in almost four months.
A record, Martina thought with a sarcastic tone.
Despite that long stretch of relative peace, word had definitely spread. Especially regarding the zombie incident under Dean Halsey’s tenure and the more recent demon-hybrid attack.
Established families, even those that couldn’t afford it, were looking at other academies to send their children to. Safer academies.
Pathetic.
The magical side of the world was a dangerous side of the world. Maybe that wasn’t true, and it was just that mages were more aware of the dangers that existed, but there was no reason to coddle children. Best expose them to it while in a relatively safe environment. Smash any preconceived notions about their safety as a mage early on.
Based on her security team’s handling of the hybrid incident, Martina felt confident in saying that Brakket Magical Academy was safe.
Relatively.
There were a handful of families that were not afraid. At least, not more afraid than they were interested. Her strategically leaked information about the diablery class was drawing in a few new student applications for next year, even a few prospective transfers for the later years.
Martina set her reports down on her desk and leaned back in her chair. She took out a bottle from the bottom drawer of her desk. Pouring herself a small glass of Hellfire, she pondered just what to do about school attendance.
They didn’t need money. The school governors had ensured that much. As such, families with a good amount of disposable money were not required.
But they did need fresh young bodies.
The parties interested because of the diablery were not enough to outweigh those leaving. Just enough to mitigate the damage, somewhat.
They still needed more.
Those extra bodies would have to come from first generation mages inducted as freshmen.
Martina scrawled a note down to ensure that the professors were well aware of their targets before the next round of student-hunting.
Not a hard task. Many first generation mages slipped through the cracks every year, condemned to go through their lives ignorant of the fact that they could be one of those rumored magic users.
Of course, having first generation mages wasn’t a bad thing. They would come into the magical world with open minds.
And would be far less prejudiced than their more magical-lineage-inclined counterparts.
No parents to tell them what magics were good and what were bad. No stories passed down to ‘warn’ them of certain types of magical creatures.
In other words, first generation mages would be far easier to induct into diabolical methods of magic.