18. Kal: (Second) First Day of School

  Kal hated school with a passion.

  He just never understood how the education system could kill creativity so easily.

  On paper, school was supposed to encourage learning, to expand young minds, to make students curious about the world.

  But in reality? It felt like a factory assembly to him. A place where everyone had to think the same, learn the same, and answer the same. If you stepped outside of the norm, you were wrong. If you dared to ask the wrong kind of question, you were ridiculed.

  Kal could still remember how in middle school his history teacher had shut him down when he just tried to ask if two seemingly unrelated events were actually connected to each other. The teacher had told him it was irrelevant and that he should focus on remembering the facts and dates instead.

  And it wasn’t just this specific teacher – it was most of them. He could count on one hand the amount of normal teachers he had over the years.

  He had wanted to learn. At first. He really had. But after getting dismissed over and over, he had given up.

  And it’s not like Uncle Rob or Aunt Jill tried to help him or anything. They never cared about his studies either. They only cared when he got terrible grades and they were called to school.

  Eventually, he found himself drifting through school, zoning out, daydreaming about music, sketching doodles and scribbling song lyrics in the back of his notebooks. That’s when everyone began calling him an airhead.

  His twin brother, though? He was the opposite.

  Even when he wasn’t paying attention, half asleep on his desk and whatnot, he somehow always knew the answers.

  Every time a teacher called on him, expecting him to be lost, he would answer perfectly. Effortlessly.

  He never told him how he always managed to do it.

  By the time he and his brother ran away from home, school had already become a distant, meaningless memory. He never even looked back.

  And now, in this new life, as he sat in his tiny classroom in Terenhill, he just wanted to leave.

  With so few children in the village, it made no sense to separate them into individual grades. Instead, all children aged 6 to 9 shared a single classroom, where they studied together for three years – each student receiving personalized assignments based on their age – before advancing to the 9 to 12 class, where they spent another three years.

  After that, it was up to the parents as middle school and high school weren’t mandatory.

  If a child showed exceptional promise, their parents could send them to Estenford, the closest town with actual academical facilities. But since Estenford was too far away to travel back and forth daily, the only option was boarding there – something most families in Terenhill simply couldn’t afford or were just outright against.

  So, for the majority of kids here, primary school was the beginning and also the end of their education.

  Kal drummed on the table with his fingers, already looking for an escape route as the children waited for their teacher to finish a conversation she was having outside, and enter the classroom.

  Meanwhile, he scanned the faces of his already familiar classmates – in Terenhill everyone knew each other.

  Gerrin Berell, the dairy farmer’s son, who had proudly called Kal his best friend, even though Kal still wasn’t sure how he felt about that title.

  Then, there was Stella Lynn, Bertan’s – the woodcarver and musician who constructed Kal’s lyroca – daughter. She was their age as well and Kal couldn’t forget how his parents had already shipped them since they were babies because Bertan was their good friend.

  She had dark brown hair always tied in two pigtails, and a pair of light blue eyes – the color of the sky on a sunny day. She was a very shy girl, and yet, she constantly tried to get Kal’s attention. Today was no different in that regard as she kept nagging him about when he’ll come to visit their house, that her father wanted to hear him playing the lyroca he made for him.

  Kal really didn’t know what to answer.

  “Whenever my parents decide to…?”

  The older kids had already been here for a year or more.

  Dain Holloway, 9, was the eldest. He was the son of the village’s blacksmith, and he already had the frame to match it – even at his age. He was tall and stocky, already looking ready to hammer metal if his father let him. He wasn’t exactly friendly and mostly kept to himself.

  Lena Faeran, also 9, was the oldest girl. She was the daughter of the village herbalist and healer, and Kal had seen her helping her mother to collect plants more than once. She was very talkative and often started conversations with Kal about the most random subjects. Kal always wondered if there was a catch to those, but even if there was, he was yet to figure it out.

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  The last two were 7 and 8 years old, a girl and a boy.

  Herron Miles, 8, came from the village hunter’s family. He was thin, quick, constantly sneaking up on people just to make them jump and show off how his father had taught him the silent walk of a hunter.

  And finally, Tessa Tonnel, 7, Balric’s – the carpenter – daughter. She was always laughing with everyone and doing pranks. Kal was scared of her, afraid of getting pranked. And so, he had exchanged less than fifteen words with her since he had met her.

  The rest of the kids in the village were either too young or too old to attend this class.

  Kal would have much rather been home with his mom and Azmira.

  After his parents’ argument the night before, things had still felt tense at breakfast, but one thing was agreed upon – Azmira would be teaching Kal magic for the duration of her stay in Terenhill to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself and others around him.

  There were no promises beyond that, though.

  Even if he truly turned out to be some genius mage, what would happen after Azmira left? Would he find another teacher? Or would his parents make him forget all about it and focus on the fields? He didn’t know, but honestly, for the moment, he didn’t care.

  All he knew was that in the next four months, he’d get to spend time with Azmira – one-on-one.

  ‘God, I know I never believed in you, but thank you!’ He kept thinking to himself.

  His parents had given him one strict rule – don’t tell anyone.

  If the village found out he was a mage, the entire Varren family’s status could change overnight. He could be treated differently, seen as an outsider, maybe even feared. After all, there were no mages in Terenhill, and Kal was born to non-mage parents which made the whole ordeal even more peculiar.

  It made sense. Kal understood the risk, and he promised to be careful.

  The classroom hushed suddenly as the door swung open, and in stepped Mrs. Keller, their teacher.

  She was a kind-looking woman in her mid forties, with auburn hair pulled onto a single braid behind her back. Even though her expression felt soft, there was a certain steadiness in her gaze.

  'The kind of gaze that only came from years of battling restless children into submission.' Kal assumed.

  “Good morning, everyone.” She smiled as she set down a stack of parchments and a small wooden writing board on her desk.

  A chorus of greetings filled the room and even Kal joined in.

  Then, Mrs. Keller turned her attention to her three new students who were all seated together around the same wooden round table.

  “Our new scholars.” She smiled warmly. “Welcome, Kal, Stella, and Gerrin.”

  Kal shifted slightly in his seat as all eyes landed on him.

  “This is their first year in school, so I expect the rest of you to be good examples.” She said, looking at the older children.

  Then, she turned her attention back to the newcomers.

  She gave Kal a small nod. “Your father must be proud to have you start school today.”

  Kal simply shrugged, not sure how to respond.

  If Reiner was proud, he didn’t show it this morning, disappearing to the fields fairly quickly. Elara and Lucas were the ones who escorted him to school today.

  Mrs. Keller turned to Stella, who was playing with the end of her sleeve. “And how are you feeling, Stella?”

  The girl hesitated before mumbling. “…okay.”

  “That’s great to hear.” Mrs. Keller’s smile didn’t waver as she turned to Gerrin. “And you, Gerrin? Excited?”

  “Very!” Gerrin bounced in his seat. “I already learned how to count to a thousand!”

  Some of the older students chuckled, and Mrs. Keller let out a soft laugh herself.

  “Well, then, I look forward to seeing just how much you three will learn this year.”

  She clapped her hands once, signaling the start of the school year. “Alright, let’s begin.”

  Then, she walked to the blackboard, picking up a small piece of white chalk.

  “For our younger students, you should’ve already studied the alphabet with your parents, so we’ll start with some reading and writing of simple words. Our older students will continue practicing longer reading passages and some short writing exercises.”

  She pointed at a wooden shelf at the side of the classroom. “You’ll find your writing slates there. Older students, pick yours up and start copying today’s passage. Younger students, you’ll be practicing with me.”

  Kal sighed internally. ‘Here we go again…’

  Writing wasn’t something new to Kal.

  After all, he already knew how to write in his past life – just not in Stulan’s script. But even that wasn’t a challenge. Growing up, he begged Elara to teach him how to write and read, and by now, he had mostly caught up.

  His motor skills were also way more advanced than those of children his age thanks to his mother, and his lyroca training.

  So, as Mrs. Keller guided Gerrin, Stella, and Kal in practicing letters and simple words, Kal’s hand moved steadily, forming each symbol without hesitation.

  Meanwhile, Gerrin gripped the chalk too tightly, making thick, uneven strokes, while Stella wrote so slowly and carefully that she barely finished a single line before Kal had already filled his slate.

  Mrs. Keller walked over to check on their progress, her gaze landing on Kal’s neat handwriting.

  She blinked in surprise. “Oh…you finished already?”

  Kal nodded. “Yeah.”

  “How?!” Gerrin yelped, glancing over.

  “Gerrin, focus on your slate, please.” Mrs. Keller told him, turning back to Kal’s assignment.

  Her brows furrowed slightly as she compared his work to the others. Then, without another word, she erased his slate and pointed at a more advanced set of words. “Alright, try this instead.”

  Kal shrugged and started again. This was still too easy.

  By the time Gerrin had just managed to get halfway through his first line, Kal had already set his chalk down again.

  Mrs. Keller frowned. “Already?”

  Kal nodded again.

  She leaned in, examining his letters closely – checking for mistakes. But there were none. She straightened up, a warm smile spreading across her face. “My, my, Kal. Someone was studying this summer! I’ll make sure to tell your mother how great of a job she had done.”

  Then, her expression turned thoughtful. “But for now, let’s try…”

  She walked over to the older students’ desks, picked up one of their slates, and brought it to Kal. “Let’s see how you do with this. The words here are harder. And there are a lot more of them as well.”

  Kal glanced at the paragraph written on the board – the same assignment the older children had been working on for a while now – something about a cat stealing its owner’s meat.

  Kal sighed. ‘Still easy.’

  He grabbed the chalk and copied the passage down effortlessly, finishing in under a minute.

  Mrs. Keller watched him the entire time, her expression shifting from a mild surprise to full shock as he set the slate down.

  “Done.”

  She picked it up, expecting to find mistakes or sloppy writing – but there were none.

  The older students, still halfway through their own assignments, turned toward him, their expressions curious.

  Mrs. Keller exhaled. “Kal…” She hesitated, clearly not expecting this. “This is…very impressive.”

  Kal tilted his head, confused.

  “What’s the big deal? It’s just writing.”