Chapter 36
TakRan
"Yes, sir," Körper replied with a slight nod of his head, maintaining the precise formality of close acquaintances who respect each other.
"Great," Ivan responded, relaxing his shoulders with a knowing smile. "And after this, what will you do to take advantage of the day off the older students have for the new arrivals?"
Körper let out a short laugh, looking to the side as if he'd decided early. "I'm going with Bairon to train somewhere," he said naturally. "He says he found an adventurer who practices a style that hasn't reached the academy yet. I want to see if it's true or if he's just exaggerating."
Ivan raised an eyebrow, interested. "A new style, huh? That sounds great." He brought a hand to his chin, thoughtful. "Maybe I'll swing by the guild later, see what I can find to make use of the day off I requested."
Körper nodded, crossing his arms as he watched the families continue to stream through the gate. "Good idea. Foreign adventurers often bring new things worth knowing… or at least a good story to hear."
"Or a beer," Ivan added, laughing.
Körper returned the smile. "Or two."
The two men shared a low laugh, the kind of easy humor born from familiarity.
Behind them, Sil was talking animatedly with Elara, and both women watched the children, who were now walking together along the entrance path, looking around with curious eyes.
"I imagine it will be a short visit," Körper commented, lowering his voice a little while casting a glance toward the boy. "To be in the, you know, of whom," he added with a subtle nod of his head toward Kaep, who was still chatting animatedly with Eli a few meters ahead.
Ivan smiled sideways, instantly catching the hint. "Of course. I just need to tell Laios to get the father's gift for tonight," he replied in a casual tone.
"Great," Körper said, nodding in satisfaction.
They exchanged a knowing look before turning their gaze back to the path.
They resumed their pace, walking side by side along the stone path that led deeper beyond the reddish walls.
As they advanced, the sound of the city faded behind them, replaced by a more serene atmosphere. Inside the grounds, the air smelled of wood and freshly cut grass.
The footsteps of the two men echoed in time as they followed the women and children, who had moved a little ahead.
Ivan glanced forward, watching as little Kaep laughed at something Eli had just said to him. That simple image—the two children together, walking toward their first day in a new world—drew a discreet smile from him.
Körper, beside him, noticed the gesture.
Beyond the first reddish walls, where the air still held the scent of dry clay and sun, a second enclosure stretched out.
A new line of walls, taller and more solid, made of carefully aligned red bricks, rose before them. Unlike the first, more open and friendly, these seemed built to mark a boundary, a threshold to something greater.
Through the main entrance, an arch of stone blackened by time, a monumental building rose before them.
Its facade combined the strength of carved stone with the elegance of ornamental metals. Great columns stood on either side of a wide staircase, its steps reflecting the sunlight as if polished thousands of times by the passage of generations.
High on the building, several statues watched from their pedestals: figures of men and women in ancient robes, holding books, swords, or featureless heads.
Among them, in the center, a figure larger than the others stretched an arm toward the sky, as if pointing to a destiny. Its face was marked by a great scar that covered three-quarters of it.
Kaep looked up, his mouth agape.
"It's huge…" he murmured, his eyes shining with awe.
Eli, beside him, nodded slowly.
Ivan, who had advanced a few steps with Körper, stopped when he noticed his son had fallen behind.
He turned slightly and saw him: Kaep was walking a little slower, his eyes fixed on the monumental building rising before them. His small hand pointed upward, as if he was still trying to comprehend the magnitude of what he was seeing.
Sil and Elara walked beside him, both observing calmly, letting the children enjoy the moment.
Eli, curious, tried to follow the direction Kaep was pointing, but soon got distracted watching a group of men pass through the inner arch wearing uniforms of different colors hidden beneath knee-length black coats of the same style.
The father smiled at the scene. There was something in his son's expression—that gleam between curiosity and admiration—that reminded him of himself, the day he first set foot on that same ground.
Then, Kaep raised his hand and waved it gently, signaling for him to come closer.
The gesture was so direct and trusting that Ivan didn't hesitate.
He turned to Körper with a brief smile.
"Give me a moment," he said, before stepping back with calm strides toward his family.
The noise of the conversations around him became fuzzy, almost erased by the softer sound of his son's boots on the stone slabs.
Kaep watched him approach with a mix of impatience and contained excitement.
"What is it, little one?" Ivan asked when he reached him, bending down a little to be at his height.
Kaep stretched his arm toward the building.
"Is that the place where you learned and where Uncle is studying?" he asked in a low voice, almost as if afraid to interrupt something sacred.
Ivan looked at him for a moment in silence, then nodded slowly, with a slight but meaningful smile.
"Yes. That very one," he replied. "Where everything begins… and where things get more interesting. The Takran Mixed Academy."
The name resonated with a certain weight in the air.
Kaep repeated it quietly, testing the sound of each syllable.
"Takran… Mixed… Academy."
Sil approached slowly, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"And now it's your turn," she added softly.
The little boy smiled, without looking away from the front, and his fingers tightened, ready to take the next step.
---
The interior of the building seemed from another world.
The moment they crossed the enormous doors, the sound of the street vanished completely, replaced by a vast, serene silence, broken only by the soft echo of footsteps on the mosaic floor.
Families walked alongside their children down an extensive hallway, flanked by tall columns that disappeared among the ceiling arches. The walls were covered with ancient reliefs: carved scenes of human figures and fantastic creatures, intertwined with symbols that seemed to move slightly under the light.
The crystal lamps suspended from above held a constant luminescence within.
Kaep walked between his parents, his gaze jumping from one side to the other. Every door they passed had a different emblem on its frame: spirals, stars, branches, weapons, or fragments of runes. Behind some, they could hear voices, the murmur of teachers or cleaning staff.
Eli, a little further ahead, walked holding her mother's hand, also looking at everything with fascination.
"Mama… why are there so many doors?" she asked, in a whisper that still echoed off the walls.
"Because throughout the week, there will be more groups of new students," Elara replied, her voice soft. "So many classrooms are used to accommodate everyone, including the older courses, so that next week when everyone comes normally, the academy won't be overcrowded."
Kaep heard that and looked at his father, his violet eyes reflecting the lights of the hallway.
"I won't be separated from Eli, right?"
Ivan smiled without answering immediately.
"The first month, they won't separate you…" he said finally, his tone calm. "You don't have to worry anymore. For now, and when her eyes change, you'll go to the same general classes… specialized classes are another story."
The boy looked down, thoughtful, as they continued onward.
The floor, covered in dark tiles, reflected their figures as they passed; the air was imbued with a soft scent of ink, paper, and metal.
It was as if every corner of the place breathed history, and Kaep, without fully understanding why, felt he had just entered a place he would remember for the rest of his life.
---
They arrived at an open-air space of colossal dimensions.
The air felt lighter there, as if the whole place breathed with them.
Before their eyes stretched an immense esplanade of light stone, polished until it reflected the sunlight like a dull mirror.
In the center, a circular fountain of black stone projected fine threads of water that rose and fell in perfect silence, creating a light mist that played with the light.
Around this point, three buildings rose majestically, each oriented toward a different cardinal point: one to the left, another directly ahead, and the last to the right.
Each structure shared the same architectural language as the main building—an architecture that didn't fit with the rest of the city: where the constructions were of warm, functional stone and wood, these seemed to belong to another era.
They rose with a severe elegance, made of materials that reflected the sunlight as if they held within them the memory of ancient times.
The towers, slender and tall, rose like spears bathed in daylight—but each had a distinct nuance in its design.
The building on the left displayed inscriptions and reliefs of figures in motion: warriors, bipedal beasts, and symbols resembling eyes.
The one in front, similar to the one on the left, showed inscriptions and reliefs of moving figures: warriors, humanoids with horns, and more symbols like eyes.
The one on the right, however, had large windows and metallic structures that fit more with current times.
Kaep stood still, slowly turning on his heels as he observed each one.
"There are… three," he murmured, pointing a finger in each direction.
"Three great wings," Ivan explained, moving closer to his son. "Each one is basically an academy in itself."
Körper, walking a few steps ahead, added:
"You could imagine that each is divided in half. On the left, the general classes, and on the right, the specialized ones."
Kaep listened attentively, his gaze shining as it moved between the three directions.
"In the specialized ones, will they teach me about being a psychic?"
Ivan smiled.
"Exactly."
The boy blinked, nodding, and looked around again, marveling.
The wind blew softly, moving his brown hair and making the leaves of nearby trees dance, while the voices and laughter of other children echoed in the distance, scattered across the great courtyard.
Sil watched the scene with tenderness.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she whispered, looking at her son.
Kaep nodded without taking his eyes off the front.
"Yes… it's greener here than outside."
---
Little by little, the scattered bustle of the courtyard began to calm.
A voice, firm but calm, rose from somewhere among the families, giving brief, clear instructions… no. Rather, from inside their heads.
Three lines. Children at the front. The shortest adult in the middle. The tallest adult at the back, said the feminine voice originating within their minds.
In a matter of seconds, all the parents and their children began to move, organizing themselves with surprising coordination.
From an elevated view, the formation would have looked like a huge, living rectangle.
The adults lined up behind, while the children—from the oldest to the youngest—took position at the front.
From left to right, the line was ordered by height: from the tallest adult to the smallest boy or girl, composing a visual harmony of perfectly measured human lines.
The sound of soles and footsteps formed a constant, dry, almost ritualistic rhythm.
When the last family found its place, silence fell like a cloth over the air.
Then, from among the ranks, men and women dressed in black uniforms began to emerge.
Their steps were firm, synchronized, and their mere presence commanded respect.
Each wore the same base design: long, open jackets that reached their knees, with military-cut shoulder pads and fitted belts.
However, there was a visible difference among them: along the coats ran embroidered stripes in identical patterns, but in six different colors, crossing the chest and shoulders like insignias of their specialty.
The colors—red, blue, green, orange, violet, and yellow—shone with metallic reflections under the sun, moving in time with the folds of the dark fabric.
Each one took a position in front of the families, forming a new line, parallel to that of the parents and children.
Their expressions were serious, but not cold; there was a professional calm about them, the bearing of those who knew well the weight of the tradition they represented.
Kaep watched with wide eyes, fascinated by the synchronicity and the gleam of the uniforms.
"Papa…" he whispered, not looking away. "Who are they?"
Ivan leaned down a little to answer him in a low voice:
"The instructors of the six branches of specialization. Each color represents one."
The boy looked forward again, trying to guess which would be his.
His gaze lingered for a moment on the uniforms with violet trim.
Sil placed a hand on his shoulder, sensing the tension in his fingers.
"The violet," she said softly, pointing discreetly.
A light wind swept across the courtyard, lifting the instructors' coats, making the colors ripple like standards.
The crowd remained in silence, waiting for the voice that would set the ceremony in motion.
---
From among the aligned instructors, one stepped forward.
The movement was simple, but it was enough to draw every eye.
His uniform, unlike the others, was not black: it was a light gray, almost white in the daylight.
The upper garment, a sort of short cape that covered his shoulders, was confusing at first, until one noticed it was the part worn over the shirt, betrayed by the sleeves shifting in the breeze.
The edges and stripes running along the garment he wore as a cape shone with an intense yellow, like polished gold, reflecting the light with every small movement.
His bearing was firm, without rigidity; his presence didn't seek to impose itself, but it did so anyway.
He was young, perhaps not much older than senior students like Körper, and yet his gaze—serene, deep, with a bold smile—had something that silenced even the most restless.
The silence became absolute.
Only the murmur of the wind and the rustle of his cape as he advanced could be heard.
The man stopped his steps in front of the families, right at the center of the human rectangle.
He brought his right hand to his chest, made a fist, and struck it once, a single, dry, decisive blow over his heart.
The sound resonated in the air, and immediately all the instructors repeated the gesture, in unison.
The combined echo of the blows expanded through the courtyard like a ritual drum.
Then, the young man spoke.
His voice was clear, tempered, with a firmness that didn't need to impose itself to be heard.
"Good day… or afternoon, future comrades," he said, with a tone that mixed respect and an unexpected closeness. "I hope you've had a great first impression of this place."
As he spoke, he gave a slight bow, inclining his head with his hand still resting on his chest.
His light gray cape settled on his back with the movement, revealing the soft gleam of the golden stripes that edged it on the sleeves and collar.
"Here, before you," he continued, with a hint of confidence that loosened the silence, "your servant."
He straightened slowly, lifting his gaze to the audience.
The sun reflected for an instant in his fiery brown hair, almost copper, and in that moment his initial expression shifted: serenity gave way to a confident, sincere smile, with sharp eyes.
"Of the twenty-ninth generation of Takran Academy…" he said, making a brief pause, letting the name resonate and the echo die away on its own.
"Allion. The First of the Eleven Marked."