The main building appeared after a turn in the rear garden.
Lavender.
Not merely painted. The stone itself carried a soft violet hue, as if pigments had been infused directly into its substance. Unlike the more angular martial structures or the elemental halls saturated with practice circles, the alchemy sector seemed calmer from a distance, almost sober.
Almost.
As he drew closer, the details revealed themselves.
The windows were more numerous, tall and narrow, opened to let out colored vapors. Thin chimneys rose from several low rooftops, each releasing a different smoke: pale blue, transparent green, silver, sometimes pink with the smell of burnt fruit.
Behind the building, a vast botanical courtyard stretched across several terraces.
Davin slowed.
Rows of strange plants grew beneath partial glass canopies. Herbs with black stems, lavender flowers that opened and closed with the rhythm of nearby footsteps, silver bushes bristling with translucent thorns, red vines tied to copper trellises. Shallow basins held luminous mosses that pulsed like embers beneath the water.
Students in lavender violet worked there, gloves on their hands, cloth masks over their noses. Some cut leaves with bone scissors. Others collected drops of sap into small vials. One student held open a carnivorous plant with tongs while another delicately scraped its tongue with a spatula.
The plant sneezed.
A cloud of golden pollen exploded into the first student's face.
He collapsed backward, stiff as a plank.
His companion sighed.
"Again?"
No one panicked.
Two students came over and dragged him by the ankles toward a waiting bench already occupied by three other probable victims of botany.
Alchemy. Where even salads seem to have offensive strategies.
Davin resumed walking.
Inside, the sector was less flamboyant than he had imagined. The great rooms kept Aethelgard's classic architecture: pale stone, polished wood, discreet runes. But everywhere, shelves, glass cabinets, preparation tables, and vial racks created an impression of methodical density.
The air mixed contradictory scents: icy mint, heated metal, damp soil, strong alcohol, overly sweet flowers, ash, and medicinal bitterness.
There were many students. Most wore the lavender violet clothing of the sector, with the castle embroidered on their chest. A few came from other colors: green, off-white, gray, even a lone red who moved with the caution of a man inside a shop full of expensive explosives.
Davin asked directions from a hurried student, who pointed him toward a door with a vague gesture without slowing down.
He knocked.
A weary voice answered from inside.
"Enter."
Davin pushed the door open.
The room looked like an office that had lost a war against a laboratory.
Piles of books occupied an entire wall. Empty vials lay in baskets. A miniature cauldron sat on a side table, releasing violet bubbles that burst without sound. The dominant smell was that of peppery herbs and alcohol far too concentrated.
A man sat behind a desk, bare feet resting on the wood, an open book in one hand.
He wore noble clothes: a fine shirt, well-cut dark trousers, rings on his fingers, quality fabric. Over them, a long lavender kimono-coat rested on his shoulders with studied nonchalance, rich without being gaudy. On the left side of his chest, Aethelgard's castle was embroidered, topped by two stars.
Behind him, a student in lavender violet clothing worked standing at a side table. He held a vial between two fingers and poured, drop by drop, a pale blue liquid from a glass pipette. With each addition, the mixture briefly turned gray before becoming translucent again.
He too wore the castle embroidered on his chest, but no star.
When Davin entered, his gaze slid toward him for a fraction of a second.
The next drop fell too fast.
The vial began to tremble.
"Shaun!" the seated man barked without even turning his head. "If you crystallize that solution again because a stranger opened a door, I'll make you drink it. Focus."
The student stiffened at once.
"Yes, Professor."
The vial stopped trembling, but his fingers remained slightly tense.
The seated man's gaze then moved over Davin.
Over his gray clothing.
Over his starless crest.
Over his face.
He sighed before Davin even spoke.
"I'm tired," he muttered. "Another one who wants to try."
Davin pretended not to hear.
"Good morning."
The man closed his book with one finger.
"Yes, good morning. I assume you're lost, want a free potion, or think you've discovered a calling because you managed not to die while mixing two herbs in a bowl."
"I wish to join the alchemy sector."
The silence lasted one second.
Shaun raised an eyebrow slightly.
The seated man, meanwhile, tilted his head.
"Kid, I know it's attractive. Pills, elixirs, points, resources, people smiling at you when they want something. But are you sure?"
He removed his feet from the desk with a total lack of elegance, then straightened.
"Alchemy is probably one of the most thankless sectors in this Academy. Endless patience, humiliating failure rates, overpriced components, explosions, poisoning, vindictive plants, impatient clients. Other sectors fail a spell and burn a target. We miss one comma in a dosage and someone forgets their own first name for three days."
He raised a finger.
"Or turns violet. Depends on the week."
Davin remained impassive.
"I still want to join."
The man grunted.
"Of course. They all say that before crying over their first decoction."
He muttered something into his beard.
Then his eyes changed color.
The brown of his irises briefly shifted to liquid gold, crossed by fine concentric lines.
Davin felt a light pressure slide over his face, his breath, his heartbeat.
Detection spell? Lies, intent, emotional flow?
He did not resist.
He had nothing to gain by showing that he had noticed more than necessary.
The man observed him for a few seconds.
"Hm. You do not seem to be lying about your intention. Or you lie better than most recruits, which would almost be a quality."
He leaned back.
"Why alchemy? Don't you want to develop your magical foundation elsewhere first? What type of magic are you learning?"
"Wind and water," Davin replied.
Shaun's gaze changed.
The seated man remained calmer, but his fingers stopped playing with the ring on his left hand.
"Two elements?"
"Yes. I want to develop them precisely because of that. Alchemy requires understanding transformation, reactions, dosages, properties. It isn't separate from magic. It's another way of structuring it."
The man smiled very slightly.
Not much.
But enough.
Greedy. Or talented. Maybe both, his gaze seemed to say.
"Name. Age. Approximate date of awakening. Date of entry into the Academy."
"Davin. Nineteen. I became an Adept about a month ago. I entered the Academy less than three weeks ago."
This time, Shaun clearly frowned.
The seated man did not speak immediately.
He studied him.
Then asked:
"Did you know any spells before coming here?"
"No."
The golden eyes remained fixed on him.
No visible reaction.
Then the color of his irises slowly returned to normal.
The man tapped the desk with his fingertips.
An ordinary student often takes one or two years to reach the rank of Adept after entering. Outside Mage families or great noble lineages, that is already considered decent. He arrived awakened. And he claims to have learned his foundations here in less than three weeks.
This time, Davin clearly saw interest emerge.
Not kindness.
Interest.
Far more useful.
"Good."
The man rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a small glass sphere filled with brown liquid.
He tossed it carelessly into the center of the room.
The glass shattered.
The liquid touched the stone.
A seed immediately burst from it, piercing the floor as if it were soft soil. In less than three seconds, a shoot rose, thickened, twisted, formed a slender trunk and a few branches.
A small tree one meter tall now stood before Davin.
Its leaves were round, dark azure blue, crossed by brown veins that pulsed faintly under the light.
"The test is simple," the man said. "Cast your best spell. Quickly."
Davin asked for no second chance.
He asked for no details.
He raised his hand.
AI, correct the trajectory toward the center of the trunk.
[BEEP. Ballistic assistance activated.Recommended correction: lower wrist by 3 degrees.Rotational flow: lateral stabilization required.]
Davin inhaled.
Mana circulated.
The short incantation passed his lips, still imperfect but stable enough. Water formed before his palm, first as a floating mass, then contracted. Its surface began to spin. Slowly at first. Then faster.
The sphere vibrated.
One second.
Two.
Three.
He launched it.
The Spinning Water Sphere struck the small tree dead center.
The impact was brutal.
The trunk exploded with a sound both wet and dry. The branches flew apart, dark azure leaves scattered, and the upper half of the tree crashed to the floor while spinning.
A few drops of water landed on the desk.
The seated man looked at them.
Then at the destroyed tree.
Then at Davin.
Shaun had stopped breathing for half a second.
The silence became very interesting.
"He didn't lie?" the man almost murmured. "He really learned that in less than three weeks?"
He recovered immediately.
Too late.
Davin had heard.
The man stood.
He was not very tall, but the pressure of his mana suddenly filled the room with a clearer density. Not crushing like the monsters Davin had glimpsed in the hall. But heavy enough to make one thing obvious: Rex was not careless because he was weak. He was careless because he could afford to be.
"That is good," he said. "Very good, even, for a beginner Adept."
He walked around the desk and stopped in front of Davin.
"Kid. Do you want to become my apprentice?"
Behind him, Shaun's fingers tightened around his vial.
The man smiled.
"Think carefully before answering. Becoming the apprentice of a sector chief is not something people obtain every morning by knocking on a door with great ambitions and little proof."
Davin remained silent for a fraction of a second.
A sector chief.
A mentor.
Protection.
Access.
Potential resources.
A cost, obviously.
Always a cost.
But the opportunity was too important to ignore.
Is it really that rare? Good. I didn't expect such luck this quickly.
"I accept."
"Good."
The man returned to his desk and, with a gesture, made several folded sector uniforms and two contract sheets appear.
The clothing was lavender violet, made of a supple fabric finer than the gray recruit attire. Crossed tunics, reinforced trousers, belts adapted for vials and small tools. On the left side, Aethelgard's castle was embroidered. No star.
Not yet.
The man placed a hand on the contracts.
"My name is Rex. From today onward, I will be your mentor. You will call me Professor Rex."
Something jammed in Davin's mind.
Rex.
His neighbors' dog on Earth had been named Rex.
A stupid, noisy creature that spent its days sniffing its own backside before barking at walls with the conviction of a persecuted philosopher.
Davin lowered his eyes slightly.
His lips threatened to move.
Do not laugh. Do not laugh. This would probably be the stupidest social death of this new life.
He nodded seriously.
"Yes, Professor Rex."
The man smiled, visibly satisfied.
He must be moved to have been chosen. Normal. I am remarkable, his expression seemed to say.
"On these papers, you will find the conditions of your apprenticeship. Read them and place your imprint if you accept."
Davin took the first document.
Thanks to AI, the characters mentally reorganized into understandable sentences.
The contract was less simple than it seemed.
The mentor committed to teaching the apprentice the basics of alchemy, granting him access to certain practice rooms, validating his first preparations, and recommending him for specialized classes if his progress justified it.
In exchange, the apprentice owed academic loyalty to the mentor for the duration of the contract. No other main professor. No change of mentor without official rupture. Mandatory presence at public or private classes if the mentor required it. Occasional assistance during preparations, demonstrations, or corrections.
Fifteen percent of the apprentice's mission earnings went to the mentor.
An unpleasant clause.
But not absurd.
Another line caught his attention.
Any voluntary lie addressed to the mentor could trigger a magical sanction mark.
So everything I declare to the mentor must be true. Not only official reports. An invisible chain, but a chain all the same.
The contract could be broken by either party by tearing the linked sheet, but rupture would immediately cancel the benefits, protections, and access granted by the mentor.
Simple.
Clean.
Dangerous.
He was buying protection and access in exchange for a share of his gains and temporary dependence.
In the current context, the exchange was favorable.
He placed his imprint on both documents.
A thin lavender light passed through the paper.
Rex kept one copy and handed the other to Davin.
"Perfect. Welcome to the alchemy sector. Tonight, you will meet me here. We will begin directly with the basics. Not recipes. Not pills. The basics. If you confuse alchemy with expensive cooking, I'll have you clean cauldrons for a week."
"Understood."
"By the way," Rex added, gesturing toward the student behind him, "this is Shaun. My first apprentice."
Shaun inclined his head slightly.
He had a fine face, black hair tied behind his neck, and eyes too calm to be truly neutral. His lavender uniform was impeccable. No stain, no crease, no negligence. The kind of discipline that rarely hid a relaxed personality.
"Pleasure to meet you," Davin said.
"Likewise," Shaun replied.
The tone was polite.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
But Davin sensed the fine hostility beneath the surface.
Not open hatred.
An evaluation.
A threat still sheathed.
Does he feel threatened?
A silent laugh brushed through Davin's mind.
Already? Am I that frightening?
After a few quick indications about schedules, access, and the basic rules of the sector, Davin collected his new clothing and left the room.
He now had a sector.
A mentor.
Potential protection.
And probably a rival.
Rather profitable for a morning.
His next objective was obvious: the library.
He needed to immediately enrich his database with accessible alchemy works. Even if he did not understand everything today, AI would understand tomorrow. Or in a week. Or as soon as he fed it enough material.
Behind him, in the office, Rex remained silent until the door closed.
Then he raised one hand and swept it lazily through the air.
The moisture on the floor, the drops of water on the desk, and the soaked fragments of the little tree all trembled at once. In a single second, the water detached from the surfaces and gathered into a translucent sphere above the floor.
The remains of the tree began to dry before the eye. The dark azure leaves curled inward, the wood paled, cracked, then fell into fine dust before vanishing in a lavender breath.
The water sphere contracted in turn, then evaporated into an almost transparent cloud of steam.
The office became clean again.
As if nothing had happened.
Then Rex smiled.
"He is probably better than you."
Shaun did not answer.
His hands, crossed behind his back, tightened slightly.
Rex picked up his book again, as though he had merely commented on the weather.
"Improve. Otherwise, he will surpass you far more violently than you imagine."
The silence lasted one second.
Then Shaun lowered his head slightly.
"Yes, Professor."
His fingers cracked behind his back.
Rex turned a page.
And smiled again.