Alfirean Age Book 1 - Inheritor of Strength

Brockovich's School of Magic

Alf snuck out of the house as soon as Harold drifted to sleep.

In a matter of hours, he swam to the bottom of Brokovich lake, climbed to the top of the local mountain, explored every nook and cranny of the town, ate steak for the first time, and taste-tested dozens of different types of spicy food. It felt like he had twenty years of living to catch up on, and he had only just begun.

Late in the afternoon, Harold found him climbing a coconut tree on the edge of town. Just as the butler opened his mouth to issue another one of his long, laborious lectures, the sound of the Emperor's voice boomed in the skies. As Drokovian II addressed all of Alfireá with a nationwide scrying, Alf scuttled down the tree, broke open a wild coconut, and handed half of the fruit to his friend. With a sigh, the butler accepted the bribe and turned his attention towards the sky as the Emperor officially announced the death of Alfonso Vivyander Brockovich the third, the seventh High Lord of Alfireá, and subsequently expressed his remorse over such a great loss.

The whole nation listened in stunned silence as the Emperor spoke of the many accomplishments and good deeds the Brockovich family had performed. Just as the two of them finished their impromptu snack, Drakovian II declared, “Alfonso Vivyander Brockovich the third, we will remember you for all of time. You shall henceforth be known as the third Dragoon of Alfireá, Alfonso Vivyander Brokovich III, the Fearless One." He bowed his head. "May your soul find peace in the arms of your loving Savior, and may the Most High welcome your soul into the heavens above." He then raised his head and announced, "In honor of our new Dragoon, his estate shall hereafter be known as Brockovich's School of Magic, the highest magical learning institute in this Empire.” The Emperor smiled as if he held some great secret then continued, “Its doors will officially open at the beginning of next week. May all who seek knowledge find refuge in its elegant halls." And so saying the scrying faded. 

At the Emperor's shocking announcement, the butler dropped the remains of his coconut, and a monkey swooped in to grab his leftovers as Harold looked at Alf with a startled expression. Alf ditched the rest of his coconuts, and together with his butler, they high-tailed it back to the manor.

For the next few days, Brockovich Estate, along with the entire town, flew into a flurry of preparations as they acquired the necessary supplies and set Harold's plans into motion. The rooms in the manor were turned into classrooms and dorm rooms; sections of the surrounding jungle were transformed into training grounds, and world-renowned teachers were interviewed and hired via scrying, all within the matter of a week.

Finally, after seven days of tireless labor and controlled chaos, Brockovich's School of Magic officially opened its doors.

Much to Alf's surprise, forty students instantly enrolled—he'd never expected such an overwhelming response. But that was only the tip of the iceberg; dozens of children from across the Empire arrived by horse or carriage every day, despite the teleportation stones remaining locked.

As the rooms in the manor rapidly filled to capacity and the spare rooms in the hospital filled to overflowing, it became apparent that the students would need their own dorm.

An architect from Glandledale was hired, and Alf watched in fascination as the nobleman marked out the floor plan on the Brokovich Estate, and then several of his hired hands used earth magic to form the foundation.

That night, Alf snuck out to the newly cleared land to try his own hand at earth magic when everyone else went to sleep. He started small, simply forming the building's outer walls, but before the night was over, a massive castle of earth and stone, with turrets, crenellations, and spires reached high into the sky.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, a high pitched voice screeched across the fields, "What is this!?" it yelled.

Alf ducked his head and rubbed his hair, "I...um, well, you know."

"You did this? But that, that is impossible," the little man sputtered. His fancy, feathered hat bobbed in the wind as he shook his head back and forth.

"Um, ya. Though I kind of got carried away," Alf mumbled.

"Carried away," the odd man squealed. He waved at the structure, "This! is fantastic. Fantastic, I tell you. It would take twenty of my finest workers weeks to do this."

"You see this," he said, holding up the glass tablet with the architecture plans. "This! I do not need this." He tossed it over his shoulder and skipped closer to Alfonso's strange structure. "We will tear this down and start over, you and I. And together, we will create a masterpiece. A masterpiece, I tell you."

Alf blushed and mumbled, "I guess. If you say so."

"I say so. Let us get started at once."

And so, after tearing down his impromptu structure, Alf and the architect took the Brokovich Caves—located in the mountain just behind the manor—and hollowed out a giant, underground cavern.

They carved out deep, spacious rooms in a circular spiral down along the walls, like the inside of a conch shell, and fashioned wide walkways with stone balustrades to accompany them.

Once they were done, the cave was transformed into a thing of beauty. No longer dark and dingy, the cavern shone as bright as day, illuminated by a light made from a floating ball of water compressed around a flawless crystal. Rays of brilliant light shined through the compressed liquid, forming striking patterns that bounced around the cavern and reflected off the glazed white marble walls. This special light, which floated at the cavern's apex, was regulated to give off a soft silver glow at night and shine like the sun during the day.

Further adding to its splendor, several streams poured down the cavern's sides to meet in the center, forming a clear blue pond. At its heart, a fountain bubbled forth, lightly misting a surrounding park. Lined with carved oak benches and arbors, the park featured an array of colorful flowers and ever-ripe fruit trees.

Above the park, a hollowed-out canal ran along the length of every walkway. Filled with soil, the canal housed hundreds of fragrant flowers and emerald vines, which grew up and over the carved balustrades, creating a lush hanging garden.

Large wind stones, placed throughout the space, ensured a breeze always played through the dormitories, keeping the area cool and the air fresh.  

All of this together made the cavern an epic beauty to behold.

When it was finished, the architect cried, "'Tis beautiful enough to make the angels weep," he said. "This! This is your destiny, Alf. You must go with me to the Imperial City, and together, we will write our names in the stars."

Alf prayed about it. The idea was tempting for several reasons, but after much debate, he turned down the offer, and Harold promptly sent the architect packing.

One week led into the next, and by the time the second week rolled around, the school registered its one-hundredth student.

Most of Alf's time vanished between teaching classes, helping others teachers, and learning new spells. At first, he hated the new chains he found himself shackled to, so when the offer to join the architect and move to the Imperial City had come along, he'd been sorely tempted. However, as his proficiency in magic grew, his love for teaching grew, and he was glad he had turned the architect down.

With most of his daylight hours occupied, Alf spent his evenings with Harold and Olivia. Night after night, they took turns teaching him how to control his magic, and with each session, Alf astonished them with his new capabilities, for in a short matter of time, he learned to perform magic others would have taken years to learn.

However, the one ability he'd wanted to learn above all, “Ra’avah,” turned out to be too much for him. The first, and only, time he attempted it, he blew the capillaries in his eyes—it had taken Harold and Olivia three hours to heal him.

Afterward, Harold informed him he would never be able to use Ra’avah unless he learned extreme control over his magical energy. As Alf was now, redirecting a small amount of energy to his eyes was like trying to stop an ocean of pressure from popping a small balloon.

It's so strange, Alf thought. Proceeding his transformation, his problem had always been his electrolytes not producing enough energy. Now he had so much he couldn’t control it. Everything about him had flipped. Before, he'd had to live in a sterile environment due to his low immune system, eat nothing but mush, and sleep close to eleven hours a day. Now he played in the dirt constantly with no repercussions, ate all the solid food he wanted, and never slept. He could sit down in a chair, close his eyes for a few minutes, and be ready to go for another twelve or thirteen hours. In fact, he couldn’t sleep more than a few hours a week even if he tried.

Even with all the positives, though, it proved a difficult time period, one Alf was uncertain how he would have handled without Harold. Anytime he had a question or problem, Harold was right there through every twist and turn, and Alf thanked God for him. His butler had always been his closest confidant, though the difference in rank had prevented a deep friendship. However, with Harold now appointed as the official headmaster of the Brockovich School, and Alf no longer considered High Lord, much of the barriers his friend had created between them as master and servant crumbled. He and Harold became like father and son, spending most of their spare time together.

Conversely, this gave rise to a new problem. For the first time in his life, Alf thought he had a real chance at winning Olivia’s love, but with each day, she seemed to put more distance between them.

It was the one thing he couldn’t talk directly to Harold about; it would be much too awkward, seeing as  Olivia was in spirit, if not in blood, Harold’s daughter.

Instead, on one of his many secret forays to the baker's shop, he asked Garland about it.

***

Garland smiled, and his eyes drifted away into the past as Alf sat down on a stool beside the counter. “Ah, it’s about time you seek yourself a lass,” the baker said as he used a long paddle to pull out a piping hot tray of baked treats from one of his many ovens.

Outside, the noise of a thriving market day blended with the joyful sound of fire crackling away in the ovens. The rich smell of sweets mingled with the scent of burning wood permeated the air.

With a careful, well-practiced movement, Garland set the tray down in front of Alf. “I think the most important thing to know about a woman is that she is soft like dough. If you push her too hard, you’ll crush her. You need to be soft and gentle.”

“What do you mean?” Alfonso asked as he used a steady stream of wind magic to cool off one of the treats.

“Be nice to her, help her out when you can. Bring her small gifts. Show off just a tad bit, and when you catch her eye, smile. If you're sweet enough, she’ll eventually smile back. That’s when you can ask her out for a walk or something, maybe take her out on a picnic. From there, if you’re meant to be, things will take care of themselves.”

“Really? It’s that simple?”

The baker wiped his hands on his apron, and using a pair of metal tongs, transported the fresh sweets to a basket. "Place that in the display case up front, would ya?"

Alf moved the basket to the requested area and then sat down again.

"And to answer your question," Garland said, "women are never that simple. Lord knows Danielle had a mind of her own, and sometimes I couldn't make heads nor tails out of what she was thinking, God bless her soul. "

He smiled a big toothy grin. "Of course, that's what keeps us men on our toes, trying to figure them women out. Keeps us busy it does."

"I'll tell you what, lad," Garland walked around the counter and swung his arm around Alf's shoulders, "if it doesn't work out, come on back, and I'll give ya more advice and some free sweets to go along with it."

“Wow, thank you,” Alf exclaimed, expressing his gratitude. He then scooped up two more doughnuts, paid the baker, and dashed for the door, nearly running headlong into a man he had never seen before.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right,” the man said with a small nod, tugging on his long, narrow goatee.

Alf smiled, returned the man’s nod, and dashed out the door as the fellow turned to the baker and said, “I’m here for Vin’s weekly order.”

***

With Garland's advice on hand, Alf had thought for sure he could get Olivia to smile at him, but over the next couple of days, things didn’t go so well. Every time he tried to be nice to Olivia or show off as the baker had suggested, she just turned her back on him. Every day, he tried harder and harder, but the more he tried, the more she seemed to avoid him.

As the days went on, Alf became heartbroken. Deep in his heart, he began to wonder if she didn’t like him at all. Maybe she was resentful at his change, and she missed the old Alfonso. Maybe he wasn't good enough for her. And maybe... maybe he was destined to stare at her back for the rest of his life and watch while she found someone else to love and cherish—someone who was good enough for her.