The Fifth Guild - II
1035 Words
The moment Blairre crossed beneath the towering gates, the noise of the outside world faded behind her.
She paused instinctively.
The Academy was... alive.
Not simply because thousands of students walked its streets, but because every corner seemed to breathe with its own rhythm.
Broad stone avenues stretched in every direction, lined with towering maple trees whose leaves shimmered with traces of mana. White marble buildings stood proudly against the clear sky, connected by bridges suspended high above the ground. Crystal lamps floated silently through the air, drifting along invisible paths before settling neatly onto ornate posts as if guided by unseen hands.
Students bustled past them in groups.
Some laughed while carrying stacks of books.
Others argued over magical formulas written on floating slates.
Several knights in training sparred near a fountain while instructors barked corrections.
A pair of engineering students hurried by, pushing a strange carriage with glowing Astral gears that whirred louder than the boys arguing over whose calculations had gone wrong.
Blairre watched everything.
Without realizing it...
Her pace slowed.
Zeilda noticed.
"Overwhelming?"
"...A little."
"It was the same for all of us."
Blairre nodded quietly.
She wasn't overwhelmed by the size.
She was overwhelmed by the people.
For the first time in her life...
She wasn't surrounded by ordinary citizens.
She was surrounded by people like her.
Mages.
Different ages.
Different kingdoms.
Different lives.
Yet none of them seemed ashamed of what they were.
"...They're smiling."
Zeilda tilted her head.
"Of course."
"I thought..."
Blairre hesitated.
"...mages were feared."
A small silence followed.
Zeilda looked ahead instead of answering immediately.
"They are."
Her voice remained calm.
"Outside these walls."
Blairre looked around again.
Within the Academy, students freely cast small spells to carry heavy luggage, light lanterns, or water the gardens.
No one panicked.
No one screamed.
No one stepped away.
It felt...
Normal.
"As long as you're inside Allochrony Academy," Zeilda continued, "you're considered a student."
"The moment you leave..."
"...you're considered a mage."
The difference was only one word.
Yet it carried a world of meaning.
"The Academy exists because the Four Kingdoms agreed on one thing after the Mage Catastrophes."
Zeilda pointed toward the enormous walls surrounding the city.
"No single kingdom should control all mages."
"So they built the Academy here..."
She gestured toward the land surrounding them.
"...at the heart of Asterion Basin."
"The only territory equally shared by every kingdom."
Blairre looked toward the distant horizon.
Even from inside the Academy, she could see four mountain ranges surrounding the basin like natural borders.
"So this place belongs to no one."
Zeilda smiled.
"And everyone."
They continued walking.
Soon they arrived at a wide circular plaza where a magnificent monument stood at its center.
It depicted five cloaked figures standing shoulder to shoulder.
No names.
No faces.
Only symbols engraved beneath each statue.
A crimson wolf.
A white owl.
An azure hawk.
A golden lion.
And finally...
A black crow.
Zeilda noticed Blairre staring.
"Those are the Five Guilds."
"There were originally four."
"One for each kingdom."
Blairre raised an eyebrow.
"...Originally?"
Zeilda laughed awkwardly.
"History gets... confusing after that."
Before Blairre could ask another question, Zeilda continued walking.
"The guilds aren't divided by kingdoms anymore."
"Students choose whichever guild suits them best."
She pointed toward the crimson banner flying atop a distant fortress.
"Crimson Fang."
"The combat specialists."
"They're usually the strongest in direct battles."
Another tower overlooked the Academy library.
"White Sage."
"They focus on magical theory, medicine, research, and Astral Engineering."
Several airships floated above another district.
"Azure Wing."
"Our explorers."
"They investigate ruins, chart unknown territories, and conduct long-range expeditions."
Near the Academy hospital stood another elegant building decorated with golden banners.
"Golden Shield."
"They specialize in healing, support magic, rescue missions, and defense."
Blairre listened carefully.
"So each guild has its own role."
"Exactly."
"But don't misunderstand."
"Everyone studies together."
Zeilda pointed toward a massive lecture hall where hundreds of students entered through enormous doors.
"Classes are organized by academic year."
"Not by guild."
"Whether you're Crimson Fang or White Sage..."
"You'll still attend the same lectures."
"Guilds simply determine where you live..."
"...and which missions you receive."
Blairre nodded.
That arrangement made sense.
It prevented kingdoms from isolating themselves.
It encouraged cooperation.
"...Then."
She looked toward the fifth symbol carved into the monument.
"The black crow?"
Zeilda's smile became noticeably smaller.
"...That's us."
Silence.
Several passing students noticed Zeilda's black necktie.
One nudged his friend.
"Look."
"Obsidian Crow."
Another laughed.
"They're still recruiting?"
"I thought the Academy would've dissolved them by now."
"They should."
"They're wasting funding."
The students walked away, still chuckling among themselves.
Blairre watched them leave.
"...You ignored them."
Zeilda shrugged.
"We're used to it."
She resumed walking.
"Obsidian Crow has always been... different."
"We receive the smallest budget."
"The oldest dormitory."
"The fewest recruits."
"Most years..."
"...none at all."
Blairre frowned.
"Then why hasn't the Academy disbanded the guild?"
Zeilda looked ahead.
"Because despite everything..."
"It still produces results."
"...Thanks to our Guild Leader."
Blairre became curious.
"The First Prince."
Zeilda nodded.
"He may be the youngest Guild Leader..."
"...but even the professors acknowledge his ability."
"He personally rebuilt half of our Astral workshop."
"He designed defensive formations still used around the Academy."
"And every time someone proposes abolishing Obsidian Crow..."
"He somehow proves them wrong."
Blairre quietly absorbed the information.
The First Prince.
A royal born with magic.
Disowned.
Sent to the Academy.
And...
Originally engaged to her.
Her father had never explained why.
Nor had he ever spoken about the prince's mother.
Which raised another question.
Magic was hereditary.
Even if only one parent possessed mana, the chances of their child awakening were remarkably high.
If the First Prince was a mage...
Then one of his parents had to be one as well.
"...His mother."
Blairre spoke almost unconsciously.
"What kind of person was she?"
Zeilda stopped walking.
"...No one knows."
Blairre blinked.
"What?"
"The Royal Family never speaks about her."
"There are no portraits."
"No records."
"No official announcements."
"It's as if..."
Zeilda searched for the right words.
"...she never existed."
For reasons Blairre couldn't explain...
That answer unsettled her.
A history with missing pieces.
Her father had always disliked missing pieces.
- Writer
