027 Patricia’s Astonishment

The twenty days surrounding the First Twilight Festival mark the official winter break of the Empire. During the ten days of the festival, academies across the nation halt their lessons, allowing students to return home and reunite with their families. Eleven days after the festival, most academies resume classes, and the Cervantes Military Academy follows this schedule as well. This semi-militarized institution spent two hours in the morning holding a brief yet formal opening ceremony, thus announcing the start of the new term, while actual classes commenced in the afternoon.

This year’s opening day was a rare, clear one—cloudless skies, radiant sunlight. Yet, regrettably, the temperature not only failed to rise but grew even colder, thanks to the melting snow. A biting chill swept through the air, stinging any exposed skin with a sensation that truly defined “bone-chilling cold.” Cervantes City had endured six days of continuous snowfall. The thick accumulation could not be melted by a single morning’s sun. Carriages moved cautiously along the roads, slick with a thin layer of ice. Thanks to the weather and road conditions, Patricia was late on her first day of school—over an hour late, in fact.

The carriage came to a careful halt on the pale grey cobblestone street. With her maid’s assistance, Patricia alighted slowly and composedly. The cold struck her immediately, making her shiver and frown, prompting her to curse the damned weather of Cervantes City and, at the same time, complain about Carol’s lack of consideration. Though she studied under him, she was not a student of the Cervantes Military Academy. Why must she adhere to the academy’s schedule? Would it not be better to wait until the frigid air returned to the ice fields and the city warmed up before coming? After all, her study plans were always set with a generous margin, were they not?

Complaints aside, she dutifully came to Cervantes and attended class—albeit an hour late, but that was the weather’s fault, not her own, was it not?

Impatiently, she dismissed her maid and carriage, then strode into Carol’s cottage. The entrance opened into a small hall serving as both dining and sitting room. She bypassed it, heading toward the back, where Carol’s classroom lay only a few steps away. Straightening her attire, she knocked gently, and upon hearing a subdued invitation, entered with a smile—

Her smile faltered for an instant upon seeing four people in the room—not three as she expected!

Carol’s classroom was spacious yet simple. One wall boasted a cabinet filled with alchemical tomes; another served as a teaching blackboard. At the center stood a small laboratory table, equipped with a full set of alchemical apparatus, and several sets of movable desks and chairs.

At that moment, Carol stood by the bookshelf, a book open in his hands; Zoe was at the blackboard, working through an alchemical formula; June was at the laboratory table, conducting some experiment. This was the usual scene. But between the bookshelf and the alchemy table, there was one more person than usual—a girl of about ten years old: Theresa Brento Bolger!

Patricia’s stiffness lasted less than a second before she returned to composure, offering Carol a respectful apology for her tardiness.

Carol nodded, accepted her apology, and gestured toward an empty desk. “Sit for a while,” he said.

With that, he turned his attention back to Theresa, watching the silver threads she drew from her hands, occasionally instructing her to speed up or slow down, adjusting her pace.

Patricia bit her lip in secret. She did not sit as he suggested but instead walked over to Theresa and observed her actions. Theresa was extracting threads finer than hair from a fist-sized “cotton ball,” which she held carefully in her hands. Her ten fingers darted over it, weaving, pinching, twisting, entangling—so deftly that the movements were almost impossible to follow.

The longer Patricia watched, the more astonished she became, and the more discontent and envy stirred in her heart. This was the cocoon of the Silken Canary—a bird that, in winter, spins silk to wrap itself against the cold. The silk drawn from these cocoons is the most common raw material for novice alchemists. If Theresa could now spin silk, it meant she had reached the level to begin basic alchemy.

How long had Theresa been learning alchemy? At most, four and a half months. How had she skipped the foundational phase and the stage of semi-finished trials to jump straight into basic alchemy? How could Carol show such favoritism toward her?

No matter how vexed Patricia felt, her expression betrayed nothing. She gazed at Theresa’s nimble fingers with innocent admiration.

After a while, Theresa’s rhythm grew more fluid, her threads more even, her speed quicker. Patricia pursed her lips, muttering, “Such luck…”

“Patricia, what are you saying?” June’s clear voice came softly from beside her; he had finished his task and squeezed in to watch Theresa’s “spinning performance.”

Patricia turned to June, flashing a sweet smile. “I said Theresa’s skills are excellent.”

“Yes, Theresa’s fingers are so agile,” June sighed. “I’ve trained these hands for six or seven years, and I’m only slightly better than her. Is it that girls are particularly gifted at such delicate work?”

A skilled alchemist must possess hands that are steady, nimble, and sensitive. Carol, formidable as he was, needed no mental power to assist him; with just a touch, he could instantly discern the properties, quality, and weight of any alchemical material.

While Patricia and June exchanged a few words, Theresa’s task neared completion. The Silken Canary was now exposed, with the remaining threads firmly attached to its body. To remove them without contaminating the silk was a true test of skill; naturally, Theresa’s movements slowed, her fingers’ actions growing clearer as they danced between silk and bird, twisting, winding, pinching, pulling…

A faint snap—barely audible—announced the breaking of the final thread, marking Theresa’s accomplishment. At the same moment, three sighs sounded in chorus—

Theresa’s was one of relaxed satisfaction; June’s carried a hint of regret; Patricia’s was tinged with elation.

Recommended: “The First City of Magic,” a slender yet delightfully creative tale from another world. You can save it to read later and let it grow fat~

[bookid=2176574, bookname="The First City of Magic"]