At first glance, the professor's appearance was strikingly elegant, almost ethereal. His soft, features and long, silken brown hair cascading over his shoulders made several students murmur quietly, some assuming he was a woman. But when he turned, the weight of his piercing gaze left no doubt. A few students gasped softly, recognizing him as a once-famous actor who had vanished from the public eye years ago.
“Good morning, everyone,” he greeted, his voice rich and accented, the consonants rolling off his tongue in a way that was both foreign and mesmerizing. His smile was warm, instantly putting you at ease. “I am Professor Mikhail Sabirsky, though you may call me Professor Sabirsky or simply Professor. Welcome to your first mathematics lesson here at Fablewood Academy.”
The way he moved, with deliberate grace, and the occasional gleam of humor in his eye, made him captivating. Even the less enthusiastic students seemed drawn in by his charm. A few were practically staring dreamily, clearly smitten by his natural charisma.
Mikhail clapped his hands lightly, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Let us begin with a simple question,” he said, walking to the board. “What is mathematics? A means to calculate numbers? A tool for engineers and architects? Or something more?”
The room fell silent as students hesitated to respond. Mikhail’s smile widened slightly as he scanned the class.
“Ah, no volunteers? Well, let me assure you, math is not merely numbers on a page. It is the language of patterns, the foundation of our magical runes, and the architecture of the very world we inhabit.”
His voice carried a soothing cadence as he began writing on the board with precise strokes, explaining how mathematics intertwined with magic—how ancient civilizations used numerical sequences to power spells and build structures that stood the test of time.
Despite the fascinating introduction, you noticed some students starting to lose focus as the class transitioned into basic arithmetic. Mikhail, ever perceptive, adjusted his approach seamlessly, weaving small anecdotes and humor into his explanations to keep the room engaged.
Fibble, perched on your shoulder, muttered under his breath,
“Numbers are the enemy. Can’t we just skip this part?”
His sarcastic tone earned a few stifled laughs from nearby students, though you couldn’t help but silently agree with his sentiment. Math might not have been your favorite subject, but Mikhail’s gentle and patient teaching style made it bearable, even pleasant at times.
When the lesson concluded, Mikhail clasped his hands together.
“And that, my dear students, is where we will pause for today. Remember, math is not something to fear. It is simply a puzzle waiting to be solved.”
As the class filtered out, you noticed several students lingering, clearly hoping to speak with the professor, maybe asking an autographe despite his change of career. Rune nudged you gently, his tail brushing against your arm.
“Lunch time,” he said with a grin. “I’m starving. Let’s go.”
The cafeteria was bustling with activity, the air filled with the enticing aroma of freshly prepared meals. The space was vast, with rows of long wooden tables and an open kitchen area where the staff worked tirelessly. Behind the counter, you spotted Chef Goldor Hearthstone, a small human with a twinkle in his eye and an air of authority that seemed to command the kitchen like a symphony conductor.
“Welcome, students!” Goldor called out, his voice hearty and warm. “Whatever your heart desires, we’ve got it. Step right up!”
Rune’s eyes lit up as he surveyed the options.
“I want to try something that’s purely human,” he declared. One of the kitchen staff smiled and recommended sushi, a delicacy from the Celestial Plains. Rune nodded eagerly, his tail wagging slightly in anticipation.
Fibble, on the other hand, was far less refined in his choice.
“I’ll take the biggest burger you’ve got,” he announced, puffing out his feathers. The staff chuckled and complied, handing him a towering stack of meat and bread that seemed almost comical in size.
When it was your turn, you found yourself overwhelmed by the sheer variety. Unable to decide, you opted for today’s special—a hearty bowl of stew accompanied by a slice of crusty bread. The rich aroma was enough to make your mouth water.
The three of you found a spot at one of the tables and began to eat. Rune hummed contentedly after his first bite, his tail trying to sneak a bite.
“This is amazing! Humans really know their food. Hey, no we share the same stomach you don’t need any.” But his tail seemed sad, despite the absence of eyes, it looked like a stray dog. Rune sighed and gave him one sushi.
Fibble muttered something about
“finally getting decent service,” though his enthusiasm for his burger was evident as he tore into it with gusto.
You were barely halfway through your meal when a familiar voice interrupted.
“Mind if I join you?”
You looked up to see Elric, his tray neatly arranged with a salad and curry shrimp scampi. He sat down gracefully, his movements deliberate and composed. Rune’s tail immediately moved to nuzzle Elric, who didn’t seem surprised. Instead, he reached out to pat it gently, earning a pleased swish from the appendage.
Elric smiled politely.
“Lorecraft is my first class this afternoon,” he said conversationally.
“Professor Scheh is quite the storyteller, isn’t he?” Rune answered enthusiastically. “We’ve got Ancient Curses after lunch.”
Elric shivered slightly, his expression wry.
“I had that class this morning. The teacher is… effective, but intimidating. Be prepared.”
The conversation flowed easily, the three of you chatting like old friends. Rune’s tail continued its affectionate antics, occasionally brushing against you and Elric as if it were trying to include everyone in its circle of warmth. Fibble, meanwhile, offered his usual sarcastic commentary, though even he seemed to be in a better mood.
Midway through the meal, a new presence joined your group. He introduced himself as Gael Lumenspring. He was a tall, composed student with a quiet confidence. He slid into the seat beside Rune. His dragon-fae heritage was immediately evident in his shimmering horns and the icy sheen of his tail’s scales. Rune’s eyes widened with awe.
“You’re an ice-type dragon-fae?” Rune asked, his voice filled with excitement. “Your kind was the first to trade with my clan! Without your support, we might never have escaped the worst of the prejudice against us.”
Gael smiled faintly, his tone warm but reserved.
“All dragon-fae believe in progress and inclusivity. It’s heartening to see a Mossfang here at the academy.”
He turned to you and Elric, his gaze thoughtful.
“Thank you for supporting Rune. It’s not always easy to stand against prejudice.”
Elric straightened, his voice firm.
“I refuse to let rumors or bias dictate my opinions of others. Rune has proven himself to be a good person. That’s all that matters.”
Fibble snorted, but there was no real malice in his tone.
“MC doesn’t know any better. They’re not even from this world. Maybe they’d hate Rune otherwise.”
Gael’s smile didn’t waver.
“Somehow, I doubt that.” He leaned back slightly, his gaze distant. “If you ever need advice or just someone to talk to, you can come to me anytime. And if you’re curious, the Exploration Club is hosting a booth after classes.”
The conversation ended on a positive note, and as Gael stood to leave, he gave Rune’s tail an affectionate pat.
“Take care, all of you,” he said, his voice sincere. “And Rune, keep being yourself. The world could use more of that.”
As he walked away, Rune’s tail wagged happily, curling briefly around your arm before settling. The four of you finished your meal in comfortable silence, a sense of camaraderie lingering in the air.
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