Chapter 91: Arcane History

Chapter 91: Arcane History

Tom was forced to school his expression as he saw the students slowly filling in the class, the benefits of a residential college revealing itself as a fair number of students managed to present themselves almost fifteen minutes before class started.

Of course, such punctuality wasn’t something Tom would expect from regular college students from back on Earth, but in his mind, the Syrelore Academy was much closer to Military School over the regular counterpart.

He exchanged a few approving nods with the students that waved to him on their way in, choosing to limit interaction as far as he could until the class started.

Finally, it was time.

Tom’s gaze swept across the class, taking in the faces of his students with a contemplative expression. Only a single seat lay vacant, the rest filled by a group of composed, dignified students who were immaculately dressed in the academy’s livery.

“Today,” Tom began, allowing a few moments to pass by as the students’ focus gathered on him. “We will be departing from our usual mode of conducting class. You see, while the subject of Arcane History is one that delves into our pasts, we seldom broach what impact we wish for it to have on our future. There are sixty one of you here, so I will let you all divide yourselves into groups of five each— a total of twelve groups.”

Before Tom could continue with his lecture, three hands shot up into the air.

A bit flabbergasted, Tom pointed to a girl with black hair and blue eyes before speaking in a questioning tone, “Yes?”

“Professor, what will be doing in these groups?” She asked, her tone carrying forward a self-assuredness.

Tom paused for a moment to consider her question.

‘Did she really just ask me a question for the sake of asking one?’ He wondered, before shaking free of the momentary surprise.

“You will be discussing in groups the topic I am allotting to you for the next thirty minutes. After which, each of the groups will send one representative forward and give a presentation on the impact they believe the historical event has had in shaping our current world,” Tom explained, not letting any of his amusement leak into his tone. Visit nov3lb!n(.)com for new novels

Valan Longstradia, the great face of evil, was a name mentioned repeatedly in the discussion. An indestructible aegis that required the King himself to personally slay, the most powerful defender of the traitorous family.

It was said that like the king, the Longstradia Family’s head had possessed a Rare card, but there was no official confirmation of the same until this date.

Tom didn't need his battle-honed instincts to tell him that the man his students were talking about was Aleph’s father.

‘Even his enemies can’t stop talking about him long after he’s gone. He must’ve been one hell of a man,’ Tom evaluated in the privacy of his thoughts, as he tried to reign in the anger that flared up at having his friend’s family being berated so harshly.

‘I asked for this,’ He reminded himself. ‘Information is always better than the alternative, namely the lack of it. I’ve suffered enough for it in this world and I think I’ve had enough of that.’

The presentations began not long after Tom had steeled his resolve, regurgitating much of the same information he had noted down with much more dramatic flair. It seemed like most, if not all the chosen students had turned out to be nobles, as they espoused the duty of the rulers to maintain a loyalty to their subjects.

They spoke of the reforms and policy measures Covan Nottrakon I had taken after the purge, the safeguards he laid down by ordering the Nobles to strengthen the Royal Knights so they would be prepared— if such a regrettable situation were to occur again.

A watered down version of Noblesse Oblige mixed with a healthy dose of propaganda summarized the presentations well.

“Well students,” Tom addressed the class after the last presentation had concluded. “That will be all for today. I hope you learned from your peers in other groups as well as you did from each other. Oh right, before I leave,” Tom allowed just a hint of a mischievous smirk creep up his features. “Zaphn-alre-snanh weweri-kal-mok,” He offered them his parting words in the old Aldorian tongue, which Tom knew just enough bits and pieces of from Neliel’s memories to weave a basic sentence.

He strode out of the classroom, peeking at the student’s expressions just as he stepped out of the doorway.

Most seemed uninterested, their curious energies spent in the classrooms. A few, however— those that were genuinely interested in the subject, enough to learn old Aldorian so they could read through the records left in the library, had surprised expressions as they made out the meaning behind Tom’s words.

“History, arcane or otherwise, is written by the winners.”