Do ratmen dream of the sacred tree of spirits?

Chapter 53 Transfer

"Ouch...it hurts..."

A whole day has passed, and it's lunchtime.

Yesterday morning's "gap filling" was extremely painful and has continued into today; Fafnir feels like he has neuralgia.

"Oh well, it's nothing, just a small matter, a necessary step on the road to advancement," Fafnir comforted himself.

Yesterday, under Mr. Victor's guidance, Fafnir filled the first "spiritual gap." In his spiritual vision, it was about the size of two fingernails on his left hand.

Fafnir tried using the fireball spell, only to find that the fireball he could previously cast instantly could now barely produce a tiny, candle-sized "fireball" with very little heat.

Vision is still usable, but it doesn't last long.

It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter. There's no need to use magic now anyway. It's not like I'll suddenly need to use a fireball or even a fireball spell, Fafnir thought.

Let's go eat first!

……

The third public canteen is still crowded at lunchtime, except on weekends when it gets less crowded.

Fafnir, carrying his plate of fried meat, soup, and a piece of white bread, found a corner to sit down.

He ate slower than usual, and his left hand was weak. When he used cutlery to cut meat, his left arm ached slightly when he used his left wrist to grip the fork.

"Fafner?"

He raised his head.

Joël Lorraine stood opposite, holding a tray of food. Her long blonde hair was tied into a braid and hung down her chest. She was wearing her gray school uniform neatly.

Cecilia stood to the side as usual.

"Is anyone here?"

Fafnir shook his head.

After Joelle sat down, she placed the bread and soup on her right and the fried fish on her left. She glanced at Fafnir's left hand holding the fork, and then at the meat on his plate.

"What happened to your hand?" Joelle asked softly.

"It's nothing, I accidentally injured myself while practicing magic yesterday."

"Excuse me, what kind of magic could have injured your hand?" Joelle asked curiously.

"Fireball, hmm... the spiritual output is a bit unstable, it bounced back a bit."

Joelle said "Oh," and didn't ask any more questions. She picked up a piece of fish and took a bite.

The two ate quietly with their heads down for a while. The cafeteria was noisy, and several students at the next table were making a ruckus.

"Fafner," Joel suddenly spoke up, "I've heard about your resignation."

Fafner raised his head,

“My father went to the meeting that day too,” she paused, “and when he came back he said that the rat-man kid had a tough time too.”

“My father rarely praised people,” Joel said, “especially not… someone who wasn’t an elf.”

"Please thank Lord Lorraine for me."

"Why don't you talk to him yourself? You've met him before," Joelle said casually. "You used to mop the floor at my house."

Fafnir paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "That was two years ago."

“I was in the castle two years ago,” Joelle said, “but I didn’t know you at all then, I probably hadn’t even seen you before. I was probably practicing the piano upstairs while you were mopping the floor.”

"fine."

"What's so good about it?" Joelle curled her lip.

"I'd rather mop the floor. Practicing the piano is so boring. Two hours every day, playing the same piece over and over again."

Fafnir couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"What are you laughing at?"

"It's nothing," Fafnir said. "I just didn't expect that even the esteemed Viscount's daughter would find practicing the piano boring."

"Honestly, even the Viscountess's daughter doesn't like boring practice." Joël picked up another piece of fish with her fork and chewed it a few times.

……

On Friday afternoon during the last week of the semester, Fafner was packing his things in his dorm room.

There was a knock on the dormitory door.

Mr. Victor stood in the doorway, holding a manila envelope in his hand.

"Good afternoon, Fafnir. Are you packing?"

"Hello, Mr. Victor, please come in."

Mr. Victor sat down on the edge of the bed and placed the envelope on the table.

"Your transfer notice," he said. "Starting next semester, you'll be going to a school under construction in the east of the city."

"A school under construction?"

"Well, the full name hasn't been decided yet. For now, it's called 'Ryan City East District Poor Children's School'," Mr. Victor said.

"It's a joint venture between the Church of the God of Death and the City Hall, specifically for children from poor families, and it's free."

"Is the school still not finished?"

"We have the space. It's near the old church in the east of the city. A few empty houses can be converted and it'll be ready to use," Mr. Victor said.

"But there may not be enough teachers."

There are currently three finalized candidates, making a total of four including you.

We expect to have around 70 or 80 students, ranging in age from six to twelve. They can be children from nearby alleys, or even from further away.

Fafnir thought for a moment: "Mr. Victor, what courses will they be taking?"

"Literacy, arithmetic, and some basic common sense,"

There were no classes on magic, literature, or history; those were too far removed from their lives.

"Then, what should I teach?"

"I'll teach you everything," Mr. Victor said. "You'll see when you get there."

Fafnir thought for a moment and said:

"Mr. Victor, did you arrange this transfer?"

"I discussed it with Professor Zere," Mr. Victor said.

"If you stay at grammar school, Aldrich won't stop causing trouble."

Go to that school that's still under construction; no one will pay attention to you. You can practice your magic quietly, and teaching will just be a side job.

Besides, school lets out at 3 p.m., so you'll have plenty of time to manage your own affairs.

Fafnir nodded. "Okay, thank you!"

Mr. Victor looked at him, his tone becoming more serious: "Little Fafnir, do you know why we sent you to that school?"

"Is it to keep me away from Aldridge?"

“Not entirely,” Mr. Victor said. “Those children, nobody taught them.”

They had no books, no pens, not even a proper classroom. They were different from you, and even more different from the students at grammar schools today.

Mr. Victor paused for a moment: "What they need is not a powerful magic teacher, but someone willing to teach them to read and to do arithmetic."

This will prevent them from having to work as dockworkers or mine coal in the future.

Mr. Victor stood up and gently patted him on the shoulder: "We'll talk about next semester."

Have a good holiday, my little Fafnir!

"Thank you, Mr. Victor."

Victor walked to the door and paused. "By the way, there are no faculty dormitories over there. You'll have to commute from the grammar school's dormitories, walking there every morning, which takes about forty minutes."

"no problem."

"Also," Mr. Victor said, "there's no canteen over there, so you'll have to bring your own lunch."

"Okay, I understand."

Goodbye, my little Fafnir!

"Goodbye, Mr. Victor!"

Mr. Victor pushed open the door and went out.

Fafner sat on the edge of the bed, looked at the brown paper envelope on the table, picked it up and opened it.