Chapter 172
"Any luck with casting that spell yet, Charlie boy?" One boy with bright green hair asked with a mocking smile as he bumped into Charles' back, sending the boy stumbling forward.
Charles turned back to face the green haired bully with a glare before replying. "Fuck off, Mark." With a scoff, Charles turned back to his books that had fallen to the floor and picked them up before walking away, leaving the bully, Mark, and his clique, standing there, stunned.
They hadn't expected Charles to have reacted that way. Sure, he glared back at them, and usually ignored them, but he usually held back from replying to their snide comments.
"It seems we need to teach little Charles a lesson, don't you think, boys?" Mark chuckled lowly as he cracked his knuckles, and the boys around him nodded their heads eagerly.
The students around them who had witnessed what had happened all ignored what was going on. No one was in a mood to stand up for Charles, and those who would have done so were currently absent.
"Idiot went ahead and spoke back to Mark."
"He's done for."
"Bleh, what is he even doing here? He can barely cast the basic spells."
Various students had their own thoughts on Charles, the new student who could barely cast three beginner spells before running out of mana, and they did not hesitate to share that opinion with their friends.
A shrill ring of the bells signaled that their last class for the day would be coming to an end, and everyone rushed to their various classes. The first year students made their way to their various homerooms, while those from other years also went ahead to their own classes.
Both Charles and Mark were first year students, but the gap between them could not be even wider.
Charles had a mild, and insignificant affinity for magic that barely reached the E-grade, while Mark had a B-grade talent in magic. That alone created a vast gulf between their social status that Mark took every chance he had to rub it in Charles' face for fun.
Upon getting to his homeroom, Class 1C, Charles simply walked all the way to his seat at the back and slumped down at it. Most people just ignored him, but he could feel quite a few stares on the back of his head while he walked to his spot.
When he was comfortable seated, he leaned back and whispered out a single word.
"Idiots."
A few minutes later, the teacher of the class stepped in and eyed the entire class, checking to see if everyone was present. Of course, all the students were present, after all, no one would want to get on their teacher's bad side, or else he would just give them some extra and annoying work to do over the winter break.
"I hope you all are ready for the winter break?" The lean man, Edward Pike, smiled at the class and got cheers of approval from the students. "Good. For your winter break, I have a rather normal task for you all. I want each and everyone of you to find yourselves a familiar. I hope you all know what that means?" He quirked a brow at them and a few students immediately raised their arms.
"Sherlock, how about you?" He picked out a boy that sat at the front of the class. He had few friends, and usually kept to himself, but was a genius, not only in academics, but also in magic. Sherlock had a A-grade, so he was easily able to stand out amongst his peers.
However, instead of being conceited and rude about it, he chose to keep to himself and remain humble.
"Familiars are magical beasts that are tame enough to form a contract that binds them to a mage." Sherlock smartly answered.
"Right, but it's not only mages that can contract beasts. Even some warriors with that have a greater grasp of mana can contract a familiar." Edward nodded at Sherlock. "Now then, your assignment for the winter break is rather simple. I want you all to find yourselves a familiar. Anything of the D class and above will do." The man said, and then dismissed the class.
"Have a great winter, students. See you next year." With that, them man sat down behind his desk and began to flip through some papers as the students packed up their things and began leaving the classroom in groups.
Charles packed up his books into his bag and quickly left the room. He knew that the retribution for standing up to Mark was coming, and he was planning on doing his best to avoid it.
He quickly left the main building of the Royal Academy, and began making his way home. The ground was covered in a few inches of snow by now, and the skies were cloudy. With a shiver, he pulled the scarf around his neck a bit tighter, and continued on his way.
Carriages pulled by horses and weak magical beasts made their way past him, but he did not linger to admire the view.
"Hey, Charlie boy!" The voice that Charles dreaded the most rang out not too far behind him, and Charles broke into a sprint.
"Wait up, will ya?!" Mark yelled as he too broke into a sprint, with a couple of his goons not too far behind him.
Although Charles had the initial advantage, the gap between them was soon closed, and Mark wrapped and arm around his shoulder before pulling him into a narrow alley when he was sure that there was nobody around who would witness them bullying Charles.
"Mark, stop it!" Charles tried to hold his ground and push the bully away, but all that earned him was a solid blow to the belly.
"Shut up, you stinking low life." He pressed his foot onto the back of Charles' head, who had leaned down, gripping his belly after that firm blow. "You don't even deserve to be the dirt underneath my feet."
"Don, hand me my staff." Mark held out an open hand to one of his followers, who handed him a fine wooden staff with a red gem atop it.
"How would you like your punishment, Charlie boy? Burnt hair or eyebrows?" Mark tilted his head.
"Fuck off, asshole." Charles gritted through his teeth and tried to raise his head up.
"Are you-" Mark started.
"And what is going on here?" A strained voice rang through the alleyway, interrupting Mark's sentence, and startling all the boys.
'Thank heavens.' Charles whispered internally. It seemed like the only thing he would get after this encounter was a bruised abdomen.
"Out of here, you miscreants!" The elderly man spoke, and Mark took off with his goons, running through the alleyway and exiting from the other end of it.
Charles stayed bent over for a few more seconds, bracing himself against the pain, before sitting up and looking at the man who had helped him get rid of his bullies.
An elderly man in ragged clothes walked into the alleyway, and bent in front of Charles.
"Are you okay, kiddo?" The man asked with a concerned frown over his face.
"Yeah, thanks a lot." Charles gave the man a strained smile.
"It's okay. I was bullied a fair bit during my time, and it is something I frown upon." The man smiled at Charles warmly before pulling out a wide parchment of leather and spreading it on the ground so he and Charles could sit. "You can rest here for a bit." The man told Charles, and the boy nodded in appreciation.
"Thanks."
A few minutes passed in silence before the man spoke up again.
"What is your name, boy? I can not keep calling you kid or boy, you know." He smiled.
"A-ah! Sorry, my name is Charles." Charles said with an embarrassed smile.
"Charles, a nice name for a modest young man. You can call me Daniel, although you can go with 'gramps' as a less formal name." The old man, Daniel, smiled warmly at Charles again.
"Alright... Gramps." Charles nodded. He chose to go with a less formal name, as the man had provided it in the first place.
"Good. Well then, I hope you have a nice day, young Charles. Before you go, let me give you a gift." The man reached into his pocket and fetched out a mug sized oval egg-like sculpture. "Take is as a gift for the festivities."
"Oh-oh! I can't take this!" Charles stammered when he looked at the gift that Daniel had presented him. The egg-like sculpture had elaborate marks, and looked expensive and rather brilliant. It looked like something that a child like him should definitely not be given to hold.
"Don't worry about any of that. Also, here, take this." Daniel fished out a small pearl and gave it to Charles.
"Whoa! Gramps, I can't take this!" Charles jumped to his feet. He felt bad taking all this from a man who seemed to be homeless.
One Two Three.