Spruce sat on the ground, with his head between his legs, and his hands on his head. He was dizzy, and he tried to control himself from vomiting.
“Are you okay?” Yew asked after he walked up to his neighbor.
“I feel sick,” Spruce responded.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, moved his head to the side, and vomited, receiving some ewwws from the nearby students, who didn’t like what they saw.
“Are you sick?!” the voice of the approaching teacher made everyone stand aside. “You don’t have to come to class, if you don’t feel well,” Cacao said, as he came closer. “Take him to the clinic,” he commanded Yew, who stood by Spruce. “I excuse both of you from today’s class. Just for confirmation, Spruce Fire and Yew Sky?”
“Yes, professor,” Yew answered.
“Good, then. I’ll mark your absence as excused today. Just go, already.” Then he turned to the other students and said in a loud voice, “everyone else, get inside the classroom, or I’ll give you negative points for being late.”
The students quickly hurried inside the classroom. Meanwhile, Spruce slowly stood up with Yew’s help and, as they began walking away, the teacher took a final look at them, nodded with sympathy, then also entered the classroom.
“Which way is the clinic?” Yew asked.
“How do I know?” Spruce responded, then added, “it’s fine. I’m not sick. That ride was just crazy.”
They stopped walking and Spruce pointed at the grass under a tree. “I just need to sit down for a bit, and it’ll go away.”
Both boys sat down on the grass under the tree. There were no other people around them, because students and teachers alike were already inside their classrooms holding classes for another hour.
Spruce kept his head down between his legs, and Yew was just quietly sitting next to him, while observing the empty roads, and wondering how odd it felt to be alone in such a vast labyrinth of buildings.
After a long time of rest, Spruce finally felt better. “Let’s go to Sorrel’s class,” he said, then slowly got up. Yew did the same.
Spruce’s legs were still tired from yesterday’s run, so he knew that he couldn’t walk fast. However they weren't far away from the History building, and with the extra time, which they had, he could slowly get there on time.
“So how did you happen to meet with that tutor?” Yew asked, after Spruce began walking.
“I woke up late today, and when I was on my way to class, she saw me and asked me, if I was skipping class. I told her that I’m late and I'm in a hurry. Then she dragged me onto that bench and before I could get off, the bench started flying.”
“She dragged you? Without asking if you want a ride or not?”
Spruce confirmed with a nod.
Yew thought for a moment. He remembered the first time, when Chervil came over to the classroom and introduced herself. She certainly appeared like a rather odd type of a person, and the latest story from Spruce made Yew even more afraid of the gal. He decided that he would stay away from her as much as possible, even if he had to skip Exercise classes every Wednesday.
The two of them arrived early to the Process class. The door was closed, because the previous class hadn’t yet finished. The boys sat by the wall. However they didn’t have to wait long, because soon the classes had ended, and the door to classroom B was opened from inside. The girls of the first year began stepping out and heading toward another classroom. Among them was Wasabi, who didn’t spot the boys, because she was busy talking with another girl from her class.
After all the students had left, Spruce and Yew got up from the ground, and entered the classroom, which was empty except for the teacher, who sat at her desk. Spruce quickly headed for his desk, while Yew took a moment to look around. Being the only two students in the classroom had an interesting feel to it, and Yew couldn’t quite tell what it was.
However, the quiet moment didn’t last long. Soon their classmates arrived. The room became full of students as usual, and the lecture started.
“Now that everyone can use magic, or their magical items,” Sorrel smiled at Spruce, “let us move on.”
She knocked on the board and two words appeared: «concentration», and «stamina».
“As you already know, concentration is necessary to start magic, and stamina is necessary to continue using magic. All of you had some stamina and some concentration, when you first came to Hecate. However, not all of you had enough to make magic happen, which is why you struggled to perform magic in your first week of school.”
She walked up to the word «concentration» and slid her finger under it. A vertical list of ten labels appeared from one percent until ten percent.
“Magic concentration is divided into three ranks: bronze, silver and gold. Each rank is further divided into percentages. Hundred percent of bronze rank is required to graduate Hecate. Hundred percent silver rank is considered to be a professional magus, and hundred percent gold rank is, well, rare.”
She took a moment to quietly look at her students. “When you first walked in this class, your concentration was somewhere near zero percent. It takes about one percent of bronze rank concentration to shake a pen, and in order to advance to the second year, you’ll need to have at least ten percent bronze rank concentration by the end of the school year.”
She turned back to the blackboard. “But concentration isn’t enough.”
She slid her finger under stamina, and once again a vertical list of labels appeared. This time, it started at zero percent and went up to five percent with the intervals of half a percent. “Stamina is also important. To measure stamina we use stamina levels. The lowest one being zero percent, which is that of a newborn baby. Thirty percent stamina is the average for most adults. Anything beyond that is considered above average levels of stamina.”
She faced the class once again. “You need at least five percent of stamina in order to graduate the first year. If you fail the minimum requirements in the magic concentration rank or in the stamina level by the end of the year, you’ll have to either repeat the year or find another school.”
She walked up to her desk. "So today, we’ll check your current concentration rank and stamina level.” She pointed at an alarm clock on her desk, “this is a stamina clock. As you see, it has percentages from zero point zero until one point zero. When your stamina goes over one percent, then it will do another circle. So, if any of you have a stamina of three percent then the clock handle will make three circles.”
Then she pointed at something, which looked like a thermometer, “this is a basic magic concentration indicator. It can be used to measure bronze rank from zero to fifty percent. I’ll read your namehoods, so if you hear your name, I want you to come to the desk, and move this pen,” she pointed at the pen on the table. “When you do that the magic concentration indicator will calculate your concentration, and the stamina clock will measure the amount of stamina you possess.”
She read out the namehood of the first student, and when he came up to her desk, she addressed him and the class, “make sure you give your best, or your results will be lower than actual.”
The student did try his best and received zero point seven percent on stamina, and two percent on his concentration. Sorrel noted down the results and called out the next person, who received zero point five percent on stamina, and two percent on his concentration. This pattern went on for another five people, who ranged between zero point five to one point two percent on stamina and between one to two percent on concentration.
Sorrel called out Linden, who came up to the table, and levitated the pen with ease. The stamina clock ranked four point six percent and the magic concentration indicator showed fourteen percent. The whole class couldn’t believe the results, and Sorrel shook her head in disapproval. With a scorn on her face, she wrote down the results. And when Linden was on his way back to his desk, she said to him, “please come to my office in the afternoon.”
Several namehoods later, Aspen was called to the teacher’s desk. He returned back with one point four percent level of stamina, and a whole eight percent bronze rank in concentration.
After all the magic-talented students were called, Sorrel called out Yew’s name. He came up to the teacher’s desk totally stressed. He didn’t know what his results would be, but he prayed that it wouldn't be anything higher than Linden’s. Trying to control his power as much as he could and use only the minimum of it, he slowly shook the pen.
Sorrel noted Yew's results: zero point seven percent on stamina and one percent on concentration.
Yew couldn’t feel happier how perfectly he managed to fit in with the average students around him. He returned back to his desk feeling blissfully relieved.
Last to be examined was Spruce. When he walked up to the teacher’s desk, Sorrel looked at him, and said, “oh yeah, your tool uses fire. Instead of floating the pen, please set it up on fire."
Spruce did just that. The pen burst into flames, and Sorrel looked at the stamina clock, which ran a full circle, and then another one and stopped at two point nine percent.
She took a quick look at the magic concentration indicator, and so did Spruce, who was so surprised that he stopped his magic. “Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized, ready to redo the flame, but Sorrel stopped him.
“It’s fine,” she put her hand over the pen, which wasn't even charred. “I already saw the result. Four percent,” she took back her hand, and wrote down both numbers next to Spruce’s namehood in her register book.
All students were beyond words, and many of them also looked at Linden, who simply rolled his eyes. Yew looked at Spruce, then at Linden, then back at Spruce, as he recalled Juniper’s words: “there are two kinds of geniuses in the world, those who start earlier than anyone else, and those who start later than everyone else.”
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