CHAPTER 819: A FOOLISH STALK OF LAVENDER

The next day, Adam, Quintella, and Bao’s routine began to settle. He trained them for a couple of hours before dawn, then shared breakfast in the Common Hall when the sun rose—savory meat sandwiches and eggs whose yolks were a viscous, sun-gold custard. Each ingredient was so saturated with mana that Quintella and Bao finished eating and stretched, their weariness melting away as if they’d woken from a deep nap. Adam watched them, smiling behind his steamy cup of jasmine tea, the honey-sweet scent as soothing as a cultivator’s incense.

After the warm moment, he spotted Desmond’s approach. With infinite gentleness, he sent Quintella and Bao to rest in their rooms.

"Humph!" Quintella snarled as she passed Desmond. "I’m tired of seeing your face, Sleep wrecker."

The teenager gazed left, right, then pointed at his own face as if asking, "Me?"

"Attention, please," he called, attracting the handful of students already awake at dawn. "We seem to have a lost child. If anyone knows her parents, please step forward." His lips curved into a knowing smirk beneath his palm. "Oops, my mistake, guys. I forgot a pipsqueak snuck into our House."

"Desmond," Adam called, his voice grim. "Sit."

Quintella watched the teenager wave dismissively as he sat across from Adam. Competitiveness ignited in her pink eyes.

She pointed her finger at him, her other hand planted on her hip. "I’ll beat you up in a month!"

Bao raised her tiny paw, growling in support.

"Good. See you in a month." Desmond shrugged, and Quintella stomped out of the Hall, exhaling through puffed cheeks.

Students discussed the incidents, a few annoyed by Desmond’s antics, more interested in the challenge. Not Adam. He massaged his brow, sighing. "Guess nothing changed. Still can’t you act your damned age instead of provoking her?"

"Hey!" Desmond grabbed a sandwich, pursing his lips. "You heard her pick on me first. Anyway, that challenge is just a joke. We have more important business to discuss."

The long table’s napkin crumpled beneath his elbow. He leaned on it, his face a few inches away from Adam when he whispered. "About yesterday... I won’t talk. Not because of your threats, but..."

He paused, lips quivering.

Adam continued with a smile. "Because we’re friends? Fine by me."

Desmond’s shoulders ruffled his dark robes, his fist tightening on the table. The loneliness that had obscured his purple eyes lit up, and a radiant grin broadened across his face. "Yes. Friends—genuine friends." He nodded. "So, my friend, what are we going to do about the golem?"

A shiver ran down Adam’s spine when he heard Desmond’s honeyed voice. For a moment, his gaze shifted between his cup of tea and the teenager, wondering which was the sweetest.

"I almost preferred when you called me blue bastard..." He rolled his eyes. "I’ll ask Teacher Viktor about the construct. Want to tag along?"

Desmond shook his head. "I’m trapped behind a desk until evening today. Well, don’t forget: if you need anything, just ask me." He pointed his thumb at his own chest. "That’s what friends are for, right? At least I won’t hold back. Since you’re the mysterious enchanter, I need a staff, but I could do with a powerful wand. Armor is a must, too. I’d say a complete set, perhaps a spare one too—"

"Desmond," Adam interrupted, clutching his scalp, veins pulsing on his forehead. "Go to class. Now."

With a grumble through the sandwich he munched on, Desmond pushed himself up, but Adam made out, "stingy blue bastard."

His expression eased for a moment before the stories of Desmond’s grandfather crept into his thoughts like uninvited blights. "Now that I think about it."

Desmond paused as Adam started. "I’d like to meet your mother."

"..."

A heavy silence settled between them. Desmond’s face contorted in a grimace redder than blood as he slammed the table. When he spoke, each word was detached, laced with anger he could barely suppress. "There are boundaries even friends can’t cross. She’s a married woman!"

"What?!" Adam leapt to his feet, a wronged furrow creasing his brow. "You foolish stalk of lavender! I want to talk about her father’s stories!"

"Ah!" Desmond yelped, eyes wide in realisation. "It’s fine then." He coughed into his fist, turning to hide his embarrassed blush. "I’ll invite you home when the semester ends."

"Why not after class?" Adam clicked his tongue.

"Why would we have dorms if we could just sleep at home?" Desmond shrugged. "Except during vacations, we can’t leave campus."

"I can... wait." Nodding reluctantly, he moved toward the exit with Desmond.

Before parting, he asked where Teacher Viktor would be. Based on the teenager’s answer, the magus rarely left his building. Smithy, research office, resting areas, and classroom. Everything he needed was at arm’s reach. Even food was delivered to his working table by his disciples. Desmond had chuckled, saying they might even feed him while he focused on his projects. He also recommended taking the class to earn more points. After all, the bulk was gained in the general courses, where all three houses competed for them, not in the specialised ones.

It didn’t bother Adam. In fact, he sighed in relief as he drew close to a building. Smoke rose from dozens of massive chimneys. From outside, the familiar scent of coal and hot wind slapped not his face, but his crafter’s soul.

When he opened the door, the heat intensified, and when he reached the empty classroom, realisation settled on him. Rows of anvils faced glowing furnaces. The orange glow, the crackle of fire, the minerals neatly arranged on the tables, and the grimy tubes of oil added a greasy stench to the heat.

This was not a classroom. It was a temple of craftsmanship.

While he observed the heavy leather aprons tucked in front of each station and the familiar utensils silently gleaming against the fire, a teacher lifted his eyes from a parchment. He stroked his bushy moustache, frowning at Adam as if trying to remember him.

"Class hasn’t started," he commanded, his deep voice overwhelming the noise of the forge. "You’re no student of mine, are you?"

Adam observed the man draped in light robes. Unlike the exorcists, he had the mature visage of a man in his prime, angular and manly. His head was shaved. Hair and fire didn’t go along well, Adam mused before answering the man.

"Adam. Not one of your students, teacher Viktor. But Rector Haldris told me you could help me with enchantments related to constructs."