Chapter 47: Questions
Hearing those words, both Gretchen and Rob turn pale.
After a heavy pause, Rob speaks, a thread of anger lacing his voice. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean exactly what I said,” Mark replies offhandedly. “Now, moving to the crux of the matter.”
Mark glances around the quiet house before turning back to them. “You’ve heard stories about magic, right?”
Rob shifts uncomfortably, giving a slight nod. Beside him, Gretchen grips William’s arm so tightly that William winces in pain.
“Those stories are real—well, most of them, anyway,” Mark continues smoothly. “And William here has the talent to learn magic. He will be coming with me to study at an academy established by the Royal Family for children with potential.”
Mark rests his elbows on the table, his gaze sharpening. “And before you ask, this is non-negotiable. It is by direct decree of the Crown.”
The room falls dead silent. Gretchen’s fingers slowly slip from William’s arm as her breath catches.
After a long beat, she stammers, “How... what... why? I mean—”
Rob reaches across the table, squeezing his wife's trembling hand. He turns to Mark, his jaw tight. “Why William?”
“Simply because he has the potential for it,” Mark replies, leaning back.
“How do I know you’re not lying?!” Gretchen interrupts, her voice rising.
Mark sighs, deciding a single action will be more convincing than a thousand words. He closes his eyes. A cool breeze suddenly sweeps through the enclosed room, ruffling everyone's hair and clothes and temporarily lifting the heavy atmosphere hanging over the table.
“Was that... magic?” Rob asks, a mix of wonder and fear trembling in his voice.
Mark nods simple agreement before reaching into his satchel for one final piece of proof. He pulls out a metal badge bearing the emblem of a rising sun whose rays radiate over mountains and sea, sliding it onto the wooden table.
Rob freezes, his breath locking in his chest. “Is this...?”
He looks up at Mark, who answers with a quiet nod. Rob’s shoulders slump as a dark shadow settles across his face.
Gretchen, confused by her husband's reaction, leans closer to him. “Rob, what is it?”
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“This is the emblem of the Crown,” Rob says, unable to tear his gaze away from the crest.
Gretchen scrutinizes the badge, her voice wavering. “What if it’s fake?”
“I wouldn't know for sure—I’ve only seen it once at the town hall when we bought this house,” Rob admits quietly. “But forging the royal crest in any way is high treason, punishable by death.”
William tracks Mark’s calm posture. How does he have that? William thinks. Is he a member of royalty, too? But why would they send someone like him just to escort students and inform parents?
His thoughts break when he notices Gretchen looking at him, tears welling in her eyes.
“Is it going to be dangerous?” she asks, her voice trembling.
Mark sits up straight, his tone softening. “I would be lying if I said no. Magic itself is dangerous. But leaving someone with potential untrained is far more dangerous.”
“What do you mean by that?” Rob asks.
“Whether he wants to or not, William will eventually come across things or people that normal folk never encounter,” Mark replies seriously. “That isn't a possibility—it's a certainty, whether he learns magic or not. What we offer is the training to handle it, so he's prepared for anything out of the ordinary.”
“When and where?” Rob asks, pressing his hands flat against the wood, his knuckles turned white from tension.
Gretchen tries to speak, but seeing the helpless expression on her husband's face, she quietens down.
“A week from now,” Mark answers. “He will be trained in the capital. As for where exactly in the capital, I can't reveal that. But you don't have to worry—he won't be alone. There are usually sixty to seventy children recruited every year.”
“How long will it take?” Gretchen asks, her voice thick with emotion. “And can we visit him... or can he come visit us?”
“The core study takes about five years,” Mark replies. “As for visits, students are granted a one-month break at the end of each year. I wouldn't recommend traveling to the capital yourselves—a normal journey would take you nearly a month each way. William, however, can return much faster using magic.”
“Now, if neither of you has any more questions, let's deal with the boy's cover story,” Mark says.
Rob responds with a silent, heavy nod after receiving a quiet approving glance from Gretchen.
Mark pulls a pair of parchment sheets from his satchel. “We need a proper story for why William is moving—something you can tell the rest of your children and the townspeople.”
Rob tilts his head in confusion. “Is that really necessary? We aren't going to tell anyone the truth anyway. We can just make something up.”
Mark grins. “It's a necessary precaution. And the best way to lie is to mix bits of truth into it.”
“The Royal Family maintains several shadow companies operating out of the capital,” Mark explains, tapping the paper. “One of their main functions other than trading is to provide cover identities for students like William.”
Mark slides the documents toward Rob. “Since William already knows how to read and write, his official story is that he’s been hired as a personal scribe in the capital. His employer? The son of a wealthy merchant who is launching a new business venture to prove his worth to his father.”
Mark smirks, pointing a finger at his own chest. “That spoiled merchant’s son is me. And these parchments are William's official employment contracts.”
Rob picks up the contract, scanning the ink-written terms. “So if anyone asks... we just say he got hired by a passing merchant’s son?”
“Exactly,” Mark says. “If someone ever digs into it, the merchant house, the business records, and the employment registry in the capital will all match this contract perfectly. It's a complete, legally binding lie.”