Chương 35: Chapter 33: The Vazaag (1)

"A peaceful year is a greater triumph than a battlefield full of your flags." – Sir Ganisaar Hagnaar, the Sixth Vazaag of Korsivir.

A roar went up from the field. Hundreds of graduates cheered at once. Teachers began clapping. Some students shouted the Vazaag's name. Even the clan students cheered as loudly as everyone else. Their usual pride meant little in front of the man who stood above every clan in Korsivir. Aloric stared, wondering what kind of manaweaving technique could make a person appear like that. Then again, whatever the Vazaag had used was probably far beyond anything an academy graduate could even begin to understand.

He had already known Sir Ganisaar was powerful. Everyone in Korsivir knew that. So did people beyond the city, beyond Varrenia, and certainly in Arkazaan, where stories of what he had done in the last war would never have faded. But seeing him appear like that, surrounded by a squad of SABLE operatives, made the stories suddenly feel much less exaggerated. Sir Ganisaar was not as tall as Aloric had imagined, but he did not need height to command the field.

Aloric knew him to be in his early sixties, with thick white hair swept back from a lined face and a full beard falling several inches below his chin. His white and pale gray robes were formal but plain, without jewels, golden embroidery, or anything that would have made him look like a noble showing off his wealth or station. He had been granted a title after the last war, which was why people called him Sir Ganisaar, but nothing about him looked like a man relying on that title alone.

No active rank-marker was visible on his left wrist. He did not need one. Even from this distance, there was something steady and dangerous in the way he stood, an authority that age had done nothing to diminish. Sir Ganisaar raised both hands. The cheering faded slowly, helped along by a teacher near the stage calling for silence. When the crowd finally quieted, the Vazaag smiled.

"Graduates of Korsivir's Mana Academy," he began. His voice carried clearly across the field, as if he were speaking from only a few paces away.

"Look at you all. Newly graduated, and standing so straight that I almost believe none of you ever caused trouble for your teachers." Laughter moved through the crowd. Near Aloric, Hovaru glanced toward Sikkar. The Rumiosi boy looked offended on principle. Sir Ganisaar's smile widened slightly.

"Do not worry. I will not ask your teachers to point anyone out. Some of them might enjoy that too much." The laughter grew louder. Some instructors near the stage smiled, though Teacher Daisor kept his expression carefully controlled.

"I remember my own graduation day," the Vazaag continued.

"Not on this field, and not with so many of you staring at me as if you expect me to demonstrate another technique, but with the same excitement in my chest and the same belief that graduation was the beginning of everything." His gaze moved across the graduates.

"In a way, it was. I did not know what waited for me then, just as none of you know what waits for you now. That is probably for the best. If every young manaweaver could see the entire road ahead, half would become too arrogant and the other half would refuse to take the first step." A few chuckles answered him. Sir Ganisaar gave them a knowing look.

"And yes, for those wondering, I was in the first half." This time even more students laughed. The Vazaag waited a moment before continuing.

"Today, you have earned the right to stand here as graduates of Korsivir's Mana Academy. That is not a small thing. You studied. You trained. You failed. You tried again. You argued with your teachers, disappointed them, surprised them, and in some cases probably made them wonder why they ever chose this profession." Laughter spread through the crowd. Someone somewhere shouted an apology to their teacher, drawing an even louder wave of laughter. Sir Ganisaar looked toward the teachers.

"I see at least three instructors who do not believe that apology." The laughter grew again. Aloric found himself smiling as well. It was strange how normal the Vazaag seemed. Sir Ganisaar let the laughter fade naturally. Then his expression softened, though his voice remained strong.

"Through all of that, you kept going. Some of you had natural talent. Some had the advantage of a powerful clan backing them. All of you had teachers who did their best to prepare you. But none of that could do the work for you. You had to get back up after every fall, learn from every failure, and keep going after you discovered that becoming a manaweaver was far harder than dreaming of it." The field grew quieter. Not tense. Just attentive. The Vazaag gave them a moment to absorb his words before continuing.

"Each of you has achieved something most children in this city only dream of. Be proud of that—of your effort and of the years you gave to stand in this field today. Your families will celebrate with you. And your teachers know exactly how far you have come, even if they later pretend they expected slightly more from you." Another wave of laughter passed through the students. A teacher near the stage raised one hand, and the crowd quieted again.

Sir Ganisaar waited until the last whispers faded, still smiling faintly. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"I will not tell you to stop being excited," he said.

"You should be excited. You are young. You have graduated. You are about to receive rank-markers, instructors, squads, duties, and access to parts of the city most children only hear about in stories. Some of you are probably imagining distant missions already." A few students shifted, smiling despite themselves.

"Perhaps you are thinking of traveling beyond Korsivir's walls. Perhaps beyond even Varrenia. Perhaps to some warm island where the sea is blue, the fruit is sweet, and no examiner is waiting behind a tree to throw a skel at you." That earned another burst of laughter. Even Aloric grinned. Sir Ganisaar's smile remained, but his next words came more slowly.

"Keep that excitement. You will need it. But from now on, you must also begin learning the difference between adventure and duty." The laughter faded.

"Adventure is what stories call it after the danger has passed. Duty is what it feels like while you are hungry, cold, tired, afraid, and still expected to make the correct choice." The field grew still. Aloric felt the change ripple through the graduates around him. Sir Ganisaar did not raise his voice. He did not need to.

"Most of you have lived your whole lives inside Korsivir. That is not an insult. It is a blessing. Inside these walls, you have reliable patrols, paved roads, electricity and piped water, trained mana healers and doctors, and gates strong enough that children can sleep without wondering what moves outside them." He looked across the crowd.

"Much of the world is not like this city. Beyond Korsivir and the other great cities of Varrenia, many of your missions will take you to remote towns, farming villages, mining camps, and frontier posts—places so small that the presence of a single healer can decide whether half a settlement survives the winter." No one laughed now.

"Most of those places lack the protections you grew up with. Electricity may be unavailable and clean water scarce, with no walls around them and no mana healers to treat injuries. You will meet people who live with far less safety than you were given, and you will still be expected to protect them." Aloric swallowed. He had known, in a vague way, that the world outside Korsivir was harsher. Hearing the Vazaag describe it so plainly made that danger feel much closer.

Sir Ganisaar turned slightly, and for the first time since appearing, he gestured toward the black stone wall behind him.

"This wall was raised so we would remember the cost of that protection." The field seemed to grow colder.

"Names are carved into this stone. Manaweavers. City guards. Scouts. Healers. Couriers. Teachers. Students who once stood where you stand now, then went beyond our walls and did not return." Aloric stared at the black wall. From this distance, he could not read any names, but the stone suddenly looked much heavier than before. Sir Ganisaar faced them again.

"I do not show you this to steal pride from today. You have earned your pride. But pride without truth can turn into arrogance very quickly." His voice stayed calm.

"Korsivir has survived wars, rifts, and monsters. It has endured shortages, betrayals, and years when our walls stood but our future did not look certain. But all of you were born after the rifts had closed, growing up in a quieter age than the one that shaped your teachers, your parents, and those whose names stand behind me." A few teachers near the stage had stiffened. Sir Ganisaar's expression did not change, but the warmth in his voice became more restrained.

"When I became the Vazaag, I wanted the children of Korsivir to remain children a little longer. I wanted our academy to train them without breaking them. I wanted fewer fourteen-year-olds to learn fear before they learned judgment. Some say that choice made recent graduates softer than those who came before." A murmur passed through the crowd before fading on its own. Sir Ganisaar did not look offended.

"Perhaps, in some ways, they are right." Aloric glanced toward Teacher Daisor. His teacher's face had become very still. Sir Ganisaar paused before continuing.

"But if that is true, then the responsibility is mine. I made that choice, and I stand by it." The words carried across the field, steady and absolute.

"A city that can protect its children should protect them. A leader who forgets that has no right to call himself one." The silence after that was different. Deeper. Sir Ganisaar let it hold for a moment before continuing.

"But protecting them does not mean hiding them forever. You are no longer academy children. You are not seasoned manaweavers either, though some of you may already be trying to pose as veterans." A few strained laughs moved through the crowd. The Vazaag's faint smile returned for only a moment.

"From now on, the city will ask more of you. Your instructors will ask more of you. The world beyond our walls will ask more of you. And I will not pretend the coming years will be easy." The teachers near the stage did not move, but Aloric noticed several of them watching the Vazaag more closely now.

"There are reasons I cannot explain to you today," Sir Ganisaar said.

"Not because you are unworthy, but because some burdens must wait until you have the rank, duty, and clearance to carry them. What I can say is this: the world is changing again, and Korsivir must be ready for it. That means each of you will have to become far more than a proud graduate." The field was utterly silent.

"You must become useful. Reliable. Disciplined enough to follow orders, brave enough to question the wrong ones, and loyal enough to remember that your power exists for more than your own advancement." His gaze moved over the graduates.

"Rich. Poor. Clan-born. Civilian-born. First in your class. Last to pass. None of that will matter when someone beside you is bleeding and the mission is not yet finished." Aloric's chest tightened. Around him, even the clan students had stopped shifting.

"So remember the discipline you learned here," Sir Ganisaar continued.

"Remember the bonds you have already made, and the ones you will make in the years ahead. Remember the teachers who shouted at you, corrected you, guided you, and refused to let you become less than you could be." A few students glanced toward their teachers. Teacher Daisor, standing near the stage, did not smile, but his expression softened slightly. Sir Ganisaar spread one hand slightly, not grandly, but enough to include the whole field.

"I see where you have chosen to stand today. Clan with clan. Civilian with civilian. Friends beside friends. That is natural. You are young, and people stand first with what they know." His voice hardened slightly.

"But learn fast. Once you leave the academy, the person beside you may be the reason you survive your first mission. Do not waste time asking whether they came from a clan. Ask whether they will stand with you when that moment comes. And make sure they can ask the same of you." No one answered. No one needed to. Sir Ganisaar looked toward the memorial wall again, then back to the graduates.

"You will win victories. You will make mistakes. You will see things that make your academy worries seem very small. Some days, you will be proud of yourself. Some days, you will wonder whether you chose the wrong life." His voice softened, but only slightly.

"On those days, remember this: Korsivir does not need perfect manaweavers. It needs those who learn from their mistakes and refuse to stay down. Courage is not the absence of fear. It is choosing your duty while fear is still standing beside you. And when the world knocks you down, remember that this city was built by people who rose again and again." Aloric felt something settle in him. Not comfort. Resolve. Sir Ganisaar lifted his chin.

"So be proud today. Laugh today. Let your families celebrate with you. Let your teachers pretend they were never worried. Eat too much if you must. Brag a little, if you have earned it." A few students laughed quietly.

"But when your rank-marker is placed on your wrist, remember what it means. It is not decoration. It is not proof that you are better than those without one. It is a promise that you will stand for Korsivir and for those who cannot stand for themselves." His voice carried over them all.

"It is a promise that when Korsivir calls, you will answer." The field remained silent for one breath. Then Sir Ganisaar raised his hand.

"Congratulations, graduates of Korsivir's Mana Academy. Your first step is behind you." His eyes swept over them one last time.

"Now become worthy of the next."