"Magical Materials Utilization" Orientation (1)
After my first month as a professor at Traperon University, the moon had changed. The campus buzzed with excitement from the incoming freshmen, who infused it with energy and the heavy scent of alcohol. There were no status restrictions for admission to the magic university. But the tuition was no sum anyone could casually afford. As a result, most students—barring a few exceptions—came from well-off families, and these newbies, thrilled by the novel surroundings, pumped vitality even into the shops around campus with their spending.
The campus right before the new semester felt like a massive beast shaking off its winter hibernation. At the Imperial University, freshmen sometimes got so carried away they literally created life. Watching powerful nobles bow their heads low, dragging their young offspring forward while yelling their heads off—it was quite the spectacle. Maybe it amused me because it meant even my advisor got chewed out by worldly authorities. Anyway, most families drilled that kind of etiquette into their kids, so it wasn't a common occurrence. Even if some hot-blooded student lost control, we'd only hear about it around finals. For now, the campus brimmed with lively peace before the storm hit.
My research lab was a bit removed from the undergrad hotspots, so I didn't see much of it firsthand. But heading to the faculty dorms, the department office, or out for meals made it real. Suddenly, people were striking up conversations out of nowhere.
"Mind if I sit up front if you're alone?"
That kind of thing. People plopping down without warning or asking for a seat when I was solo. I get it if seats are scarce, but why keep chatting up the person in front? They acted like it was their duty to buddy up, making the whole spot awkward. Thanks to that, I started going out with Arienael more often. Folks who assumed they could join a lone guy steered clear when it was two of us. I worried it might bother her, but she seemed quietly thrilled.
"Glad we could sync our schedules. Good work."
"Tomorrow's your first class, right?"
"Yeah."
"Should I sit in too?"
"It's the opener, so yeah, the TA should show face. No intros or anything, so don't sweat it. Got classes?"
"No. I scheduled most for Tuesdays and Thursdays. Wednesdays have one in the afternoon, but mornings won't clash if I join."
My theory lectures were Monday and Wednesday mornings, labs Friday afternoons. Arienael had smartly dodged overlaps in her timetable. Afternoons Mondays and Wednesdays. Afternoons to early evenings Tuesdays and Thursdays.
"Labs'll be tricky to time. You'll be swamped this semester."
Meaning no lunchtime experiments during term. Maybe I should've told her to overlap with my theory slots. Too late now. One day at a time. Busy experiments over break would cover it. Skipping a class for conferences? No biggie.
"Yes. I'll push through even if it's tough."
"Good. It'll ease up after a bit. Done eating? Let's head in."
Not a total lie. Just a long "bit."
First week's prep was done, but no slacking. Arienael had to crank out lecture materials twice weekly. Weekly labs on top. I had to nudge those ugly assignments I'd submitted to the university. Plus brainstorm research topics with her—and probably sketch out experiments myself. Oh, and draft another project proposal this semester for funding. And that was just lab stuff. Seminars, conferences, uni duties, performance reports... my head already spun. No wonder I was dodging or delaying casual meal invites.
"How's the first class going down? You said you'd handle it."
Uh. Hadn't thought much. Intro myself, toss some basics, let them figure it out.
"Orientation's no big deal. Call roll, intro myself, outline the course. Q&A till I run dry, then bail early. Kids love that."
"...True, but can you say that?"
"What changes if I don't? Some drop day one if you dive in. Means the course is packed. No need to sour first impressions."
Those classes rarely canceled even pre-exams, and prof emergencies meant makeups.
"Fair point, but..."
"I'll run today's show, you fret over labs. Research starts with term."
"Huh? Jumping in week one?"
"Yeah. TA's gotta be at labs too. More hands-on than theory. Prep experiments ahead."
"I'm not the one experimenting, though?"
"Still, field questions. Help kids, handle accidents—I can't solo big ones. If it was just standing pretty, I wouldn't call you."
I handed her the paper on the first lab. She looked worried.
"What's the experiment?"
"You saw the gear and mats. Stamina recovery potion. Easy to source commercial ones for checks."
"How check? Feed the injured?"
"...Human trials? Can't test unverified on people. Or animals."
"Then how know if it's good?"
"Test kits exist, but pricey. Mana sensitivity, sample reactions. Use the alchemy bench."
"That tells potion efficacy?"
"Roughly. Real effects might differ. But this lab replicates a known potion—recipe and effects public, down to traces and steps. Simple tests suffice."
"Public? Aren't they secret?"
"Depends on the potion."
Dozens of stamina types, varying by maker. This one's mass-produced cheapie—no fancy ingredients or methods. Weak effects led to public disclosure for quality assurance, probably.
"Complicated. Thought I was prepped, but underestimated."
"Oh, no books or notes by potions. Stash 'em if spotted."
"Got it."
"I might miss some. No need to report—just drawer it."
"Okay."
"Good work. Head in, rest up. See you tomorrow."
"Yes. Good night, Professor."
Her face lit up; she bowed quick and bolted. Right—Monday tomorrow meant today was weekend.
*
Next day, I skimmed a textbook in the lab, checked materials, headed to the lecture hall. About twenty enrolled, per records. Light for a course drawing from alchemy dept too. Blame the sudden prof swap. Original cap was double or triple. Easier to manage—secretly pleased. No way I'd memorize twenty faces and names. But not too few, either.
Crossing undergrad zones and library plaza to the building, eyes locked on. Freshmen still baby-faced, upperclassmen flaunting chill vibes, weary grads—all side-eyeing. Some halted for stares. I drew looks usually, but today was next level. Blame the elf beside me.
Arienael seemed unfazed. Newbies usually cringe under scrutiny, but she just looked mildly sheepish. Like she was used to it. Makes sense—lone elf amid humans for four years? Instant fame. Bet classes were a trek. Guess we were alike. Explained why she welcomed prof meal invites over dreading them.
幸好 no idiots blocking paths or chatting us up—we hit the hall on time. No glares or gestures needed; they parted like pros. Perks of professorship.
Three minutes early. Dropped books, psyched up. Scanning students, plenty gawking at Arienael. Some guys mouths agape, oblivious. She'd donned a baggy cloak she never wore in-lab. Now I got why.
Class time, most guys ignored the podium. Girls? Laser-focused. Glanced at Arienael on entry, then straight to me—like, start already. Those big, bright eyes burned with zeal. Commendable.
"Alright, everyone."
My voice pulled some eyes. Others still elf-struck. Lighting spell needed for focus? Flicked it on them, off. All heads snapped to me. A few awed at the deft touch; most smirked.
I ignored the smirks—they weren't at me. Light hit the guys. They flustered, ducked heads. Class stifled laughs. Sorry to immortalize it, but lesson learned? Chicks dig beauties, sure—but class is class. Embarrassing next to the focused ones.
Anyway, mood lightened. Smiling faces as I kicked off.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Roger Atwill, handling this semester's "Magical Materials Utilization". We'll cover using various spells, materials, and tools. Hope you all learn a ton. Looking forward to the term."
Arienael eyed me warily mid-greeting, relaxed after. First time she'd heard my polite side? Grads are staff; undergrads customers. Different treatment, naturally.