Knowledge is Power (2)
The effects of the school lunches were explosive. Sure, the territory's situation had improved compared to before. But for the common folk, soup packed with chunks of meat was still a rarity. Stuffing yourself full of meat? That was a luxury reserved for festival days.
On the academy's opening day, a crowd gathered in front of the hastily erected tent classrooms—from kids to elders leaning on canes, people of all ages. At least a hundred, lined up not just for the food... no, to gain knowledge. And then came the moment everyone awaited: first period.
Standing on the improvised podium was the academy's inaugural dean, Serina von Ludwig. Dressed in a crisp suit befitting her imperial mage tower background, she stepped to the blackboard with eyes burning with determination. Serina gripped the chalk with grim resolve.
"Greetings, everyone. I am Serina von Ludwig, the dean of this academy."
Her clear, bright voice quieted the murmurs. Though the crowd seemed far more interested in the pots of meaty soup prepared for lunch than in her lofty title.
"For our first lesson: Understanding Matter. To build machines, we must first know what the world is made of, right?"
Serina drew a circle on the blackboard with the chalk and began her calm explanation. "These particles hold hands and bond, taking on new properties. We call this a chemical reaction..."
"Excuse me, teacher!"
A bearded miner in the front row shot his hand up. His hands were callused and rough, his eyes gleaming with pure curiosity.
"Can you see those particles with your eyes?"
"No, they're too small to see with the naked eye."
"How do you know they exist if you can't see 'em? Magic? My mana sensitivity's crap, though."
Crack. The chalk in Serina's hand snapped.
"...Hoo."
Serina took a deep breath. Inside, she was probably screaming, Just shut up and memorize it! But she couldn't snap. She knew that question came from genuine ignorance. Yelling at someone eager to learn wasn't the mark of a true educator—she was hypnotizing herself into believing that. Setting down the broken chalk, she forced the gentlest smile she could muster.
"Excellent question. It's not magic. Just like air exists though we can't see it, elements exist by natural laws. For now... let's start by accepting it as 'that's how it is'?"
"Hmm, believing in something invisible is tough. Kinda like my wife's nagging."
The miner scratched his head and muttered. Laughter erupted throughout the classroom. Serina was seething inside but desperately swallowing her frustration.
Meanwhile, things looked even worse in the next tent over, the second classroom.
"You idiots!!"
Clang! The sound of Grody slamming his monkey wrench on the workbench echoed all the way here.
"The threads are mangled! I said righty-tighty! You know clockwise? Clockwise!"
"T-Teaching assistant... I've never seen a clock..."
"...Ah."
People who'd gauged time by the sun's position their whole lives had no concept of "clockwise." Teaching engineering to folks with zero foundational knowledge meant hitting walls at every turn. They couldn't grasp theory, and practice lacked even basic concepts. At this rate, we'd produce no technicians—just waste my investment on lunches.
Arms crossed at the back of the classroom, I clicked my tongue watching it all.
The limits of rote education.
I sauntered forward with a chuckle. "That's enough, Dean."
"L-Lord? When did you get here?"
Serina finally let out her pent-up sigh, shoulders slumping.
"My lord... I'm sorry. I guess I'm not up to the task. Explaining chemical formulas to people who don't know mana or elements feels like talking to a wall."
"Yeah! Precision engineering to guys who can't even turn a screw right?!"
Grodi burst out from the next tent, venting his rage. I shrugged at their complaints.
"Obviously. These are people who've spent their lives mining and farming. They think words on a blackboard won't fill their bellies."
I grabbed the eraser and wiped away the complex chemical structures on the board.
"You're trying too hard. You can't teach a toddler sprinting before they learn to walk."
"But I started with the most basic elemental theory..."
"That's basic for mages. To them, words like 'elements' and 'bonds' are alien gibberish."
I tapped the blackboard. "Draw circles all day; it won't stick. They can't even read the letters yet—how're they supposed to understand?"
"Th-then what do we do? We can't skip theory for just practice."
"Who said skip? Switch the order."
I grinned at the students. "Don't cram theory first. Show them why they need it—with their eyes. Once it clicks, they'll be curious without you prodding."
"Clicks?"
"Yeah. Humans are drawn to the thrilling stuff."
I yelled toward Grody's tent. "Hey, factory chief! Stop chucking wrenches and bring your kids out! Outdoor class today!"
"What? Outdoor?"
"If words don't work, make 'em feel it. How thrilling this theory is."
Volfsberg Second Opencast Mine. The massive stepped excavation carved into the mountain displayed its majestic scale. But the site that should buzz with activity had been silent for days.
Hard granite.
"Milord, right here. Picks just bounce off—it's that tough."
The foreman sighed, pointing. A wall of black granite blocked the way. The students murmured. Breaking that would've taken high-circle mages days of nonstop work.
"Dean Serina. Want me to show what happens when those boring elements you drew get angry?"
"Pardon? A chemical reaction demo? But without mana, visible effects are..."
"Watch close. This is the chemistry you need to teach."
I carefully set down my prepped bag and opened it. Inside: a glass bottle of viscous liquid and a sack of fine earth powder. The moment Serina saw the bottle, her face went pale.
"M-Milord? That liquid isn't...?"
"Sharp eyes. Spot on."
"Are you insane?! That's nitroglycerin! Why carry it around in a bottle?!"
Serina recoiled in horror. The devil's liquid she'd sweated over stabilizing with cooling magic. A slight temperature rise or jolt, and it could obliterate the whole lab.
"Everyone back! Don't breathe hard! If that blows, we're all dead!"
Serina bellowed, sending students scrambling in panic.
"Hurry! Get that powder out! Mix it!"
"P-Powder?"
"Diatomaceous earth! I saw you kneading it with dirt last time! Mix and stabilize it—steady hands!"
Serina looked ready to snatch the bottle but stomped in place, terrified it'd explode. Her reaction was hilarious; I smirked and poured the liquid with utmost care.
"See? Even the dean's terrified."
I scooped powder from the sack beside me and began kneading.
"Please stop talking and just mix! You're shaving years off my life!"
Serina urged, voice cracking. Once it solidified, she finally collapsed, clutching her chest.
"Hah... hah... Milord's gonna be the death of me..."
I winked at the students while packing the finished dough into paper tubes.
"This liquid's nasty-tempered. Touch it wrong, boom."
I inserted fuses and finished the dynamite sticks, stowing them in the bag.
"So like Serina said, we soak it into this diatomaceous earth to calm it down."
I wedged three pre-made new sticks into rock crevices and ran a long fuse.
"Igniting! Everyone to that hill—evacuate!"
We scrambled from the pit floor to the safe hilltop.
"Ears plugged, mouths open! Don't wanna bite your tongue!"
Fizz— The fuse burned fast into the cracks.
BOOM!!!
The earth-shaking roar sent a massive dust pillar skyward.
"Gah!"
Students hit the dirt; even Serina staggered. An energy release worlds beyond black gunpowder. As wind cleared the dust, jaws dropped.
"No... way..."
The unbreakable granite was shattered. No mages, no picks—just three little sticks moved a mountain.
The students' eyes had changed.
"C-Can we do that if we learn it?"
"Which page in the textbook?!"
The dull lesson now looked like a path to power. With this tech, no more headbutting rocks barehanded.
I turned to them with a satisfied smile. "Chapter 3: Chemical Reactions and Energy. But first, gotta read to learn, right?"
"We'll study! Letters first—right now!"
Explosive reaction. To them, studying wasn't drudgery anymore—it was magic to shatter mountains and change the world.
But Serina couldn't just smile.
"Milord... this stuff..."
"Yeah?"
"The shells we fired from the walls during the orc purge, right?"
Sharp mage. She remembered this substance's true nature: a weapon.
How orc flesh tore when we rained it on the horde.
"Finally caught on?"
"I thought it was just for killing... but seeing this, it's a tool to advance the world."
Serina gazed at the blasted pit with a complex expression. Tech that killed could also aid and transform.
Staring at the lingering dust, I murmured low.
"Science is value-neutral in itself."
"...Pardon?"
"The user's intent decides its value."
Serina's eyes widened. Philosophical words hard to credit from this eccentric lord.
"This explosive doesn't care good or evil. Doesn't distinguish a kind miner from an invading orc. It just follows physics and blows."
"..."
"That's why it's scary. In the right hands, a hammer to break rock. In the wrong, a tool of slaughter."
My eyes gleamed cold. "We teach this power to defend our loved ones with this torch when threats come again."
Serina swallowed hard.
Knowledge is power. A dangerous flame that illuminates the world, yet a brilliant torch.
She steadied her swelling emotions with a long sigh. "You say it so... coolly. But..."
Heart still pounding, she clutched her chest and glared.
"No more dangerous demos. We would've died if it blew while mixing!"
At her earnest grievance, I whispered mischievously in her ear.
"Don't worry, Dean. It wouldn't blow."
"What? Nitroglycerin's unstable at the slightest shock..."
"That wasn't nitroglycerin."
"...Pardon?"
"Just olive oil from the kitchen."
"..."
Serina's pupils lost focus, shaking.
"Crazy? Carry real nitroglycerin in a glass bottle for you to shake? I ain't dying yet. The ones we blew were real; what we mixed was just dirt dough."
"..."
"Fun, right? Gotta make it real for focus."
Serina's face flushed red then purple. Relief, betrayal, murder—all at once.
"You... you... demonic bastard...!"
"Tsk, Dean. Mind your dignity."
Her fists trembled, but the milk was spilled. She alternated glares between the clear blue sky and my smug face. Clenching and unclenching her fists repeatedly. Was punching this face lese-majeste against her lord, or righteous correction of rotten character? She pondered gravely.