[Ganesha Hall]
The doors of Ganesha Hall swung open with their usual heavy creak.
Noel stepped inside, black apron tied neatly over his shirt and vest.
The apron itself wasn’t ordinary trimd with pink linings that caught the faint morning light from the windows.
His assistant, Claire, followed behind him, similarly dressed.
She carried a tray of tallic tools polished to mirror brightness.
The students were already seated at their long desks, pens ready.
But their eyes were not on the tools.
They were on the aprons.
"...Why is he wearing that?"
"Pink linings? Is this... a joke?"
"No way, the Senior Instructor?"
"Maybe it’s part of today’s lesson?"
The whispers darted around like insects.
Noel set down his satchel on the central desk and looked over the rows of students.
"I know exactly what you’re wondering."
The hall stilled.
Even the faint ticking of the gear-clock at the wall seed quieter.
"You’re asking why I’m wearing this apron in class.
Why my assistant is wearing one too."
His voice carried clearly, even without amplification.
"If you pay attention until the end of today’s lecture, you’ll know the reason.
More than that, I’ll give you good news afterward."
Murmurs rose again, curiosity igniting.
Claire set the tray down, and Noel untied the leather fastenings on a long wooden case, revealing an array of engraving tools, compass arms, and crystalline asuring rods.
He tapped the blackboard with a piece of chalk.
With practiced strokes, he wrote...
[Runic Circuitry & Glyph Engraving]
"Runic Circuitry. Glyph Engraving. Sounds daunting, doesn’t it?"
Noel began, sliding his sleeves up under the apron.
"But if you strip away the mystique, this is all it ans...
...taking a magical effect, and translating it into a language that machinery can obey."
A student raised his hand timidly.
"Instructor, does that an... it’s like writing code?"
Noel’s lips curved.
"Yes. Code, but in shapes, not letters. Where ordinary code speaks to a machine with numbers, we speak to mana with glyphs."
He drew a circle on the board, bisected it with two lines, then added smaller intersecting arcs.
The simple rune glowed faintly in chalk-dust light.
"This," Noel said.
"...is the glyph for Ignition.
It does nothing alone.
But..."
He sketched lines branching outward, forming a pattern like a circuit.
"...when you connect it to conduits of copper or mithril, it translates into heat, a spark, even sustained fire.
The difference lies in the circuitry...
...how you connect, channel, and reinforce the rune."
He gestured, and Claire unveiled three devices on the front desk.
"Runic Etching Looms.
Engraver’s Compass.
Steam-assisted Rune Presses.
You’ll be intimate with all three by the end of term.
But for today, let’s focus on the logic before the tools."
He lifted the Engraver’s Compass, its arms gleaming.
"This compass is not for circles.
It asures mana density while carving glyphs.
Without it, your lines wobble, mana flow breaks, and the rune becos a lifeless scribble."
He placed it down, then touched the Rune Press, a squat machine with gears and a steam pipe.
"The Press is for mass production.
Once a glyph sequence is tested, you don’t waste hours engraving by hand.
But..."
His eyes sharpened.
"...if you don’t understand the logic of the glyph, you’ll just mass-produce garbage.
...Or bombs."
The students laughed nervously.
Finally, he gestured at the Etching Loom, a contraption of pulleys and needles.
"The Loom is my favorite.
It weaves runes into cloth or paper, embedding magic in things flexible and living.
One mistake, and you’ll have a tapestry that bursts into flas the mont soone hangs it.
A correct weave, however, and you’ll have a cloak that resists fire itself."
He paused, letting the image sink in.
"So. Circuits, glyphs, conduits. That’s our battlefield today."
"Now, the most common mistake novices make..."
Noel continued, chalk scratching the board.
"...is believing all materials conduct mana the sa way.
They don’t."
He wrote three words.
Copper. Mithril. Obsidian.
"Copper is cheap, abundant, and flexible. It bends mana like water in a gutter...easy to channel, but it leaks if the circuits are long."
"Mithril, however..."
He tapped the board.
"...mithril is costly, yes, but it resonates with mana. It not only carries the glyph’s intent, it amplifies it. Which ans one small glyph, properly carved, can power a whole chanism."
"And then there’s Obsidian."
His chalk circled the word.
"Obsidian doesn’t conduct mana. It stores it. Think of it as a battery. Etch a glyph sequence into obsidian, and it holds the magic until triggered."
He turned, eyes sweeping the rows.
"So, if you’re clever, you’ll design circuits that mix all three.
Copper for the skeleton, mithril for the core, obsidian for reserve.
Each choice changes the outco."
A hand shot up.
"Instructor, what happens if we use the wrong material?"
"You waste hours of labor, or you blow up the lab."
Noel answered bluntly.
"Both have happened...I prefer the first."
The class chuckled, so nervously, so admiring the dry delivery.
Noel moved to the front desk.
"Claire."
"Yes, sir."
She placed a tal plate onto the stand. Copper base, mithril veins running faintly through its surface.
Noel picked up an engraving rod, angled it, and carved a sequence with swift precision.
The class leaned forward as the glyphs glowed faintly under his strokes.
"Watch closely.
This is a simple three-glyph circuit.
First-Ignition.
Second-Containnt.
Third-Release."
The glyphs connected in a neat triangular loop.
Noel snapped his fingers, and the circuit shimred.
A small fla sparked in the center of the plate, suspended in air, flickering but contained.
Gasps filled the hall.
"Now..."
Noel said calmly.
"...observe what happens if I change just one conduit."
He pressed the compass to the mithril line, scratched it out, replaced it with a line etched in copper.
The fla sputtered, grew unstable, then vanished with a hiss.
"Lesson?"
He raised a brow.
One student spoke hesitantly.
"The material matters more than the glyph alone?"
"Exactly. Glyphs are the language. Materials are the paper and ink. Both matter.
Write holy scripture with rotten ink, and you’ll end up with a stain."
"Now it’s your turn."
The hall buzzed as students bent over their plates, carefully engraving.
Sparks flew, glyphs glowed faintly, then fizzled.
So students managed tiny flas, others only smoke.
Noel paced the aisles, sharp eyes scanning. He stopped at one desk.
"Your lines are too shallow. Mana won’t cling."
The student paled.
"I—I’ll deepen them, sir."
He moved on.
"Your sequence overlaps. That glyph will devour the next. Start over."
He reached Dimitrus’ and he froze under his gaze.
"Your containnt rune is upside down. Unless you want your face scorched, flip it."
Dimitrus’ clenched his hands tight the pencil he was holding snapped.
The class grew more focused under his corrections.
Claire moved between rows, assisting where needed, her apron catching occasional flecks of chalk and copper dust.
After an hour of practice, Noel clapped once.
"Stop."
The glyphs faded, and silence returned.
"You’ve seen the basics. But the heart of Runic Circuitry isn’t the glyphs themselves. It’s the logic between them."
He sketched quickly on the board a chain of five glyphs connected in a zigzag pattern.
"This is a circuit for a lantern.
Ignition for fla, Containnt for control, Amplification for brightness, Conduction to the glass, Release as light.
If you forget Containnt..."
He struck the glyph with chalk.
"...you don’t get a lantern. You get a torch.
Burned houses and dead neighbors."
Laughter rippled nervously.
"Circuits must follow sequence. But sequences can be nested, layered and multiplied. That’s where complexity arises. And mastery."
He stepped back, chalk in hand, the board now crowded with glowing diagrams.
"Do you see now? Glyphs aren’t just scribbles. They’re logic gates.
Mana algebra.
Learn it, and you can build anything...from a stove that never cools to an airship that sails the skies."
The students’ eyes glead.
And just like that the lecture ended.
Students had filled entire notebooks with hurried scratches of glyph diagrams, so looking like they had grasped the lesson, others staring blankly as if their brains had been fried by runes.
Noel tapped the chalk against the board once, letting the noise cut through the whispers that had started.
"Alright. That’s enough for today."
Noel said, brushing his hands together.
His tone was flat but carried a weight that made every student sit straighter.
"You’ve learned the foundations of Runic Circuitry and Glyph Engraving.
Whether you sink or swim with it will depend on your own practice."
The room stayed silent, as expected. No one dared move until he dismissed them.
"Class representatives...."
Three students stiffened.
Princess Talia Veloria, calm as ever, adjusted her posture and placed her pen neatly on her desk.
Grassia fidgeted with his cuffs but tried to look composed.
Leor Dawnsen, a boy with glasses so thick they seed to magnify his nerves, looked like he wanted to vanish into his chair.
"You three."
The class reps hurried to the front.
"Yes, Professor."
Princess Talia said first, her voice calm.
’Why is she being so open today?...
She’s usually observant of ...a feeling that makes my insides churn when I lock eyes with hers...’
Noel thought inwardly to himself.
He then crossed his arms.
"Tomorrow’s class will not be held here in Ganesha Hall.
We’re moving to the East Workshop.
The equipnt for runic pressing is located there.
I’ll need the three of you to coordinate the class transfer."
Grassia swallowed.
"C-coordinate, sir?"
"Yes. That ans making sure no one is late. The Workshop has limited stations.
If your classmates dawdle, they’ll waste everyone’s ti."
Noel’s gaze sharpened.
"I don’t tolerate wasted ti."
"Understood."
Talia replied smoothly, giving a short nod.
Leor fumbled with his glasses.
"Um... excuse , Professor... will there be a seating arrangent?"
Noel looked at him.
The boy nearly collapsed under the stare.
Then Noel simply said.
"Yes. I’ll give you the list before tomorrow. Make sure they follow it exactly."
"Yes, sir!"
Leor squeaked, his ears red.
"Good. Then that’s settled."
Noel dismissed them with a slight motion of his hand.
The three reps bowed lightly and stepped aside, expecting him to leave.
But instead, Noel remained where he was.
His gaze swept over the students who were still pretending to finish packing their bags, desperate to eavesdrop.
He let the silence stretch just enough for tension to build.
And then he spoke.
"I’m sure all of you have been wondering why I was wearing this."
Noel tugged lightly on the black apron with pink linings still tied around his waist.
A ripple of whispers broke out imdiately.
"Well..."
Noel continued, his tone dry.
"The academy has its rules. One of them being that every student must belong to a club.
So of you still haven’t joined one.
You know who you are."
His eyes flicked across the room, and several students shrank in their seats.
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"So..."
Noel said.
"...if you haven’t joined one yet, you’ll have the opportunity after this."
The students straightened, unsure where this was going.
"Because..."
He began.
"...I am now overseeing a new club.
The Delights Club."
The room exploded.
"Delights...?!"
"Wait, is that... cooking?"
"No way..."
"The cold Instructor Noel is...?!"
Murmurs filled the hall, louder than they had been all sester.
A boy in the back blurted.
"Did the school run out of female professors to patron clubs?!"
Laughter erupted, but another student quickly argued.
"Idiot, that’s not how it works.
Clubs ford by instructors are based on their own initiative. Especially new ones."
"Still... a cooking club? From him?"
Soone whispered, disbelief thick in their tone.
Noel let them talk. He didn’t silence them.
When the noise finally began to taper off, he raised one hand.
The chatter cut instantly.
"There are only ten spots."
Noel said clearly, his voice carrying to the far corners of the hall.
"That’s all the academy allows for a new club.
Ten mbers.
If you’re interested, co to my table at the Grand Hall to register."
The murmurs began again, but softer this ti, like restrained excitent.
"And one more thing..."
Noel added, his expression serious.
"I don’t need tasters."
Everyone blinked.
"I’ll say it again.
I don’t need tasters.
If you think you can join the Delights Club just to enjoy free food samples, don’t bother.
If you’re going to sign up, at least have the basic knowledge of cooking."
So students laughed nervously.
Others looked thoughtful, as if reevaluating whether they even qualified.
Noel untied the apron in one smooth motion and folded it neatly over his arm.
"That is all."
With that, he turned on his heel.
Claire imdiately moved to his side, clutching the stack of notes and materials he had used during the lecture.
Her smaller fra was nearly hidden behind the pile, but she followed him without a word, her steps light and practiced.
The students watched as the cold instructor, who had just introduced sothing as absurdly ordinary as a cooking club, walked out of Ganesha Hall.
Their whispers trailed after him.
"Unbelievable..."
"Should I try joining?"
"There’s no way I’ll get in.
Ten spots only..."
"But can you imagine... learning cooking under him?"
"Forget cooking, imagine the pressure!"
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