Not Professor Thales

'The Art of Water – Mashurmastra – is not simply about learning to fight with it. It is also about contemplating what we see, to have courage to look beyond what appears ordinary, to find a rhythm behind the movements of the world, just as FOUNDER MANASURA once did.'

That is what Professor Thales had told him, and the more Elwin thought about it, the more he grew fond of the professor's sagacity. There was so much wisdom he could glean from the professor's tales; to be able to get to the bottom of the well, and pull from it a bucket of the most refreshing secrets about anything he wanted to know. No other professor of the Arts could give him the ability to do that, he reasoned.

Above that, Elwin's Maht was Water. What better person to have as a Tanaar than the Master of the Waters himself?

Yet in the corner of his mind, the question remained as to who Professor Thales really was. From serving customers at The Marlin, Elwin developed a keen eye for reading people, and with almost a single glance could see what a person was like. It was not hard to determine whether that customer would cause trouble, or this would tip well if entertained, and the ability gave Elwin a good degree of certainty about the immediate future. 

But Professor Thales was one person he could not read at all, and it frightened him. It was an altogether different quality from Headmaster Abraxas, who was also impossible to read, but that was because he actively arrested any attempts with an equal measure of power like back at the entrance ceremony. The headmaster's resistance to others attempting to read him told Elwin something tangible: it meant that he didn't like being read by others, and only opened up to those he found worthy of entrusting concomitant responsibility; those who would explicitly need his insights and knowledge. 

Looking at Professor Thales, on the other hand, was like peering into the bottom of the deep, dark ocean, where even the Sun itself couldn't pierce, and for all Elwin knew could be full of eldritch horrors. No, it wasn't that – if Elwin knew there could be such monstrous secrets, he wouldn't be as frightened, because he could expect them. Every time Elwin looked at Professor Thales and his eyes, a glimmer of inviting ocean waves would welcome him, and that was all regular people would see – but when Elwin tried to push past those waves, there was no resistance, no information, nothing at all to tell Elwin what Professor Thales was really like, and it was this fear of the unknowable that unsettled him. He would need to find out his past before he took the Master of the Waters as his Tanaar.

"Seriously, I'm telling you, just ask Professor Thales directly," Katherine rolled her eyes. "What could go wrong, anyway? It's no big deal. It's not like we're forbidden to even ask."

Isaac and Mirai followed behind them, chatting up some of the day's events, hushing as they crossed into the Library bounds. With a quiet whisper to the Bibliothecarius of Aeternitas, Elwin pitched his inquiry.

"The Master of the Waters?" The Bibliothecarius repeated, juggling dozens of books into their metal racks with his Quan, his eye barely on Elwin. "What do you wish to know?"

"I want to know what he used to do before he came to Aeternitas."

"Oh, that's simple enough."

Elwin raised his eyebrow.

"He used to be the Director at the Ministry of Order back in the day. He didn't tell you?" The Bibliothecarius answered casually, motioning the Quan on his wrist to put away a metal-laced bookshelf with a mountain of volumes.

Elwin's head suddenly swam as if swung by a bat. He shook it a little.

"What's wrong?" asked Katherine and Mirai, sensing his change.

"...It's nothing at all but... are you sure?" Elwin asked the Bibliothecarius again, wishing he'd misheard.

"As sure as water is wet and grass is green. Can't be a Bibliothecarius without knowing a thing or two, can I?" he continued, focused more on organizing the shelves than at Elwin.

"The Ministry of Order as in the enforcers on our streets?"

"What else would it be? Unless you're from Utopia, with your own peacekeepers?"

Elwin's stomach lurched with revulsion.

Memories of that day in Cita de Lumière surfaced into his recollection; Elwin abandoning his exam to chase the thief who stole the medicine for Isaac's father, discovering the thief was really a boy younger than he, the enforcer from the Ministry of Order and his strong, disturbing cologne, his shadow-shrouded eyes, an ice baton and metal chain in his hand.

The penalty for thievery in the Republics is a beating or hard labor, even for children, the enforcer had declared back then.

The palpable fear, confusion, and anger from that sentence rushed into his psyche, and he found himself breathing heavily.

What cruelty. What injustice! Instead of providing shelter and safety for hungry children, the hand of the law wanted them beaten and hurt. How could anyone call such laws fair? How did they even have the humanity to enforce such a thing?

And in his mind, Elwin saw thousands and thousands of such enforcers standing shoulder to shoulder, line to line, and before them cowering children and the dispossessed. He saw Toto – the boy he helped – among them, and himself, and tens of thousands of other children, starving, skeletal, famished. At the back and in the sky masterminding it all was Professor Thales, yes, the Master of the Waters, Director of that Ministry of Order, using his knowledge as scythes to dispose the unwanted.

Revulsion churned to disgust, disgust to anger, and anger to dismay.

So this is the reason why Elwin wasn't able to read Professor Thales! For all the tales he preached of water and its principles, there was no humanity behind his deep eyes of blue. How could any person with heart condone such laws and enforcers to exist? More than that – and this thought made Elwin clench his knuckles so tight they went white – he lied to Elwin, and to all the students in the class. He wrapped his tales with a veneer of goodness and cool curio to charm them into thinking the wisdom of water was wholly good. All of his messages to pierce untruth and use instinct – what were they for, if they served no goodness?

Elwin looked at both of his hands, and felt ashamed that his Maht was Water. He wished not to be associated with such people. If Elwin had chosen him to be his Tanaar, he surely would've become like him, and slowly turned to the evil he witnessed at the capital city to maintain their so-called 'order'. But all the sacrifices that the Ministry of Order had made on their part, how many of their own they'd lost, and how they upheld the tenuous peace of the Republics even through their own blood and sacrifice, was lost completely to Elwin. He simply did not know as of yet what enemies they courageously fought nor the heroic deeds of their brave enforcers which were condemned to be unsung.

Elwin looked to Isaac and saw on his face an expression of disappointment as deep as his; Mirai looked to the floor and away, and Katherine, a glean of puzzlement. He looked ahead at last.

"I'm afraid I can't choose Professor Thales to be my Tanaar," he announced to his friends.

The Bibliothecarius looked up, curious.

But if not Professor Thales, then who?

***

"Relax your nerves. You still have a week to figure it all out," said Katherine, attempting to brush away the gloominess on Elwin's expression to miniscule success.

It was barely three days after the beginning of their fall semester, but whispers were already sweeping through the corridors that a majority of them have settled on their Tanaars. Elwin was very often the odd one out before he came to Aeternitas – he was never as fast as his friends, nor as physically blessed, nor strong enough to win contests. Fitting in was not easy everywhere else, and fitting in at Aeternitas was no exception.

"That's kind of easy for you to say," replied Elwin, sighing just a little. It was an enormous challenge to be so certain of one's future like his kismets.

"Well, obviously, but the point is I'm trying to cheer you up. Come on, we have Professor Aionia's class ahead of us. I wonder if she's as scary as Professor Helen," remarked Katherine, conjuring the image of the Master of Ceremonies afloat in the air back at the Dining Hall on the first day.

"No one can be as terrifying as Professor Helen," retorted Isaac, shaking his head. Mirai laughed a little.

Together, they rounded the corner of the corridor into the hall reserved for Experimental Philosophy.

It was a hall different in spirit from the rest of their classes, and the first thing they noticed was how brightly-lit it was; not by braziers of fire or by antaric lights, but by the morning sun outside, which flooded the hall with crepuscular rays. Spacious windows without panes graced ceilings from end to end; they were flanked only by silken curtains that fluttered about in the breeze. Numerous desks in a concentric semicircle radiated from the chalkboard towards the back, and there, busily preparing in her professorial suit of coffee and cape of white-gold, was Professor Aionia.

The Fradihta quietly filled the hall, taking their seats, and studiously awaited the first of announcements.

She spoke at last.

"I would like to extend my warm welcome to you for your first class," announced Professor Aionia, performing a salute followed by a gentle bow.

"Before we dive right in, I am in need of a volunteer; one familiar with Tahamastra."

Several hands shot up among the first-years, but none were faster than Katherine's. She raised hers so quickly at the first syllable of 'volunteer' that Mirai and Isaac next to her flinched; Elwin had to cover his mouth not to laugh.

Professor Aionia respectfully pointed to her with her hand.

"Miss Katherine Heriz, am I correct?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Please step forward."

It was at this moment that everyone there noticed a very large empty bowl of glass on the professor's table at the center. It was like a fish-bowl, but larger than what was familiar. Everyone leaned in to see what would happen next.

With a swift motion of her Quan, Professor Aionia whirlpooled the spacious air in the lecture hall, and out rushed a fine river of mist; she condensed it to liquid water in the glass-bowl, now almost full.

"Right here, if you may." She directed Katherine to the foot of the little staircase, so that she was standing side by side with the bowl of water, just three feet apart, with a shield of metal between them.

"Katherine, you are well-versed in fire, correct?"

"Yes ma'am. I've practiced it every day."

"Can you create a small fireball of this size?" Professor Aionia gestured her hands into a size of a small melon.

"I sure can."

"Very well. I would like you to get the fireball going between your palms; spacious enough so that you don't hurt yourself; and maintain that fireball as long as you can. You don't need to make it extra hot or powerful – just do it as you normally would."

Katherine nodded.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

"Fire away."