More harm than good

Liam was in a hurry to get back to his business, so Cal walked him out for a while, then went to the dormitories to find Grady.

As he approached her dormitory, he froze for a moment and then moved to the window, where he was out of sight behind a tall clump of long-unmowed bushes. He lurched to eavesdrop on the conversation inside the room.

"I didn't say much," Grady excused herself.

"But you said we were to be married at the Dragon Parade and it was forbidden, isn't that suspicious?" He was pressing his point.

"That's nothing, you're exaggerating. Leon hasn't been at the Academy for a long time, he might not have known."

"He's very close to the Head. If he learns of our plan, so does the Head," the man did not calm down.

"Okay, don't flicker, I'm tired of your panic," Grady asked.

"You didn't say anything else to him, did you?"

"No."

Michal stopped and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. There was silence in the room for a while.

"Are the invitations ready?" he asked.

"Yes, they're all here," Grady patted the box.

"Whose idea was it to have the parade in secret anyway?" Michal asked playfully.

"Of course, it was your idea," replied Grady, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm a genius," said Michal.

"I have to go now," Grady stood up, gave him a peck on the cheek, and left the room with the box in her hands.

Cal sat on the ground for a while longer, pondering what he had just heard. His first urge was to tell Liam about everything, to avoid a scandal. But then something like a voice of conscience stopped Cal. He felt guilty for overhearing someone else's secret.

But at the same time, he worried that their audacious scheme might end badly. In the end, he was faced with a dilemma: betray the Head and ruin the wedding, or remain silent and let Liam down.

Cal staggered down the road, pondering what he should do. Apparently, he wasn't going to get an invitation, since there was so much mystery surrounding the event. Sitting down on a warm stone bench, Cal wanted to talk to someone, but he didn't know who. And then he remembered one person. As he touched the crystal, he heard a familiar voice.

"No way, Cal, is that really you?" said Pittsu ironically.

"Did you miss me?" Cal asked.

"No, I've forgotten what you look like already," the marshal lied shamelessly because he was just now drinking his tea and looking at Cal's portrait.

"You can listen to me, I don't know what decision to make," Cal said confusedly.

"I'm listening," the marshal sipped his fragrant vitamin tea and closed his eyes.

"Anyway, I found out somebody else's secret..."

"Hmm, curious..."

"This secret may be a problem for Liam... But if I tell, I'll ruin their "happily ever after".

"Well, I don't understand anything yet," the marshal stretched out lazily, "what does this have to do with Liam?"

"These people are up to something, it's forbidden in the Academy. But maybe it won't hurt anyone, and maybe it won't, I don't know."

"In that case, find out more about what they're up to and then you'll know what to do."

"Yeah, I'll have to," Cal agreed, then added, "don't burn a hole in the canvas."

"Kha-ha," choked the marshal, "my canvas, I do what I want!"

Cal laughed, but the marshal couldn't hear him, and Cal was in a better mood. He said the last phrase at random, provoking Pittsu, and suddenly hit the mark.

In part, he was pleased that the grand marshal was pining for him, even if not openly. It gave the man a certain power over him, and certainly, he wasn't afraid of him at all, not like the general.

Suddenly a bright flash pierced Cal's mind, and he fell unconscious.

...The sun was high at the zenith, and he wandered wearily down the empty road. His parched lips barely moved in a silent whisper. His heart was still clutching with pain: he had learned of the death of his dear friend and could not bury him. Applying to the general for a leave of absence, he was refused, no matter how hard he asked.

He went AWOL but was late anyway, and now returning, was punished with an order to wander in the desert for three days. His sentence was coming to an end, and he returned to the base, where he was immediately handcuffed and thrown into a solitary confinement cell. A déjà vu overtook him: he had seen those damp walls and the low ceiling...

Cal was lying down beside a low stone bench, breathing heavily. His eyes were wide open, but he could see nothing. The doctor, called by the frightened people who had found Cal, came to him.

From somewhere on the side of the practice field, Liam came rushing in. Cal was lying on the ground, surrounded by people who were quietly discussing the situation.

The healer ordered Cal to be taken to his office and suggested that his condition was caused by nervous shock. Liam paled when he saw Cal's gray, sweat-covered face.

He seemed to be in acute pain. Liam wiped his forehead with his sleeve and went with the healer and the two students who carried the stretcher.

The healer tried various ways to bring Cal back to consciousness but ended up backing off and heading to the library to check his hunches with books.

Liam remained sitting with Cal, dabbing his forehead with a damp cloth. He checked his pulse every five minutes and found himself uneasy.

After an hour, Cal blinked and slowly sat up on the bed. He was disoriented. His wandering gaze stopped on the Head's, anxious face. As if not recognizing him, Cal shifted his gaze to the walls and then looked at his hands. He squeezed them and said:

"I didn't make it in time..." his shoulders shook.

"What didn't you have time for?" Liam asked cautiously.

"He died and was buried, and I couldn't see him off to his last journey... He was my only friend in this world..." Cal began to cry and Liam became confused.

"What is this strange obsession he has?" Liam gently took Cal's trembling hand. The man did not resist. Then anger twisted his face, and he jumped up and shouted:

"I'll kill you, Tishow!"

Liam immediately put his hand over his mouth.

Cal hung on Liam exhaustedly after his furious prank. He gently tucked him back into bed and thought deeply about what had happened. When the healer returned, Liam left the two of them alone and also went to the library with the intention of re-reading everything known about the Transfer technique.

Meanwhile, the Academy was quickly filled with rumors about what had happened to the apprentice, and the topic was widely discussed everywhere.

Liam sat in the library and studied the scrolls thoughtfully. He made notes to himself, but so far he had not been able to find anything worthwhile.

The Technique Transfer was the ancient technique of drying out the soul. One person transferred everything they had accumulated, including their memory and skills, to another. It sort of "nullified" his soul, and he could be reborn as a very peaceful and happy person in the future.

Liam chuckled, it wasn't clear who had done who favor to whom. It was more likely that the captain had created serious trouble for Cal, without meaning to.

The head was looking for a way to rid his apprentice of the obsessions. He searched everywhere, but never found the answer.

There was still one other person who might have possessed the information. Liam did not contact him but went straight to visit his old friend, the Twelfth.

In the darkened room that served as both library, study, and sitting room, the Elder poured fragrant herbal tea for Liam. When the ceremonies were over, the Head told him what had happened.

The Elder frowned, for he had always been an opponent of such ambiguous techniques. Their consequences might have been worse than the benefits.

After finishing his tea, the Twelfth strode thoughtfully to the shelves of books. He had to spend some time trying to remember where he had seen records of this kind.

At last, his memory jogged and he reached for the third shelf. Retrieving a dusty folio, he carefully carried it to the table and opened it just as gently, flipping through the pages.

It was nothing more than an old herbalist's guidebook of the famous Elder of the past. A couple of hundred years had passed since its creation and much of the knowledge was outdated, so Twelfth kept the book only as a rarity, of little scientific value.

However, the author of the folio was at one time seriously concerned with the question of Transfer. The abstract did not mention exactly how this scientist was involved with the technique, but Twelfth could recall seeing an entire section in his handbook devoted to combating the negative effects of the technique.

When he reached the right page, he carefully read the text and at the same time began to sound out suggestions for Liam.

"One of the consequences of Transfer can be considered an insidious confusion of memories, which causes loss of orientation and connection with reality. Often accompanied by a blurring of the mind or a loss of consciousness altogether. Did you observe this in your student?" Twelfth asked after the quote.

"Yes, he was delirious and unconscious."

"And how was he delirious? Did he see pictures of another life?" The Elder was curious.

"He thought he was a different person," Liam lamented.

The Elder sighed and continued reading.

"The process of adjusting a person to the experiences and memories passed on to him can take from one to three years. To alleviate his condition, I recommend using herbs to calm the mind. The method of reception and herbs are described in the following sections," read the Twelfth.

"Not much," Liam grimaced, wrapping his arms around himself to calm himself.

"I'll rewrite the herbs and applications for you."

While the Elder fulfilled his promise, Liam was tormented by inaction. He tried to sit quietly and not distract the man from his task, but he was very anxious at heart.

The head began to count the books on the shelves, then counted the red, blue, and white separately. Then he opened the kettle and sniffed to identify the herbs by their scent, when nothing came out, he peeked and still could not recognize them.

The time dragged on endlessly for one who was tormented by mortal anxiety for the other. Nearly two hours passed when the Elder finally set about rewriting the last page. It seemed to be a regular thing for him. Suddenly he looked closer and leaned lower.

For the first time, the Elder noticed a mark made by the author's own hand, and this finding surprised him immensely. He carefully smoothed out the page and, taking a magnifying glass, tried to read the long frayed note.

"...In some cases, the damage from the Transfer was so great that it took a way to reverse the process. Can you imagine, Liam?" The Elder said, surprised, and continued reading the record.

"A way had been found, but it did not work well on those who had suffered a Transfer more than three months ago. The less time elapsed, the more effective the method and the better the chances of success. But how do you know if the Transfer was successful or not? It takes time to know if it's good or bad," the man said.

"There is a plant which, when dried, must be burnt slowly and its smoke must be inhaled by the person over whom they wish to cancel the Transfer," the Twelfth man finished reading and rubbed his temples.

The name of the flower was written next, but the Elder could not remember it. He stood up and looked up the plant in later reference books--nothing. "How can it be that there is not a word about this weed anywhere?" Elder asked himself.

After thinking for a while, he decided to ask the Seventh Elder for help. Moving into her space with Liam, they walked through a beautiful green field where all sorts of medicinal herbs were slenderly growing.