Doggone Academy

Sion was arguing with an old man who had laid out a mat to sit on.

Just a moment’s inattention and she’s latched on to someone difficult. I can well imagine the tribulations her mentor must face.

We’re out to enjoy ourselves, can’t we just have a good time without making a scene? There’s no need to get worked up.

I quickly approached and intervened between the two.

“What’s going on?”

Sion, clenching her fist, just glowered at the old man without offering me any real explanation.

The elder, recognizing me as part of her group, chuckled in resignation and spoke up.

“Lad, I gave her a light bit of advice based on her remarkable fortune, and she flew off the handle. Tsk, tsk.”

“…What advice was that?”

One doesn’t expect much from a street fortune teller. It’s a problem when people utter nonsense, but another when you pick up every word thrown your way and pocket it as if it’s yours.

“He said that she would do better if she distanced herself from her master.”

I turned to Sion.

“Did you pay him to tell your fortune?”

“No, I don’t believe in that sort of thing.”

“Then… We’ll take our leave now. My apologies for the disturbance, elder.”

I was ready to brush it off since no money had exchanged hands, but Sion persisted.

“No, I want to know what basis he had for such ludicrous claims.”

“…”

“If you don’t give me a straight answer, there will be consequences.”

The old man stroked his beard with an incredulous laugh. His hair was sparse, like weeds on a barren field, and one of his eyes was white as if blind. His limbs were as thin as that of an ascetic monk on a hunger strike.

His appearance was undeniably that of a homeless man. Here, it looked like Sion was troubling someone less fortunate.

Slapping his palm against the mat, the elder spoke up.

“Nay, you have to pay up for that! Thinking you can freeload fortune-telling from me, eh? What, am I supposed to starve?”

Sure, it’s naturally upsetting to hear that distancing yourself from a Swordmaster mentor would lead to better outcomes… But it’s a common sales tactic, isn’t it? Why take the bait so easily?

“Elder, how long have you been fortune-telling?”

“I’ve made my living off this trade here in Rigved’s square for thirty years. I’m not like those con artists claiming to be prophets. I tell the bad fortunes as they are, without sugar-coating. So, I may not have made much money, but I’ve earned a reputation. Ask the shop owners around here, they’ll recognize me.”

It feels like I’m listening to a drunkard lamenting his life.

“I see. Could you tell me on what you base your fortunes?”

“Constellations. It’s always the constellations. I was once a priest at the Altar of Stars. Human fates are moved by the power of stars. Cards, bones, drawings, dice, all lies spun by swindlers.”

Sion challenged his credentials.

“Nonsense. There’s no such place as the Altar of Stars.”

I myself had never heard of such a place. Sure, it might exist somewhere, but it didn’t sound all that impressive.

But really, it’s a waste of energy to scrutinize the credentials of a street fortune teller.

“How much do you charge to read a fortune?”

“Used to be one silver coin, but for today it’s a special price, just five copper coins.”

Not even gold, and that’s practically the price of three or four potatoes—not a bad deal.

I reached into my pocket, fumbling for money. Sion regarded this with disapproval.

“Why would you invest money in nonsense?”

“I’m curious. Why’d you say what you did?”

“Raised in luxury, so you don’t know the value of money, I see.”

“Aren’t you curious too? Sit down.”

“No, I’m not. I was just suspicious of how he knew about my master.”

Naturally. Being an Eternia student, he probably took a stab in the dark.

I crouched before the old man, but Sion, too proud to relent, stood with her arms folded.

With no chance to hear a reading from Galliar, the Prophet of Earth who had stirred up Rigved with his astrology, my impromptu plan went bust, and I wasn’t much bothered. Hearing from a skilled fortune teller isn’t necessarily a good thing—what if the news was bad? There’s nothing more unpleasant than that.

There’s a silver lining to shams. If the fortune’s good, I can leave feeling cheerful. If it’s bad, just brush it off as a swindler’s talk.

I put the five copper coins on the mat and added one more, saying to the man,

“Could you tell us the story that my friend here is curious about? Please, only good stories, elder.”

“Ha! That friend of yours – patient and smart, the total opposite of you – found themselves a partner fiery and impatient.”

I quickly corrected him.

“We’re not in that kind of relationship.”

Sion gritted her teeth. Is the old coot doing this to get a rise out of her?

The unabashed confidence with which he spat out his wrong answer left me secretly amused.

“Whether that’s true or not, what’s your friend’s birthday?”

I glanced up at Sion.

Out of pride or caution, Sion refused to speak, standing firm.

The fortune teller lamented.

“Tsk, how will you ever aspire to great things with such a closed heart?”

“Let’s get this over with.”

Reluctantly, she spoke up.

“…July 7th.”

“Is what it is.”

“Let’s have a look-see. Mmm-hmm.”

The fortune teller shifted a sizable glass jar from behind him, half-filled with water.

He scooped up a handful of pebbles etched with runes and tossed them into the jar.

“Akra, Maha Subakum.”

As he recited what seemed like a hastily made-up spell, a few of the sunken pebbles rose to the surface. Then, two stones stuck together at the center of the jar, spinning around on the water’s surface.

“Look here. Your friend’s master is a grand star. Grand stars exert a strong pull, attracting everything around them. You’re a little star, drawn into orbit around that force.”

“…”

“But you have the fate to become as grand as your master. Tiny stars maintain balance due to their weak gravitation, but when two grand stars come close, the celestial order falls apart, and they’re bound to collide. What’ll happen then? Everything smashed to pieces, leaving nothing but dust and smoke. That’s the main reason you need to leave your master’s side.”

Had Sion mentioned her Swordmaster first? The fortune sounded plausible enough.

Sion denied the reading.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Even if not now, the time will come when you must.”

She still looked dubious. I could understand that. If someone told me I had to leave Silveryn, I’d be terribly upset.

Sion is the renowned top student in all of Eternia, so the fortune could be spun from rumors. You can’t blindly trust it. Take it for amusement’s sake and leave it at that.

The old man didn’t stop there; he started marketing to me.

“Ah, shouldn’t you have a reading too? If one of a couple comes and only one gets a reading, the luck shifts to just one side.”

“We’re not a couple. And I’m fine, thank you.”

I stood up, dusting myself off.

“Oh, come on. Have a reading, will you?”

He extended three fingers in a showy gesture.

“You, I’ll read for three coins. It’s practically on the house.”

“I’m quite content with life as it is.”

But then he raised his voice suddenly, reaching out to grab me.

“Hey! No, forget two, forget one! I’ll just do it for free. Sit down, quickly!”

“…You don’t need to bother.”

“I’m the one who’s curious, sit down, I’ll just do it for free.”

Why is he doing this all of a sudden? Offering a free reading out of nowhere—it’s too suspicious.

Maybe it’s understandable for Sion due to her fame, but why me?

I quickly checked if my mask was in place by feeling my face. Being masked, there’s no connection to Silveryn.

Perhaps it’s another sales tactic. Pretending to be duped, I took a seat again.

“Your birthday, if you please.”

“Is that necessary?”

“It’s helpful to know.”

I hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“…December 1st.”

“Let’s see…”

The fortune teller lifted all the pebbles out of the jar, cleared the water, waited for it to settle, and threw the stones in again.

They sank like any ordinary pebbles, lifelessly hitting the bottom.

“…Strange. Something’s off. Are you sure that’s your real birthday? You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you?”

“You didn’t recite the spell.”

“The spell doesn’t matter, you brat! Daring to test me like this!”

“The truth is, it’s August 4th.”

“Well then, let me have a look…”

Once more he cast the stones, but like before, they lifelessly sank to the bottom.

“Oh, dear…”

He didn’t scold me for lying. Instead, the street soothsayer astutely touched on the truth.

“That’s not it either. You… were an orphan, weren’t you?”

Suddenly, my heart felt as if weighted down.

I fell silent for a moment.

Without countering, I maintained my silence, and Sion, standing beside me, widened her eyes in surprise, as if asking if that was true.

Why wouldn’t I have a birthday? Anyone born upon this earth has one. However, orphans with no knowledge of their parents would have no way of knowing theirs.

Even if they knew, how could orphans celebrate the day their life began?

Thus, for those of us raised at the Acates Temple, birthdays did not exist. It was the same for me. I erased it from my mind, never celebrated it.

We only gathered together on the day we were baptized, offering prayers to the goddess Acates. That was our birthday.

I didn’t expect the soothsayer to hit on the mark. Had I invented a birthday, he’d have provided a suitably tailored response.

His tone shifted in an instant from that of a belligerent drunkard to a solemn high priest.

“It’s alright not to know your birthday. Instead, you must cast the stones yourself.”

He fished the pebbles from the jar and handed them to me. They felt surprisingly heavy, like chunks of iron.

“…Do I throw them into the jar?”

“Give it a try.”

I tossed the stones into the jar.

Unlike before, the stones did not sink but floated in the water, each at a fixed point as if forming constellations.

The old man’s brow furrowed deeply.

Sion, previously standing upright, sank into a crouch beside me, her curiosity piqued.

Gazing silently at the jar, he finally spoke.

“I cannot see your fate.”

“Do you need to know my birthday?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just can’t see it. Some parts of the divine will can’t be understood by humans.”

“Then what does this mean?”

What could it mean with the stones floating aimlessly in the jar?

The old man looked down into the jar with a vacant gaze. His eyes weren’t fixed on the stones but rather seemed to be watching something invisible.

“This represents your past. The constellations of the living foretell the future, while those of the dead recount the past. You’re much like someone who’s passed away.”

“….”

The wrinkles on his forehead deepened. He was silent for a while before speaking up.

“There is painful history in your life. You’ve lost something precious, as vital as life itself. Therefore…”

“I don’t need to listen.”

I reached into the jar to disturb the floating pebbles. Yet the elder continued unabated.

“You live in the past. Your heart is filled with rage at not being able to protect anything.”

“Enough. I don’t want to hear this.”

“No, you really must listen to this.”

My hand moved toward my wooden sword, prepared to silence him by force if needed.

Before I could draw my weapon, Sion grabbed my arm, halting me. She sensed my dangerous mood. I looked into her eyes, widened as if reflecting the full moon.

Sion was the one calming me down, a reversal since I had come to soothe her.

The old man resumed.

“You’ll keep fighting. If only to grasp at mirages, to protect the ghosts of the past. It is your curse and your beacon. A lone guide flaming brightly in the emptiness of your fate.”

“…”

The surroundings fell eerily silent. Actually, the square was bustling, but I couldn’t perceive any of it as noise.

My mind was in a vacuum.