SMMA 45

Episode 45

The mindset of a true professional thief was on a level wholly different from ordinary people.
To be bold enough to pick locks and loot goods while the Headmaster and professors were still on the scene investigating—that was proof enough.

Within the glass flasks shimmered potions of every conceivable hue. Ihan could feel from them a dense tangle of magical energies radiating outward.

“But… what kind of potions are these?”

“I do not know.”

“…R-right.”

Of course. Ratford was a professional thief, not a professional alchemist. He had simply grabbed whatever seemed valuable, without even knowing what he had in hand.

I don’t recognize them either.

Ihan had read many books of theory while growing up at House Wadanaz, and prided himself on advance study, but even he could not identify unmarked potions simply by looking at the liquid.

“Yonellia, do you recognize any?”

“This one…”

Yonellia picked up a flask and studied it carefully.

“Tastes like wine.”

“That’s absurd.”

“No, truly—it smells like grape wine.”

She pulled the cork cautiously, sniffed, and gave a nod.
“Yes. It’s wine.”

“……”

“But the rest really are magical potions. We’d need the library to know exactly what they are, though.”

“At least there’s that.”

Ratford was not shocked in the slightest that heirs of House Wadanaz and House Meikin sat around casually discussing how to use stolen potions.
For him, questioning the judgment of those above you was unthinkable.

He even accepts stolen potions for use—truly, a man of wide capacity.

“Thank you, Ratford. I’ll put them to good use.”

“It is an honor to offer them. Please call me whenever you have need.”

“Don’t be so stiff… hey. Want to help tend the horses?”

Since they had come so early to the stables, Ihan thought it would help Ratford bond with the animals.

Ratford lowered his head.
“Yes. It is an honor.”

“Enough with the ‘honors.’”

“Glory…”

“Stop that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thump—

“?”

A clatter came from behind. Ihan turned.

Nillia stood stock still, eyes wide with shock.

“You’ve… made a new friend…?”

With a look of betrayal, she began backing away. Startled, Ihan and Yonellia rushed toward her.

“So that’s what it was? You could’ve said. Did you really think I’d misunderstand something like that?”

“……”
“……”

Ihan and Yonellia exchanged looks.

Weren’t you literally about to misunderstand just now?
She definitely was.

Thankfully, Nillia’s absurd suspicion—that Ihan had replaced her with a new Black Turtle Tower friend—was dispelled.

Ratford spoke in all seriousness.
“I am not a friend, but a loyal sub—mmph!”

“Oops. My hand slipped.”

Ihan shoved the grooming brush against Ratford’s mouth.

“Come on. Let’s just tend the horses.”

Inside the stable were a few other students, struggling to befriend their own beasts. Professor Thunderstep had assigned the task, and though he claimed many would try, in truth students earnest enough to wake at dawn were few.

And the horses were merciless even toward the diligent.

“Stop spitting on me already!”
“Won’t you just listen for once! What’s your problem!?”

Biting, butting, spitting—they resisted every hand.

Ihan was not surprised.
“No test subject is ever docile by nature.”

Though rough, these animals were hardly unbearable. At least none were trying to bolt or fling dung.

“Alright. Let’s brush your coat.”

The white horse Professor Thunderstep had assigned glared dangerously at Ihan. Its intention was written plain—strike him the moment he came near.

Yet Ihan stepped forward boldly.

Whish!

The horse lunged a headbutt. Ihan tilted smoothly away, dodging as if he’d seen it coming.

The horse’s eyes went wide—as though in disbelief he had evaded it.

Splat!

It spat at him. Ihan slipped aside again, calm as if to say, “Of course.”

“There, there. Good boy.”

Clash!

The horse snapped its jaws, trying to bite. Ihan only brushed closer from the side.

Frustrated, it tried every antic possible—snapping, butting, spitting. Only its bound legs spared Ihan from kicks.

Yet Ihan endured, brushing off blows with patience.

Nillia, watching, could not help but admire.
“How can he be so calm…?”

She herself would have been cursing, whip in hand. But Ihan simply soothed: “There, there,” gently, unwavering. Was this the dignity of high nobility?

Snort…

At last, the white horse drooped its head, exhausted.

Only then did Ihan take brush to coat. The beast still glared, promising rebellion once its strength returned.

“…Is this really a horse? Surely some monster’s blood runs through it.”

Puzzled by its viciousness, Ihan compared it to the calmer behavior of other steeds.

Clatter!

“Done!”

Yonellia emerged from her own struggle, plastered with mud but smiling victoriously. Nillia and Ratford too were disheveled but relieved.

“At least they’re listening now.”
“I think I got close to mine.”

Ihan glanced at his own horse. The white brute snapped its head away in refusal.

A lesser student might have fumed or despaired at its perpetual defiance.

It will give in one day, Ihan thought, serene as a lake.

Compared to professors, what was a horse?

Finishing the brush, he laid feed mixed with grain before it. The horse munched, glaring as though to say: Don’t think this changes anything.

“I plan to take it out walking,” Nillia said, brushing mud away.

Walks were essential in horse-tending. To keep them healthy, to bond closer. Any animal softened with time spent together.

But this one… Ihan doubted. Outdoors, with space to rage, would it not try every new attack?

“Hm…”

He looked at the iron mana-draining bracelet, then the mana-draining belt at his waist. Slowly, his gaze rose back to the horse.

The beast shivered, some primal warning in its eyes.

“I’m back!”

“……”

Boltstride* entered, smiling broadly, clutching a tin cup. The other dwarfish professor, Thunderstep, was already within the hut, brewing tea.

(*Footnote: Boltstride and Thunderstep are dwarf professors with names evoking speed and thunder. Their lessons often emphasize stamina, toughness, and training.)

“Brew the tea!” yelled Boltstride.

“But you do not even like the way I brew…”

“I will drink it anyway! Don’t worry!”

“……”

Heavy-hearted, Thunderstep boiled water. Without Ihan there, the room felt emptier.

“The freshmen are working hard in the stables,” Boltstride said, gulping tea with delight.

Alchemical care, beast mastery—both demanded the same thing: perseverance.

That was why he had deliberately assigned the foulest-tempered horses in the <Basic Mount Training> class. Not to break them, but to teach patience.

With effort and affection, the beasts would yield. If instead students turned to whip and spur, they would find only harsh punishment awaiting.

“Those who cheat will learn pain. Those who care, nature will reward. Ha-ha-ha!”

Thunderstep sighed, shaking his head. You enjoy tormenting students far too much.

He had no idea Ihan thought him and Boltstride alike.

“Wadanaz boy—is he managing?”

“Oh, fine. He’s diligent. The griffon may be tricky, but with patience and wit—and some luck—he’ll win it over.”

“?”

Thunderstep froze.

“What did you just say?”

“What?”

“You said… griffon.”

“You misheard. I said horse.”

“……”

Terror crossed Thunderstep’s face. Did Boltstride transform a griffon into a horse?!

“No, right?”

“What?”

“……”

Calm. Maybe it’s just named Griffon.

Yet the truth: a griffon—head and wings of eagle, claws and haunches of lion. Arrogant, brutal, choosy about masters.
No beginner could ever tame one.

“What’s its name?”

“Gr…phonrig.”

“Are you insane—?!”

Finally Thunderstep lost his temper. His apprentice already rested from injury for the day, and here Boltstride saddled another with a griffon?

They erupted in typical dwarfish brawling—cups shattering, tables flipped, chairs broken.

Snrrrk…

Ihan smiled warmly at his beast.

Now the once-vicious white horse stood docile, subdued.

He had solved it his own way: strapping on both his mana-draining bracelet and belt upon the horse.

“As expected. Drain its mana, and it calms.”

Every living creature bore mana. When siphoned, its strength waned. Now that both relics drained it dry, the horse lacked even will to resist.

“We’ll get along from now on.”

Snrrrrt…

The horse meekly followed his rein.

Yet one thought struck him:
“If even with both items it still stands, its mana must be tremendous. Perhaps the drains are weaker than I thought… or else this beast carries more mana than most monsters.”

Pondering, he walked it on.

Ahead, other youths cried, thrown by their mounts.

“Get off! Get me down! Please! I give up!”

Ihan only mused further.
“Perhaps I can find a way to increase the drain capacity…”

So went another ordinary morning in the magical academy.