Chapter 191: Santis Saide

Santis Saide stood nervously in front of the lord’s manor gates, repeatedly checking every button and crease on his clothes. His disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes betrayed a sleepless night—an obvious sign of his extreme anxiety.

“Act confident. Show your deep knowledge of magical theory. Answer every question promptly. Don’t cough loudly or mumble. Don’t act casually in front of the lord…”

The second-level mage muttered these points under his breath like a student cramming before an exam. Just then, the manor doors suddenly swung open, and a young girl in a maid’s uniform—barely a teenager—darted out. She sprinted across the small front yard and came to a sudden stop right in front of Santis, nearly toppling over in the process, startling him.

The little maid, Betty, glanced around quickly before locking eyes with Santis and chirped, “Have you seen anyone suspicious lurking around nearby?”

Santis, just snapped out of his muttering, blinked in confusion. “Uh? Suspicious person? No, I haven’t seen anyone…”

“Okay, thanks!” Betty gave an exaggerated bow and then turned on her heel, dashing back inside as fast as she had come, leaving the arcanist standing there dumbfounded.

It took Santis a couple of seconds to realize—was this maid looking for him?

What kind of scatterbrained maid was this, anyway?

Before he could process this, the manor doors opened again. The same little maid rushed out once more and stopped right in front of him. “Are you the suspicious person lurking around here?”

“Uh… I was wandering nearby, but I’m not lurking or suspicious,” Santis stammered, feeling increasingly flustered. He worried that one wrong word might cause a misunderstanding—after all, the maid wasn’t high-ranking, but since she was delivering messages directly to the lord, he had to be careful. “I have business with the lord. I…”

Before he could finish, Betty interrupted with a bright smile, “Oh, then come in! The master wants to see you!”

Moments later, Gawain met the second-level arcanist from the royal capital in his study: Santis Saide.

He suddenly remembered the name—Santis was part of the hundred-strong aid contingent sent from the capital. A second-level arcanist was considered a rare “upper-tier talent” in that group. In this era’s social hierarchy, professionals ranked above ordinary craftsmen, and spellcasters were the aristocrats among professionals. Though a second-level arcanist was still low-ranking, their magical expertise and broad knowledge made them key members of any team. That was why Gawain had assigned Santis to the mana crystal smelting plant to test various crystal mixtures.

After that, Gawain had completely forgotten about him.

Partly because he was overwhelmed with affairs—managing the territory and dealing with cultists outside left him no peace—and partly because Santis had made no impression. He neither pushed for better treatment nor made any notable contributions. He simply kept to himself at the smelting plant. According to Heddy, Santis “mingled with the furnace workers every day, looking just as grimy as they did.” If he hadn’t come knocking on the manor door today, Gawain might have forgotten there was even a spellcaster in his domain.

Now recalling him, Gawain studied the young mage curiously: messy hair, sunken red-rimmed eyes, tall and thin, wearing a faded old robe. Santis stood stiffly in the center of the room, nervously fiddling with the buttons on his clothes, nearly pulling one off.

“Santis Saide, second-level arcanist, from the Royal Mage Association, right?” Gawain asked after a moment. “What brings you here?”

“Ah, I… I came…” Santis’s carefully prepared speech vanished instantly. After a long pause, he blurted out his purpose plainly. “Miss Jenny told me the lord is recruiting teachers…”

Gawain paused. The recruitment notice had been out for over a month and had reached the aid contingent. Several literate craftsmen had applied to be temporary night school teachers. But he hadn’t expected a second-level arcanist to be interested. “Yes, I am recruiting teachers. Are you interested?”

“Y-yes,” Santis said, finally yanking off a button in nervous excitement. “I… I would like to be a private tutor in your household. I specialize in arcane and magical theory, and I have some knowledge of heraldry, Ansu history, and noble etiquette. Though my rank is low, I’m good at teaching. Your children can be entrusted to me…”

“Stop, stop,” Gawain interrupted, realizing Santis had completely misunderstood the recruitment. “I think you got the wrong idea—I’m not looking for a noble tutor for my own children.”

Santis looked confused, nervously twisting the button in his hands. “Oh? Not for your children?”

“Don’t you know? I only have two heirs: Heddy and Rebecca. Both are seasoned spellcasters, ranked higher than you. Rebecca might need some etiquette lessons, but you wouldn’t stand a chance against her—unless you’re skilled with dual weapons and good at running and charging,” Gawain said, spreading his hands. “I’m not hiring tutors for my granddaughters. I’m recruiting teachers for the night school.”

“Night school?” Santis looked even more bewildered—he seemed completely unaware of this.

“You’ve never heard of it?” Gawain’s curiosity piqued at this odd arcanist. “Even the commoners and serfs in the territory know about the night school. You don’t?”

“I… since my appointment, I’ve been at the crystal smelting plant,” Santis admitted, cheeks reddening. “Other than that, I’ve been reading at my residence and haven’t paid attention to anything else. If Miss Jenny hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known you were recruiting teachers.”

Gawain couldn’t help but laugh at this awkward, nervous, and somewhat slow-witted arcanist. “The night school is for commoners, including serfs and laborers. Do you understand? I’m not looking for a high-level tutor to teach noble etiquette and heraldry. I want someone who can teach ordinary people to read and write.”

Santis gaped for a moment, clearly hearing this for the first time. He seemed utterly baffled. Just as Gawain thought the arcanist was about to politely decline, Santis suddenly nodded and asked, “If I teach at the night school, will I receive the extra pay mentioned in the recruitment notice?”

“You’re willing?” Gawain was surprised. “Do you know you’ll be teaching a bunch of commoners who just learned a few letters and can only count to a hundred?”

Santis smiled awkwardly. “I’ve taught magic theory to uneducated merchant children in the capital. I don’t think it’ll be too hard… probably.”

After confirming Santis was serious about accepting the job, Gawain couldn’t help but smile.

Finally, a bona fide spellcaster was willing to teach at the night school. He had tried many times before to recruit mages or apprentices from towns like Tansan or Kant to teach there, but as soon as they learned they’d be dealing with “lowly commoners,” every single one refused. They seemed to believe commoners and serfs were inherently intellectually inferior, fundamentally different from mages or nobles. They didn’t think they could teach such people advanced knowledge and didn’t want to face the challenge.

Their refusal wasn’t just pride—it was a preemptive surrender, convinced they would fail.

But now, here was a second-level arcanist volunteering for the job. Though the process had been a bit unusual, Santis Saide seemed genuinely willing.

“Are you really that short on money?” Gawain asked, still pleased but curious. “Mages usually aren’t poor, right?”

“Actually, mages can be short on money, especially those from commoner backgrounds,” Santis said shyly. “I have to send money home. My family is still in the capital…”

Gawain raised an eyebrow. “You’re from a commoner family?”

“Yes… My father was a cook for a noble family in the capital, and my mother is an herbalist.”

Indeed, a commoner, but from a relatively well-off and respected family. Such families might invest heavily to send their children to learn magic, hoping to climb the social ladder. Someone like Santis, who had officially earned second-level arcanist status, had technically transcended his commoner origins and qualified to enter upper circles. Yet, judging by his appearance, you’d never guess.

Gawain voiced his doubts, and Santis’s expression grew even more awkward, tinged with shame. “I did earn second-level arcanist status, but I have a congenital defect in my mana reserves. I can only cast three to five spells a day.”

Gawain suddenly understood—this explained everything.

Santis’s magical limitation was similar to Rebecca’s but at the opposite extreme: Rebecca had immense mental strength and mana reserves, able to hurl hundreds of fireballs daily without tiring, but could only maintain one spell model at a time. Santis could construct multiple spell models and learn the most complex arcane spells, but his mental strength and mana reserves were minimal.

Rebecca, despite her defect, was noble-born. Even if her family had fallen on hard times, she still lived in the castle with a life far better than any commoner. Santis, however, was a commoner. When his congenital mana defect was discovered after he became a certified spellcaster, high society promptly cast him aside. His family likely owed a mountain of debts—both financial and social.

His participation in the hundred-strong aid contingent was probably partly motivated by the king’s subsidy.

With all this in mind, Gawain no longer questioned Santis’s choice.

“Then welcome to the honorable profession of teaching,” Gawain said, standing behind his desk and nodding with a smile. “And the courses you’ll teach… won’t be limited to basic literacy. I have other plans for you.”

Santis hurriedly bowed, “Ah, yes, my lord.”

Gawain: “First things first—put down those buttons you’re fiddling with. You’re about to wear a patina on them from all that handling…”

Santis: “…”

(End of chapter)