I loaded the Mysticism panel.

School starts on August 20th.

Richard arrived in the town where Imperial University was located, riding in Ashford's carriage.

This place is quite different from when he came for training in June.

There were far fewer men on the street.

Some were recruited and left, while those with connections were arranged by their families to be sent out early on.

Most of the rest are either too young or simply too frail to move.

The bulletin board in the town center used to be used to post lecture announcements, dormitory assignments, and book lists.

Now, a "Wartime Student Status Management Notice" is placed on top of it.

Recruitment posters were also pasted up at the school gate.

The poster features a young man standing tall with his chest puffed out, and below it is the text: "Go home before Christmas."

Richard entered the school gate with a mix of emotions he couldn't quite describe.

But when he entered the Petrie Building, where the Classics Department was located, he found that some things remained unchanged.

Military control can govern factories and railways, but not this place.

The Department of Classics, the Faculty of Theology, the Faculty of Engineering—several key departments with ties to the mystical side—not only didn't stop, but were busier than before the war.

As Richard walked into the corridor of the department office, he bumped into two lecturers arguing heatedly.

"This course cannot be stopped!" A thin lecturer wearing round-framed glasses gestured with his hand in the air.

"Rhetoric is the foundation; if the foundation isn't solid, anything built on top will be empty!"

"Foundation?" Another, fatter lecturer slammed a stack of lecture notes onto the windowsill.

"People are dying every day on the front lines! You're talking to me about foundations? The higher-ups aren't looking for someone who can carry Cicero!"

The two of them were arguing back and forth about whether or not a certain course should be suspended and the students sent to the front lines.

War has seeped into this centuries-old school.

Richard glanced at it twice and silently walked forward.

"Williams!"

A voice came from the other end of the corridor; it was Pendleton.

"You've come at the perfect time." Pendleton strode over. "The department has been incredibly busy lately."

"What's happening at the front?" Richard asked.

"The front lines need to be sealed off urgently."

The man glanced around and, finding no one else nearby, lowered his voice to explain.

"The old system of the Classics Department was too complicated. It would take four or five years to train students to the point where they could set up seals independently."

"The front lines can't wait."

"So the department is preparing a 'crash course' version." Pendleton shook his head.

"Shave down that complicated set again and again, leaving only the most essential elements, so that even a half-baked person can build a rough seal for emergencies."

"Are they already teaching?"

"Not yet." Pendleton waved his hand.

"Right now, it's just a matter of discussion. Compiling new textbooks is very difficult, and the senior professors are arguing fiercely, with no one able to convince the others."

"If you cut too hard, the seal won't hold. If the seal isn't strong, what you build might be more dangerous than nothing at all."

"But the higher-ups were pressing hard, so they released the information first, so everyone would be aware of the situation."

He sighed.

"If it really comes down to the timetable, it'll have to wait until after this semester."

He didn't say anything more and led Richard to complete the enrollment procedures.

………………

The preparatory courses at Imperial University are currently following the old schedule, with a full schedule.

The morning session consists of general classes for all preparatory students.

Language foundation, in-depth reading of original texts, essay writing, history, and period analysis.

This set of techniques is used in both regular and special classes.

The first section is Latin prose writing.

The lecturer wrote a passage in Albion on the blackboard and asked the students to translate it into Latin in the style of Cicero on the spot.

Richard had a solid foundation, so his writing flowed smoothly.

Next is the sight translation of Ancient Greek.

The lecturer randomly picked a passage from Thucydides and Homer, and asked the students to translate it on the spot without prior preparation.

Richard found this subject more challenging than Latin.

But given his solid foundation, coupled with his knowledge and critical thinking skills, his translation was quite reliable.

In the afternoon, the special class was separated from the small number of students in the regular class.

An invisible glass wall collapsed.

Students in the regular classes went to their lessons along another corridor.

The students in the special class were led into a windowless classroom on the east side of the Petrie Building.

The door to this classroom is inlaid with silver thread.

You have to press a button somewhere on the door frame to get in before the door will open.

The walls were engraved with inscriptions on all four sides, which suppressed the etheric field of the entire room to an extremely low level.

The lecturer said this was to prevent what was being said inside the room from leaking out.

The first subject in the afternoon is inscription studies.

The lecturer brought over a stack of rubbings, spread them out on the podium, and asked the students to date them on the spot.

"Dating is not about labeling an antique with a year."

The lecturer distributed the stack of rubbings one by one.

"The era in which a seal was built determines how it will age and at which turning point it will loosen first."

You've made a mistake in generational continuity; trying to maintain it in the future might just cause it to break down.

Richard took a rubbing and thought of Whitcomb's twelve boundary stones.

The second gate is the ceremonial language.

"Go and look through the publicly available Mass books."

The lecturer placed the thick "Collection of Terms for the National Religious Worship Ritual" on the table.

"These terms were originally extracted from the sealing, exorcism, and slumber rituals of various lineages."

"The church has wrapped them in the skin of saints for hundreds of years, but the real thing hasn't changed."

He wrote a line of Latin on the blackboard.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," this phrase sounds like a prayer.

But its true framework is the "triple confirmation" in the sleep ritual.

The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit correspond to the three hooks in the judgment.

The third course is an introduction to curtain dynamics.

The textbook was Haldane's "Introduction to Curtain Dynamics," which Richard had long since memorized.

What the lecturer said was more profound than what was in the book.

"The model described in the book is from peacetime and is somewhat outdated."

"There were originally two opposing sides arguing, but now there's no need to argue anymore."

The lecturer closed the book and drew curves on the blackboard.

"Once the war begins, the weak points in the Old World expand much faster than the model."

"With so many dead people, the deathly aura builds up, and weak points thrive one after another."

"When you go down to the field, you'll all have to update that seal maintenance manual you're holding."

During the first week of classes, the "crash course" schedule was never missed.

However, the lecturers seemed a bit distracted during class.

Richard's gaze fell on the other end of the corridor.

Catherine sat there, her red hair hanging down, looking down at a rubbing.

Richard had been watching her closely lately, but he couldn't figure it out.

Catherine is still the same Catherine.

Cold, decisive, and efficient in doing things, just like during my training.

She handled those aristocratic youths with perfect composure, showing no sign of the restlessness that demanded a "even score".

Richard subtly shifted his gaze away, returning it to the inscription in his hand.

During break, Montague found Richard.

"Williams".

The blond youth sat down in the empty seat next to him.

"Montagu".

There was no formality between the two.

We got to know each other quite well after that month of training plus those two nights at the museum.

Montagu's voice was not loud: "The fighting on the front lines is getting fiercer and fiercer."

"Two people in my family have also passed away."

Richard looked toward him.

Which generation?

"My uncle and cousin were both hunters, but they didn't even manage to bring back the bodies."

When Montagu said these things, there wasn't much sadness on his face.

"Even families like mine are getting more people added to the ranks," he said, looking ahead. "And other families are even more out of the question."

Richard did not respond.

"The department is going to be changed too," Montagu changed the subject.

"change?"

"Wartime scholars, I heard they're graduating early."

"Is this settled?" Richard asked.

"It's not finalized." Montagu shook his head: "Just like that crash course schedule, it's just a rumor being deliberately leaked."

"But rumors never spread for no reason. If they're so certain, it's probably only a matter of time."

"The time was compressed." Richard frowned. "How are we going to build a solid academic foundation?"

"It won't hold up," Montagu said bluntly. "But the higher-ups don't care about that; they only care about the numbers."

"We need as many capable scholars as we can squeeze out of the schools."

"Whether the scholars squeezed out of the field have a solid foundation, whether they can survive their first field assignment..."

Richard knew in his heart that those who weren't well-established would most likely not return after being sent out.

This is like using one batch of students after another to fill a mouth that can never be filled.

The school bell rang.

Montagu stood up and straightened his clothes.

"During my training, I said we could talk again when we had time."

He nodded to Richard: "We'll be classmates from now on, let's chat."

Montagu turned and returned to his seat, preparing for the next class.

………………

Preparatory classes often involve group assignments.

Deciphering, proofreading, picking the supporting beam from a stack of old papers.

The instructor divided the people into two or three groups and had them work together in one place.

Richard's group happens to include Edith.

She has a solid foundation and is willing to put in the effort.

An inscription was handed over, copied with more detail than anyone else's.

The two of them did homework together a few times and became quite familiar with each other.

That day, Edith put down her pen halfway through a double repetition problem.

"Williams," she said softly.

"Um?"

"I ran into her on the street a while ago," Edith said.

"Who did you run into?"

"Lillian is the girl who came to the museum to chat with me on the day of the Black Soil River exhibition."

Richard stopped writing.

"What's wrong with her?" Richard asked.

Edith frowned.

"She still speaks so softly, just like before, and is very easy to get along with."

"But those eyes..."

"I talked to her about birds and the plants we talked about last time. She answered, and answered very politely."

"But when she looked at me, it was like she was looking at a specimen."

Edith lowered her head.

"What are you looking at? It's all cold now."

"I can't explain it either." She shook her head.

"I just feel that she's not quite the same person she was at the museum that day."

"You were her classmate in high school, do you know what exactly happened to her?"

Edith looked up.

"I don't know," was the only answer Richard could give.

The girl pursed her lips and buried herself in her work again.

Outside the window, the leaves of the old sycamore trees beneath the Petrie Building are starting to turn yellow.

Autumn is coming soon.