Mother of Learning. Arc 3 Incomplete

Zorian sighed and started outlining a tentative plan into his notebook, completely ignoring their history teacher’s enthusiastic lecture. He had to figure out who to contact, what to put into the letters, and how to ensure they couldn’t be traced back to him. He somehow doubted the government would allow authors to publish instructions on how to evade detection from law enforcement, but he would still check the library to see what they have on the topic. He was so caught up in his self-appointed task he barely noticed when the class ended, furiously scribbling away while everyone else packed and filed out of the classroom. He definitely didn’t notice Benisek peering over his shoulder.

«What are you doing?»

Zorian slammed his notebook shut in a reflexive maneuver as soon as Benisek started talking and gave the other boy a nasty glare.

«It’s impolite to look over other people’s shoulders,» Zorian remarked.

«Jumpy, aren’t we?» smiled Benisek, loudly dragging a chair from the nearby table so he could sit on the other side of Zorian’s table. «Relax, I didn’t see anything.»

«Not for the lack of trying,» remarked Zorian. Benisek only grinned wider. «What do you want, anyway?»

«Just wanted to talk for a bit,» Benisek shrugged. «You’re been really withdrawn this year. You’ve got this frustrated look on your face all the time, and you’re always busy even though it’s the start of the school year. Wanted to know what was bothering you, you know?»

Zorian sighed. «This isn’t something you can help me with, Ben…»

Benisek made a strangled noise, apparently outraged by his remark. «What do you mean I can’t help you!? I’ll have you know I’m an expert on girl trouble.»

Now it was Zorian’s turn to make a strangled noise. «Girl trouble!?»

«Oh come on,» Benisek laughed. «Constantly distracted? Spacing out in the middle of the class? Making plans for sending anonymous letters? It’s obvious, man! Who’s the lucky girl?»

«There is no ‘lucky girl’,» Zorian growled. «And I thought you didn’t see anything?»

«Listen, I don’t think sending anonymous letters is a good idea,» Benisek said, completely ignoring his remarks. «That’s so… first year, you know? You should just walk up to her and tell her how you feel.»

«I don’t have time for this,» Zorian sighed, getting up from his seat.

«Hey, come on…» protested Benisek, trailing after him. «Man, you’re one touchy guy, did anybody tell you that? I was just…»

Zorian ignored him. He really didn’t need this right now.

In retrospect, Zorian should have known that simply ignoring Benisek wasn’t such a good idea. It only took 2 days for most of the class to ‘know’ that Zorian has a crush on someone, and their loud speculation was annoying as hell. Not to mention distracting. Still, his displeasure at the rumors evaporated when Neolu approached him one day and gave him a short list of ‘books he might find useful’. He had half a mind to set the list on fire, especially since the list was decorated with dozens of little hearts, but in the end his natural curiosity won over and he went to the library to check them out. He figured that at the very least he’d get a good laugh out of them.

He got more than a good laugh, though — instead of silly love advice like he expected, the books Neolu recommended were all about making sure your letters, gifts, and such couldn’t be traced back to you with divinations and other magic. Apparently if you call such advice Forbidden Love: Mysteries of Scarlet Letters Revealed and phrase it as relationship advice you can get straight past the usual censorship such topics would normally be subjected to.

Of course, he had no idea how reliable the advice in those books really was, and the librarian looked at him funny when he checked out books like that, but he was still pleased to have found them. If this whole thing worked out in the end he’d have to do something nice for Neolu.

So as the summer festival approached, Zorian prepared and plotted. He bought a whole stack of generic paper sheets, pens, and envelopes in one of the stores that looked too poor and disorganized to track their customers purchases. He worded the letters carefully to avoid revealing any personal details. He made sure not to touch the paper with his bare hands at any point, and that none of his sweat, hair, or blood ended up in the envelope. He deliberately wrote in a blocky, formal script that looked nothing like his normal handwriting. He destroyed the pens, the excess paper, and envelopes he didn’t use in the end.

And then, a week before the festival, he put the letters in different public postal boxes all over Cyoria and waited.