Fifty-Two: A Little Talk
“You’ve got quite a sense of humor.” Joseph’s smile curved like a thin crescent; Lilith couldn’t tell if he believed her, so she mirrored it, stiff as lacquer.
“Let’s talk about what comes next.” He took a sip of black tea; steam drifted like silk. He cleared his throat. “I’ve no objection to Miss Lilith borrowing my astrological instruments to observe the Star Canvas. I respect every seeker who reaches for those lights, and I’m willing to share my tools.”
“However, I’d like to know your current grasp of the Star Canvas. Forgive the intrusion, but I need a clear picture to support your research.”
The question pricked her calm. Doubt rippled first, then words. The Little White Dragon didn’t mind revealing herself, yet Lilith didn’t even know her own level now.
When she left the Dragon Territory, she’d only seen half a face of the Star Canvas. By the guild’s ladder, that put her at a fourth-tier Astrologer—barely past apprentice, a first true step.
But on the road, her grasp of Star Energy had hardened like tempered steel. After entering Lamter, she even held a conversation with the Star Canvas itself, like whispering to an ocean of light and hearing it whisper back.
She knew that exchange had changed her sight. She just couldn’t weigh how much. Anxiety fluttered; would the sky she saw now be the same sky, or a stranger wearing starlight?
“Well, it’s not that I’m hiding anything,” she said, hand to hair in a sheepish scratch. “It’s that I don’t know what level I am right now. I’m traveling to train, and my understanding deepened on the way. So I can’t label myself.”
“No problem. For explorers, not knowing where you stand is normal.” Joseph didn’t flinch at that; his nod fell soft as rain. He even offered comfort. “The path into the Star Canvas is a lonely road. The ancestors leave us maps, but to know each star, you still have to walk up and greet it yourself.”
“You’re right.” Lilith nodded. Astrologers are seekers with eyes raised to the river of stars. The galaxy blazes without end; no one has seen its whole face. No one can guarantee what their students will observe. Uncertainty sits in the heart of this work like fog over a lake. “I think I need to observe once before I can answer you.”
“Done. I can set it up now.” Joseph moved with quick purpose. His words barely landed before he stood, wrote a line on parchment in quick strokes, then carried it to the door and handed it to Miss Elsa, who’d been posted outside like a chastised sentinel.
“It’s arranged. Tonight, once night rises, you can use our finest instruments. Tomorrow, we’ll draft a detailed plan.” He returned to his chair; the young-looking scholar addressed Lilith with clear eyes.
“Thank you.” The Little White Dragon dipped her head, gratitude warm as lamplight. She remembered what Elsa had said on the way and asked, tentative as a feather. “I heard you’re busy with a very important study. Am I interrupting your normal work?”
“Don’t worry. That project is done. Now I’ll be stuck in my office, writing letters and arguing.” Joseph’s sigh slipped out like wind through leaves. “My new paper challenges traditional Astrologer theories. Even with strict proofs from me and my students, the questions won’t stop soon. That’s normal.”
Lilith nodded. Academic storms weren’t her seas. In moments like this, a quiet smile beats any oar.
“And I’m relatively young in the field. Lamter isn’t exactly a city thick with scholarly air. To some grand authorities, our level may not even count.” Another sigh rolled forth; Lilith had lost count since she walked in. So this is the fate of scholars—pressure piling like mountains.
“You’re young and capable; being questioned is natural. I believe your theory can win over Astrologers who doubt you. Even my teacher might approve.”
“Miss Lilith, you’re kind,” he chuckled, setting aside his gloom. “You don’t even know what my research is. Elsa probably only gave you the broad strokes, right?”
“Uh… mm… yeah.” Caught, Lilith admitted she didn’t understand his work at all; she’d been comforting him with broad words. And honestly, Asterios might not agree. As a classical Silver Dragon, he might stand against an elf scholar’s new view.
“I appreciate the goodwill. As for doubt, I’m ready.” Joseph’s smile evened out, calm as still water. “I’ll be in the office a lot. If you need me, come anytime.”
“Thank you for making time for me.” Lilith stood and bowed to the elven scholar, manners smooth as jade. “I’m looking forward to the work ahead.”
“Nothing is more joyful than probing the Star Canvas. And I can offer Lamter’s finest place for studying the stars.” Pride flared, then he tempered it and looked at Lilith with a small, earnest plea. “I do have one request.”
“Please say it.” Suspicion flickered; what could Mr. Joseph want from her?
“Most of our faculty are scholars devoted to the Star Canvas. When it comes to using Stellar Magic, we’re… not impressive. The few who go out to buy supplies get bullied in the South Market. Could you teach us some practical combat techniques?” He asked it with a shy wince, like someone borrowing a sword and hoping not to nick the blade.
