Eclair Jortac sat down at the desk in the front of the classroom facing his students. It was his first day with this group of advanced telekinetics and he felt like the new kid in school. He had thoroughly enjoyed teaching the younger students for the past six months. They had responded well to him and loved his quirky ways. This class would be different. These students would not be so easily impressed with him especially since he was only a few years older than most of them.
All right, I’m the teacher. If anyone should be nervous, it’s these kids, not me.
Eclair’s eyes swept the room.
“Good morning. My name is Eclasius Jortac. I’ll be your teacher for this class on advanced telekinetics.”
In the back of the class, he heard a pair of students snicker.
“I heard they used to call him Eclair, like the pastry.”
“Yeah, cause he’s soft and gooey.”
The two had pitched their voices loud enough for everyone to hear. Smothered laughter erupted throughout the class. Another time and place, Eclair would have turned beat red and quietly taken the jeering, another time, another place, and definitely, another Eclair.
He had been warned by the chancellor about these two students--a pair of bullies, physically powerful and fairly decent telekinetics. They were of the house of Vogdo and were second-generation nephews of the Grand Duke. Their previous instructors had given them ample liberties because of that fact. No one wanted to face the displeasure of the Grand Duke of Otharia and the Institute’s number one benefactor.
Eclair stood up and walked around to the front of his desk while he continued his introduction. He concentrated slightly and the two perpetrators jerked out of their seats, standing at attention, with their arms locked to their sides, unable to move a muscle. However, they could still speak and the first one quickly voiced his displeasure.
“Hey,” the first boy yelled peevishly, struggling to no avail. “What’s going on? I can’t move.”
All eyes turned toward the back of the room.
The second boy struggled for a few moments before giving up.
“As I said, my name is Eclasius Jortac.”
“Well, my name is Vogdo,” the first boy interrupted, “and when my great uncle hears of this . . .”
The boy’s mouth slammed shut and his eyes went wide with shocked indignation.
Eclair continued talking unfazed by the boy’s interruption. The other student’s heads swiveled back and forth between their frozen classmates and their new teacher.
“You may call me Sir or Master Jortac.”
Both boys stared at Eclair with fire in their eyes. No one else spoke, their attention was glued to the two boys held in thrall. To the ultimate surprise of the class, the two slowly elevated into the air and began to spin around in a circle.
Eclair continued talking nonchalantly.
“I want everyone to understand something as we move forward in this class. I’m the instructor and you’re the students. You’re here to learn and I’m here to teach you. Today’s lesson is on focus and the application of power.”
The two boys struggled to free themselves as they continued to rotate in front of the other students. The class soon recognized that Eclair was demonstrating two separate weaves of power on air, something none of them had seen before.
Eclair pressed his point.
“To truly understand power, one must look beyond the surface. What one perceives with one’s eyes is not necessarily the strength that is lurking beneath.”
Eclair chose his words deliberately for impact. While the students watched the spinning boys, an apple floated into the air between the two. No one had ever been able to cast a third weave of power and the students looked on in shock. Only adepts of the highest degree could cast two weaves of power and even they studied for long years to achieve it. The boys stared wide-eyed at the apple rising between them.
All those hours of training and I’m reduced to classroom theatrics, Eclair thought.
“Subtly is the secret to control,” he continued. “Understanding and applying the discrete and proper amount of power is the key to success. Apply too much power at the wrong time and disaster could result.”
The apple didn’t quite burst apart as Eclair had expected, but pieces were still sent flying off in all directions. The two boys dropped to their seats like sacks of grain each with their share of apple bits decorating their heads. Released from their constraints, the boys sat dumbly in their seats staring at their new instructor.
Hmmm, not quite what I had expected, but it did the trick. I’ll have to work on my control a bit more.
“Now, does anyone else have any questions before I continue?”
“No, Master Jortac,” the class replied collectively.
“Excellent. Let’s move on to our next topic.”