The youth immediately set about finding L'Académie, for he would have no lodging if he did not. As he walked, however, his steps became lightened with the realization that he truly was in a whole different country. The entire city seemed somehow more beautiful, more vibrant than the shabbiness of Rallia. All of the buildings were not the dirty, dilapidated residences of that city; age had been kinder to these structures, and they were careworn rather than merely broken down. Florists, bakeries, and wine shops seemed to be innumerable in this new surrounding. He had no foreknowledge of the city's layout, but was hesitant to try out his Ilesian for fear that his tongue would trip over the foreign words and he would be misunderstood. Wandering here, however, was by no means onerous. The streets wove about and seemed to dance around in his mind, until he no longer had any idea where the water lay in relation to his present site. Regardless, he was decidedly in love with Marais, something he had never felt on the run-down streets of Rallia.

All around, people were calling to each other merrily and having a good time. In Rallia, most people had always been too busy to bother addressing each other in the streets; only in the slums had the people seemed alive. But here, everyone was just as lively, and it seemed as though there was no poor or rich section of town to be found. Indeed, the city had the same high level of designs throughout; they were varied widely and made for a stimulating visual palette to entice the eyes. As far as he knew, Ilesia had always been slightly less successful in the trade between their two states. But with his own eyes, he could see that they were the happier of the two. It only went to show that money was by no means the way to happiness.

There were a profusion of cafés around the streets of Marais, and it was into one of these he entered for a time in order to collect himself. He purchased a modestly sized sandwich and a coffee, enjoying the cosmopolitan feel of dining in a streetside café. While there, he decided to indulge in a little people watching. It seemed that the florist's girlfriend across the street had been unfaithful, and he watched with interest as they carried out a protracted argument while avoiding attracting the attention of the former's mother, who was apparently staying in the apartment above the shop. He learned the best place to buy olives, how to check a cantaloupe for rotting, and that the city's mayor enjoyed eating the substandard imported cheese that was becoming so common these days. One of the two companions discussing this felt it was a pity, but the other's response was lost in the rise and fall of conversations all around him that was the hallmark of Ilesian life. These were a sociable people, to be sure.

Upon finishing his meal, he got up again to walk around and gain his bearings. His directionless wanderings extended into the late afternoon; all thought of finding the academy had gone out of his mind. As evening drew near, however, he began to wonder where it was with more urgency. The people were mostly starting to head home, and a thick fog had begun to descend over the city. Once he saw the curiously familiar street lamps shining, he realized then that he had dreamed of Ilesia, what semeed like lifetimes ago in the bedchambers at the Accademia di Fiori; did that mean, then, that seeking out L'Académie was not what needed to be done? So it seemed. He walked on a little further, until he found a little niche between two small shops. Fearing somewhat for his safety, but having no other recourse, he simply lay down on the side of the building and went to sleep.

When he woke up, he first checked to make sure that all his possessions remained. To his relief, everything remained undisturbed, just as before. Marais was evidently even safer than he had felt it to be, for in Rallia he would have been stripped of all his belongings had he tried something foolhardy. In fact, he felt still that it might have been unwise to try it even here, but it was already done at this point, and no harm had come to him. Standing up and dusting himself off, he went back into the streets to find them just as bustling as before. He received a friendly "Bonjour!" from several passersby, and asked the first person he saw in scholarly garments in Ilesian for the location of the academy.

"Ah, L'Académie! I have just come from there. You go down this street here, then to the right, you cannot miss it. But are you from here? You are attired so strangely."

"No, I'm from Norven, a few fortnights' journey from Rallia."

"What?! I would have sworn you were from our very own provinces! Your Ilesian is impeccable, young man."

He blushed slightly. "Thank you."

"Anyway, I must be getting on. But good luck, whatever your quest may be."

"Thank you, sir. Farewell!"

Emboldened by this encounter, Cyrus strode with purpose towards L'Académie, hoping that the people there would be as helpful as this first representative of their scholars. He came quickly to the place where he had been directed, and was quite surprised. In place of the imposing edifice he had anticipated, the university was low to the ground, a number of small buildings separated by delightful gardens and open-air courtyards, wherein the students and professors could be seen chatting and enjoying the fine weather. He walked towards the central building, which was attractively designed with curved edges and what could only be described as a distinctly Ilesian sensibility; he passed under an arch decorated with curlicues and a metal vine worked around its center, which proclaimed the institution's full name with curving, spidery letters: "L'Académie des Fleurs."

Inside, he saw at once just how truly different the Accademia and this academy were. The interior was nothing short of beautiful. It aimed not to impress and intimidate, but make those who entered feel comfortable, and provide a feast for their eyes with its tasteful splendor. There was only one level, yet it was as spacious as might be desired: to the left and right, there were salon type areas with comfortable chairs and tables for holding tea or other beverages; in the center, a large circular desk where a white-haired scholar was sipping from a cup of coffee and sighing contently.

Feeling elated due to the wonderful ambience, Cyrus greeted him with a cheery "Bonjour, Monsieur!" The man glanced up in surprise, and smiled warmly when he saw the youth. "Ah, a visitor! I'm sorry, I didn't notice you come in. Please, what can I do for you?"

"I wondered if I might speak to the head of the school."

"But of course! She's in the garden just behind this building."

She? He had not realized the school had a headmistress and not a headmaster. Thanking him, he went around to the back, where a magnificently regal lady was enjoying a cup of tea while talking to what he presumed was one of the professors.

"Ah, excuse me, Madame. You are the headmistress here?"

"Why yes, I am Hélène. And who might you be, young sir?"

"I am Cyrus, of Norven. Pleased to meet you," he said. She extended her hand for a handshake, but he knelt and kissed it instead.

"Oh!" She arched a quizzical eyebrow, smiling with slight amusement nevertheless. "I am not used to such formality. Is it not the custom in your country to shake hands upon meeting a person."

"Yes. Is it not the custom to kiss a lady's hand in yours?"

She laughed slightly. "Yes, but a foreigner who is aware of the custom is quite a rare find indeed. But tell me, what is it you came here for?"

"I wish to find the Gardener who has gone missing from Rallia, and I dreamed that I would find the answer here."

"You traveled all the way here on the basis of a dream? That is even rarer, to be sure. But I am pleased that you've come. Do sit down, and we will discuss this search of yours."

At length, he told the tale of how he had come to seek the Gardener, and when he concluded both the headmistress and the professor who had been chatting with her were intensely curious about this unusual youth.

"Well, your tale is certainly an interesting one. By the way, it may interest you to learn that our astrologers are also aware of the sun's waning as you describe it."

"What have you learned about it?"

"Very little, I'm afraid. We know that there has been a marked decrease in the sun's brightness, but no one has any indication as to why this is happening. Ah yes; by the way, we did not know that the Gardener from Rallia was missing. Our contact with that city through the Accademia ceased quite a few years ago, though we never had the opportunity to learn why they had stopped."

He told them of the usurper, Kamril, and how the legitimate headmaster had been captured. He was hesitant to reveal that he had been a part of the rescue, fearing being seen as immodest, but their questions gave him no choice but to explain his own role. When he had finished again, they were even more surprised, but turned their discussion back to the sun.

"So, you think the Gardener would have some solution to this problem. I hate to disappoint you, but we have nothing to tell you on that subject."

The professor spoke up. "I know someone who might, however. Outside of the city, in the forest nearby, there lives a man named Robert who is very knowledgeable indeed. He came here from Rallia, just like you, though quite a long time ago. He stayed here for a time, but grew impatient and went off to live on his own. That one was always very curious, but he would never tell us much of his past. More or less, the only thing we know about him is just that, his name and his former residence. But if anyone here would know anything, it would be him."

"Ah! Which way is it, and how far?"

"Well, it's to the east, no more than a few hours' journey out of the city."

"But not so hasty!" the headmistress interjected. "I insist that you stay here for a few nights first. We haven't had a visitor from Rallia in quite a long time, and I'm sure the students would love to hear what you have to say about the city. Besides, you must be exhausted from your long journey. Come, let us find you some quarters, and you can seek out the hermit another time."

The trio walked through the university grounds, and were cordially hailed by all who they passed. Cyrus attracted quite a few glances for his noticeably Rallian clothing, and resolved to procure a different costume so as to be less conspicuous. They soon came to one among a series of little cabin-like dwellings on the outer edge of the roughly rectangular area, and the headmistress knocked on the door. She was greeted by a drowsy-looking boy about Cyrus' age.

"Pierre!" She chided him gently. "Were you going to sleep away the whole day?"

"No, Madame Hélène," he said sheepishly.

"Ah, no matter. Cyrus, this is Pierre. You can stay here as his bunkmate."

They shook hands, and Cyrus stepped in briefly to drop off his pack before emerging again. "Thank you for all your help, Madame."

"Think nothing of it. Come, Monsieur Delacroix, we must be going."

The professor and the headmistress departed, leaving the two youths together.

"Have you eaten?" Cyrus shook his head. "Then come, let us get lunch. We can go into one of the cafés in the city, I've no classes today."

He was amenable to this plan, and they went back into the busy streets of Marais to seek out a meal. There were seemingly an endless number of cafés, but Pierre guided him to one that was clearly a favorite among the young people. They sat down at one of the tables outdoors, and once again enjoyed the popular occupation of people-watching while they waited on the arrival of their food. To be sure, the passersby did not disappoint, and they observed with amusement and interest the menagerie of poodles, excessively large hats, and all the other parts of the slice of life which could be glimpsed, as it were, from the sidelines.

"How did you come to be here, anyway?" Pierre asked once their sandwiches had been brought by the waiter. Cyrus once again told the entire lengthy tale, this time abbreviating it significantly for the sake of brevity. He wolfed down the sandwich hungrily, realizing that this was his first real meal after a long period of the practically inedible dried biscuits onboard the ship.

"Let's get back to L'Académie, they're having a celebration tonight. There is probably going to be something in your honor." Pierre grinned. "Sometimes, I think the headmistress finds an excuse to celebrate anything just so we can enjoy ourselves. To be truthful, it's not a bad idea at all."

Standing up from their table in the crowded cafe, the two youths made it back to the campus grounds just in time for the start of the festivities. It seemed that there was going to be a feast, to be held in the central garden, where Madame Hélène could be seen bustling about and talking to the servers. Upon their arrival, the headmistress practically seized Cyrus and marched him to the head of the incredibly long dining table, where she tapped against the beautiful crystal glass for everyone's attention. The clear sound somehow rang out across its entire length, hushing everyone quickly as she prepared to speak.

"My dear friends, we have with us a special guest tonight. He has come all the way from the Accademia di Fiori in Rallia to visit our humble academy. Will you all welcome Cyrus of Norven!"

The assembly applauded uproariously and settled down to wait for a speech. Feeling particularly put on the spot, the boy nevertheless sought for some fitting words to say for the occasion.

"Er..." He cleared his throat and began afresh. "I thank you all for your gracious welcome. I have come here, to your beautiful Académie des Fleurs, in search of the learning that only your scholars possess. You have greeted me with the greatest hospitality, and I hope that I may in some small way repay this favor which I have been granted. Again, thank you."

They gave another hearty round of applause. It did not take much to satisfy this crowd, Cyrus thought to himself gratefully, as he took the seat to which the headmistress directed him. After a moment, he realized that he had been given the seat of honor, and that Pierre was forced to sit a fair distance down the table. Quite embarrassed, he regretted that they had not thought to enter less conspicuously, and thus have been able to sit together and avoid the attention.

Upon reflection, he also hoped fervently that he would not be called upon to make any more speeches, but as the evening proceeded it became evident that there was little danger of that. If there was one thing the Ilesians enjoyed more than anything, it was food, and large amounts of it. Very little could restrain them once they had started, and he realized that this was the reason why they favored brief speeches; it left more time for eating.

The evening was quite pleasant, and he was able to enjoy a wide sampling of the world-renown Ilesian cuisine. Rallia's sole claim to culinary fame, the maritelli, simply could not compete with the immense variety of dishes which the nation's best chefs had dreamed up for generations. He ended the night considerably more stuffed than he had been in most of recent memory. Well contented, he and Pierre went back to their shared cabin, and fell into bed, drowsy from all the delicious food had enjoyed.

In the morning, Cyrus awakened first, and decided to seek out the headmistress and ask how he might help out.

"Ah, Cyrus. I'm glad you've come. I was just about to ask you if you might tell Monsieur Delacroix's students about your voyage. They would be most gratified if you would grant them a few minutes. They're over there, in that building with the courtyard," she said, gesturing towards another of the low-set edifices which were spread around the grounds. He agreed, and walked quickly over the building, pausing a moment to collect his thoughts before entering.

The class was being held in the courtyard, which was as beautiful as any other part of the academy. The students were mostly seated on the grass, reclining comfortably on a set of chairs while the professor stood and delivered his lecture.

"...And so, we see that the potency of magic is influenced by the time of year, as well as the individual's state of health at the time." Glancing over to the door, he noticed Cyrus standing in the entrance, and called to him. "Oh! Cyrus, please come in. Class, I believe you'll remember Cyrus from last night's feast."

The students smiled and waved familiarly at him. He stepped to the professor's side, and the man yielded the floor to him. "Well, where shall I begin. I come from the small village of Norven, but I expect you'll be more interested to hear about Rallia."

He began to give a description of the history and geography of the city, but quickly detected that the students were growing tired of the subject. He cut himself off, and decided to take another route.

"Say, would you like to hear about how I rescued the headmaster of the Accademia di Fiori from a wicked magician's evil spell?"

The students voiced their approval, and he gave a somewhat embellished account of how Master Arturo had come to be free. With this, the students were most satisfied, and their faces were raptly attentive, while the professor, who had already heard the more accurate tale previously, looked more than a little incredulous at the mention of how the boy had fought off the fierce attacking vines surrounding the chamber, and how his great power had been integral in undoing the enchantment, although his conscience forced him to make mention of Ignatius' and Micael's role in the counterspell. At the conclusion, they clapped and cheered, and the professor stood up.

"Thank you, Cyrus, for that... imaginatively related tale. Let's have another round of applause for our visitor!"

Another cheer arose from the crowd, and he thanked them before exiting through the elegant doorway. He had decided to leave that very afternoon, and went to the cabin to gather his things and say goodbye to Pierre before seeking out the headmistress again.

"Pierre, it's been fun, but I have to be moving on now."

"Ah, no problem. Now I can tell everyone I have influential friends in the Accademia di Fiori!"

They laughed, and bid an amiable farewell. Cyrus continued to the garden behind the main building which Madame Hélène often frequented, and walked over to talk to her.

"The presentation went very well, but I'm afraid I really ought to be leaving now."

"Are you sure I can't tempt you to a few more days with us? We so like having guests."

"I fear not, Madame."

"What a shame." She sighed. "But very well, I suppose it's for the best. Well, good luck on your journey!"

"Thank you, Madame, for everything. Farewell!"

He walked out through the richly decorated gate with a small bit of regret. He had indeed enjoyed his brief stay at L'Académie, but it really was time to get on with his mission.

He walked along the path out of town, and neared the forest quite quickly. Drawing closer and closer to the place where the man was said to dwell, the trees of the approaching forest were exceptionally tall, and seemed more vibrant in a way than most other places he had been. He felt drawn to them, inexplicably. Once he had reached the edge of the forest, he realized that the trees formed an arch. He stood before it a moment, curious as to what might lay within.

As he hesitated on the boundary, his mind wandered back to the Accademia di Fiori. He wondered how Micael was getting along. The boy had probably been quite frustrated, he knew, and he worried how he was faring in his absence. He felt quite guilty indeed about having left him so abruptly, but he knew that the boy would have strongly resisted had he told him earlier. He was no longer sure what the right path would have been, but hoped that everything had turned out alright.