"Can anyone have a guess on what is it?" Hudenro asked it because he had noticed more than what the students were revealing through their littlest actions.
Unlike Naph, half the class was quietly aware of the entire curriculum of this class. The other half included the students who merely had an idea.
Yet, none raised their hands to answer. 'As expected,' Hudenro was disappointed in them just as much as in their seniors who told them about this class.
But to an outsider that thought will seem odd, since previously within this session of the class people have reacted angrily to being denied access to this class. And among the ones who did, not all of them were seniors. Plenty were new students.
So, shouldn't they be aware of the general idea of the answer? The answer the students knew was stated through the audience's silence.
"Very well," Hudenro took a breath in, "I expect everyone wrote down their meaning of cata they understand?" Suddenly, a few more quills, pens and pencils started scribbling rigourously.
"Or not." He so did not want to shake his head, stopping his habit before it escaped.
Waiting those few moments, also gave Anaphol a weird stretch of silence where he had no immediate or short term goal at hand. All because his current one was ongoing, but this stretch of time had an undertone missing.
And his mind did not miss the opportunity to add one.
The very memories he had buried deep into him. The ones that were responsible for why he wasn't in the nation he was born in.
Clutching his chest right in front of his heart, the panic and the fear of what might have happened resurfaced since he had left. Not of the war in Sevenren. Not of what he did to Bulwark. All those too came back, albeit late but flooding to drown the worlds of memories he was suffocated by.
A calm hand gently grabbed his shoulder, "Are you ok?"
"Yeah," Naph answered. He did not look back at the boy behind him. The boy too removed his palm off Naph. Both staring at Professor Hudenro, and the glowing kaleidoscopic ball he kept passing from one hand to another.
Holding up the kaleidoscopic ball, Hudenro asked his students. "How do you think does this work?" 'If you can't answer a simple one, let me ask something that you'll want to take a gamble on.' Many students, as noticed by him, had purposely eyed the kaleidoscopic ball before and this time too.
That many in a normal class of the Sanctuary aspiring Proficiency and Wisdom will cap out the entire class, but here in the Orientation and Introductory class for new students it merely makes it up as twenty percent of the total.
"Still no answer?" Hudenro did not wait.
He put the ball down on the floor letting it go out of his hand.
Anaphol flinched instinctively. He had never experienced what may or may not happen if the kaleidoscopic space that always wrapped him were suddenly made into a ball and then let go. His subconscious had attached a possibility. A possibility it found lying around in Anaphol's inner Id.
But Naph does not know what is Id or could there be even an inner Id. If he knew, if he asked this right now, many scenarios may play but none that will be salvageable by him or anyone in a hundred kilometer radius.
The ball did not unfurl. It vibrated attempting to go towards Anaphol. But whenever it was closer a tiny bit, it acted as if it got confused and vibrated back in the same direction it had come from.
Naph's arms had lifted up few centimeters from the table in front of him as the ball was let go by Professor Hudenro.
The boy behind Anaphol said in his native language but Naph heard it in Reswa, "Professor, is that a live demonstration of the answer?"
Naph did not know what does demonstration mean but he did substitute it with 'example' based on what he saw and heard. The mere involuntary action he chose added to the lesio he was developing under Inri Plora's tutelage.
"Yes," Hudenro gazed back down at the ball and then back at the boy, "but I have been demonstrating it since the beginning of the class." His lips spread a tiny bit. "All of you do it too every single time you use lesios."
Folding his arms and locking them, Hudenro proceeded. "Orientation is a path, a technique, you utilize to take control of the lesio. Yet, you need to have a greater grasp on the one aspect of your lesios that you always," he considered the word he wished to use but didn't, "bring about every single time you call upon a lesio."
He let the air hang onto his words. None took the moment to whisper even their new guess if they had any.
So, he answered for them, "Realization."
Anaphol within his mind felt like he was sensing the breadcrumbs he had ignored too long to become visible for the first time.
The boy behind him rose his hand, "Professor, but aren't many lesios chant or recital based? And in none of them it's needed to truly understand the chant?"
'Someone's paying attention,' Hudenro praised him. "Sirius Red, I presume?"
The boy nodded.
"It's true that many lesios have basis in recitation. But that's not a requirement for the lesio." Hudenro pointed down at the kaleidoscopic ball. "The lesio I used for this came from the development of a simple lesio that lets you fold a cloth sheet in an instant."
Continuing as Naph listened in, "A lesio has ideas as its base upon which the frameworks are built on. You can change the frameworks anytime if you figure out what makes the base. Same method as using orientation." He waited for a split second, "Or it is part of the orientation technique itself."
Anaphol's thoughts that wrapped around the word cata felt uncannily loose around that word to him. Like something specific about it that held it together had been unraveled but how? He had no idea.
But, there's one thing he did not ask himself. How is he able to have a sensation of this looseness of thoughts about a word? He may not ask this for quite a while.