Chapter 21

Tutors I

Mags was jolted awake by a light tapping on the door. She blinked into the morning light streaming through the small round window, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

The door to her cabin swung open and Rubicante stood in the doorway, his usual calm demeanor in place. “Good morning. It is time to begin your day,” he said.

“Good morning,” Mags grumbled.

“Did you sleep well?”

Mags just gave another grumble in response.

“Come, I’ll show you to the baths.”

Mags dragged herself out of bed, still groggy, and followed him through the winding halls of Skithbladnir. The ship seemed even more complex in the morning light, every corridor a mystery, every turn leading to another unfamiliar passage. Mags recognized some of the hallways and rooms from her tour of the airship’s interior, but most of it was confusing. It still reminded her of the Deep.

The room dedicated to the baths was larger than she expected, easily three times the size of the bathhouse in Solstice. Soft lantern light reflected off the polished marble floors, and the scent of lavender and other florals hung in the air. Pipes ran across the lofted ceiling of the room. Sinks with individual, circular glass mirrors lined one wall. The center of the room was filled with a double row of lockers and marble benches. Doorways lined the back wall. Rubicante explained that the doorways led to either private latrines, or the baths—one for the women and one dedicated to the men of the crew. The baths were luxurious.

“Here,” Rubicante handed her a fresh set of clothes that had been folded and placed on one of the benches. “These are Calcabrina’s. The fit might be a little off, but close enough.”

Mags thanked him.

“I will be right outside. Please take your time,” Rubicante said. He gave a slight bow of his head before seeing himself out.

She was seemingly alone in the room. Taking a quick moment to get a lay of the land, she was able to locate small bands and caps near the central rows of lockers, which she used to tie up her hair and cover before entering the women’s bathroom.

After quickly scrubbing herself clean, she changed into the clothes Rubicante had provided—a simple tunic and trousers that, despite being a little loose around the waist, felt much better than the worn-out rags she’d been wearing.

Once she was dressed, Rubicante walked her to the mess hall. The air smelled of savory spices, and her stomach growled as she made her way to the table. Her breakfast was simple but hearty: cava, a roasted half-tomato, a few small peppers, onions, and a piece of flatbread. She ate quickly, eager to begin the day.

Her first lesson was with Libicocco in the ship’s library. The library smaller than many of the rooms Rubicante had previously shown her, but still dwarfed any room in Solstice’s orphanage. Each wall was lined with shelves brimming with books. A couple of tables, cushioned chairs around them, sat in the center. Mags couldn’t help but stare at the sheer number of books. It had been years since she’d seen so many in a single place. It felt like the knowledge of the world was at her fingertips.

Libicocco was already seated at one of the tables when they arrived. She wasted no time. “Before we begin,” she said, pushing her spectacles higher on her nose, “I need to understand where you stand in terms of education. We’ll start with a general set of questions, and try to establish a baseline. It’s okay if you don’t know the answers to some, or even all, of these questions.”

For the next few hours, Libicocco drilled Mags with questions—history, literature, and mathematics. The first couple of hours felt like she was back at Soulgrave House, recounting the basic but robust education she had received from her mother. Mags knew most of the answers. In fact, the questions were hilariously easy for Mags. Once she had gotten used to drawing from her memory and the rust had been thoroughly knocked off of her brain, Mags was able to anticipate several of the follow up questions Libicocco had planned on asking. Mags opted for providing longer, more detailed responses.

Libicocco seemed taken aback at first. But as the questioning advanced, the subjects became harder. Complex arithmetic, questions about obscure historical events, and even asking Mags to defend certain positions on topics . . . Mags managed a few educated guesses, but there were more than a handful of questions she had no idea how to answer. And more than a few arguments she knew she had no idea how to defend. By the end, she felt like she’d run a mental gauntlet. She was exhausted.

Libicocco finally sat back in her chair, a small, satisfied smile on her lips. “You’ve surprised me. You’re strong in mathematics, much stronger than expected. However, your knowledge of history, particularly of the Second Uruth War, and the Royal Families of the Thirteen Crowns, has significant gaps. Your mastery of Viros literature and geography need work too.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “We’ll need to shore up those areas, but you’ve got a good foundation. Excellent, actually.” Libicocco’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you actually from? . . . Who are you, really?”

Mags tensed. Was it wise to bring up Soulgrave House? She still didn’t know whether or not she could trust the Ghost Hounds. Ultimately, she settled for providing a half-truth. “I’m a nobody. But spending a large portion of my life as an orphaned refugee in Solstice, I lived in Calmarsh. My parents were merchants, and able to afford a private tutor. But that was before…” Mags let the last words hang there.

Libicocco’s mouth tightened. Mags wasn’t sure if the woman was convinced by that response. “That was one hell of a tutor. There are noble families who can’t afford as good of an education before their children are sent to one of the Academies.”

“My parents valued learning above almost anything else,” Mags said. “My life in Calmarsh was a lonely one, for the most part.” That part is very much true.

Libicocco exhaled through her nose and cleared her throat. “Well, this is indeed fortunate. I am feeling much more confident with our expedited timeline than I did this morning. I think I know where we will begin. An initial set of books for you to read and memorize will be on your desk by this evening. Please spend the next few days reading those. I’ll test you on the materials.”

Mags exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief. “I can do that.”

Libicocco stood. “Your next lesson is with Malacoda. I’ll walk you to him.”

Mags scrambled to her feet. “Erm . . . Before we do, could I ask you a question? Something I was curious about.”

“Sure.”

“All the Ghost Hounds are Soulsingers. What kind of Soulsinger are you?”

“Most of the Ghost Hounds are Soulsingers,” Libicocco responded. “I am not a Soulsinger. I’m a Fateweaver.”

“A Fateweaver?” Mags had never heard that term before.

“I can read the threads of Fate and how they interact with the world around me.”

“Like . . . see the future?” Mags asked.

Libicocco sighed. “Not quite. It’s a little more complicated than that. I’m the one who led us to the Deep that would have the Angel’s egg. However, I was not able to see the threads that attached the egg to you. I am able to manipulate the threads, if I can properly read them. But it’s not an exact science.”

Mags had a million more questions about Fateweaving and the strange magic Libicocco wielded. But it was clear that the woman didn’t have the patience for any further questions. Libicocco growled and muttered something about being late, striding towards the door to the library. She snatched a couple of books off the shelves before exiting the room.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Libicocco led her out of the library and up to the top deck, where Malacoda lounged in the far corner, his cloak wrapped around him like a protective cocoon. He was munching on a plum and happily humming himself a tune.

“I’ll leave you with Malacoda for your next lesson,” Libicocco said, her voice measured as always. “Good luck.” And with that she turned and strode away.

Malacoda barely glanced up as Mags approached, his eyes half-closed in that perpetual state of laziness he seemed to enjoy. He yawned, stretching like a cat, before finally looking at her.

“So,” he said, his tone casual, taking one last bite of the plum before tossing it over the side of the ship, “what do you know about Yggdrasil?”

Mags hesitated. “It’s... how Soulsingers use their powers, right?”

Malacoda smirked. “That’s the gist of it. But if you ask the scholarly types, they’ll spin you all sorts of tales about how it works. Truth is, no one really gets Yggdrasil. Not really. It’s a system, that’s all that matters. We’re granted access to it, and in return, we can use magic. Sarto and Libicocco both believe you have access to it, so let’s find out.”

Mags nodded slowly.

Malacoda sat up. “Now, focus . . . try to clear your mind. Your intent should be on Yggdrasil. Think only of that. Once you think you’re focused enough, try to will it to ‘open’ or will yourself to ‘access’ it.” He frowned. “I’m not best at instructions. That sounds ridiculous, but let’s give it a go and see what happens.”

Mags didn’t think his instructions sounded ridiculous at all. She remembered her old teachings about focus, about intent. Meditation was something she’d practiced when she was younger—focusing her thoughts on a single object, a single purpose. She closed her eyes, centering herself, and tried to will her mind towards the thought of Yggdrasil. She had no idea what Yggdrasil actually meant, but she focused as hard as she could, letting her thoughts sink deeper. Open, she thought.

Then, suddenly, a tingling sensation crawled through her mind, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She opened her eyes at the haptic tingling. Silver, flowing script forming in the top corner of her vision, dancing like fireflies across the air.

Access Granted: Yggdrasil

Soulsinger Designation: Magdalena

Class: Angelic Host (Type: Unassigned)

She gasped and reached out, instinctively trying to touch the symbols, but her hand passed through them, nothing more than air. Malacoda chuckled from beside her.

“Yeah, you can’t touch it. That’s all in your head.” He leaned back against the railing, watching her with mild amusement. “Each person who can access Yggdrasil has their own interface. That’s what the scholars call it. The scholars debate what happens ‘beneath’ it, but for us? All we need to know is how to use it. What does yours say?”

Mags blinked at the floating script, feeling a mix of awe and confusion. She recited the words to Malacoda.

“Angelic Host,” Malacoda repeated, chewing on the words. “That is interesting!”

“Is there any way for others to see this?” Mags asked. “If so, it may be hard to keep secret.”

“There are methods for scanning individuals with connections to Yggdrasil, but that’s typically limited to a person’s Attributes. Only you can see your own high level, basic information.”

Mags knew Angelic Host wasn’t one of the traditional Soulsinger Classes. She thought back to her lessons at Soulgrave House. The generally accepted Classes were Evoker, Conjurer, Forger, Bonesinger and Navigator.

“How many Classes are there, really?” Mags asked.

“That’s a trick question,” Malacoda sniffed. “Not counting Guides, there are four: Conjurer, Forger, Evoker, and Bonesinger. But, it gets a little more complicated.” He wagged a finger at her. “First, there are Classes that are not truly Soulsinger Classes. Like yours.”

“And what about Fateweaving?”

“Ah, I see you’ve been getting Libi to open up a bit.” Malacoda smirked. “Fateweavers use a form of Old Magic. Kind of like the Ivaldi. What Libicocco does is entirely outside of Yggdrasil’s system. But you’re on the right track. There are non-Soulsinging types of magic that can still . . . tap into Yggdrasil’s interface. Like Necromancy. Nasty stuff, but with enough similarities to the principals of Soulsinging that necromancers can access the system.”

“So, there are non-Soulsinger Classes that have access to Yggdrasil?”

“Bingo! You’re keeping up wonderfully. But additionally, there are unique sub-Classes to each Soulsinger Class, which Yggdrasil dubs ‘types.’ You mentioned Yggdrasil noted something about a type for your Class?”

“It says the type is ‘unassigned’.”

“That’s pretty common in lower-leveled Soulsingers. While it is possible for Yggdrasil to provide someone with a type off the rip, typically the system will grant access to a type after you’ve grown stronger. Sometimes it even grants a user a choice from a selection of types. That’s what happened to me!”

Mags was trying to take in all the information, some of which she had heard before but a long time ago, and some of which was brand new. “So, what type of Soulsinger are you?”

“I’m multi-classed into both Evoker and Forger,” Malacoda said. “My Forger subclass is called ‘Fisherman,’ and my Evoker subclass is something known as a ‘Chaotic Titan.’ Pretty neat sounding, right?”

Chaotic Titan sounded wildly powerful. Why did Sarto need her to kill the Emperor, when she had a Chaotic Titan eager to fight the strongest opponents without a care about who was morally right or wrong? “That does sound strong,” she admitted, lamely.

“Alrighty,” Malacoda powered forward. “Now, focus your intent again, but this time, try and focus it more specifically on your Attributes.”

Mags summoned her interface again, and then tried to do as Malacoda instructed. Attributes, she thought.

The silver script was replaced by a new flowing line of script, which scrolled down the upper right corner of her vision. She read the script aloud.

ATTRIBUTES

USER LEVEL: E-2

Physical Attributes:

Strength E-3 Dexterity E-2 Endurance E-4 Vitality E-6

Physical Sub-Level: E-3

Mental Attributes:

Intelligence E-1 Reactivity E-2 Perception E-1 Willpower E-2

Mental Sub-Level: E-1

Spiritual Attributes:

Power E-1 Reserves E-0 (Effective Attribute Value: E-3) Versatility E-1 Control E-1

Spiritual Sub-Level: E-1

“What does this all mean?” she asked.

“Yggdrasil tracks certain attributes of each user, and assigns certain levels to each attribute, which ultimately are reflected in an overall level for the user.”

“User Level: E-2. Is that good?” Mags recalled Bidelia had mentioned something about her own level, though couldn’t recall the specifics.

“That’s about average for a newly awakened Soulsinger. Though, it’s kind of artificially elevated due to your Physical Attributes.”

“What do you mean?” Using her eye, she focused her intent and focused the script on the portion under the sub-heading ‘Physical Attributes.’

“The scholarly types are always trying to understand the various numbers underlying the Attribute levels. That’s boring! What you need to understand is that Yggdrasil gives everything a level. These range from E through Triple S, and within each of those levels are one through nine. Nine being the highest. So, an E-2 is the second lowest User Level a Soulsinger could be assigned.”

“For the most part, my physical attributes are all above E-2,” Mags said.

“Correct! An average human, not connected to Yggdrasil and with no magic, will be the equivalent of an E-1 or E-2 when it comes to physical and mental attributes. You’re well above those levels, which is awesome!”

Mags thought about her strength attribute, which had a score of E-3. “I don’t feel any stronger, or any different, actually,” she said, flexing her hands and forearms.

“That’s a common misunderstanding. Attribute levels reflect reality. They don’t impart it. Attributes are a numerical representation of what you have already achieved. Beginners always think if a certain Attribute has gone up, then it means they’ve been granted enhanced ability in that Attribute. Unfortunately, it just means they’ve already put in the work to achieve the increased skill level. You improve your Attributes like anything else: use and training.”

“So, before I even Awakened, I had the equivalent of an E-6 in Vitality?” she asked. Whatever that actually means.

“Exactly. And most newly Awakened Soulsingers overall Level is usually close to an E-2. They are usually more balanced, with equal values across the board. Your Physical Attributes are above average, but your Spiritual Attributes are all lacking, even compared to the run-of-the-mill new Soulsinger.”

“Fantastic,” Mags said. She paused on her Mental Attributes. “An E-1 in Intelligence. Rude.”

“Almost everyone has an E-1 in that Attribute. It’s rare to see an E-2 upon Awakening. It doesn’t really have anything to do with how smart a person is. It measures the ability to take in and process information, which is a little more narrowly defined.”

“Speaking of which, can you give me a primer on what each of these Attributes means?”

Malacoda paused. Then, he sheepishly scratched the back of his head before straightening and clearing his throat. “I suppose that would be a good idea. Sorry, I’m not much of a teacher. Didn’t really excel in a formal academic setting, you know?” His eyes quickly shone with a silver light, and Mags realized he was accessing his own interface. “Let’s begin from the top.”