Askula Village was too large for the name, by Amarl’s reckoning. He’d grown up in Tem, a true village, with a couple hundred inhabitants, most of them miners and all but Amarl members of the naluni race, the massively dominant race in the Empire. The entire “village” of Tem existed along a single road, with some homes set farther back and a dozen or so farms surrounding it. Tem had one blacksmith, one baker, one chandler, and so on, so anyone who needed anything had a single place to go to.

Askula Village had to have a thousand people living within its walls, which to Amarl meant that it was a town, not a village. Even the name suggested it: villages in the Umpratan Empire all had names exactly three letters long. Cities had six to eight, depending on their size and importance, and towns had four or five. Of course, the village wasn’t nearly big enough to be a city, as its name suggested. He’d only ever seen the city of Devald, which he passed through on his way to Askula, but it was much bigger than the village. Still, the village had three bakers, four blacksmiths, two goldsmiths—there was actual competition for goods and services, which to Amarl’s mind made it a town, at least.

The trio of friends passed through the gate in the wall surrounding the village, a wall that made no sense to Amarl. No one who wasn’t an ithtar could enter Askula, so who was the wall meant to keep out? Members of the Order? The four-reach-high wall was tall enough to look imposing, but Amarl knew several older students who could leap it easily, or even fly across it. The thick, wooden gates could be sealed with a heavy crossbeam—and a single ithtar with a strength ability and a hammer or axe, or any student with a fire ability could get through it in no time. Hells, a student with an earth ability could open a hole in the walls or even collapse them back onto the people inside. No, walls weren’t a barrier to the Order, just a minor obstacle at best. That begged the question of why the walls existed, but Amarl didn’t really care enough to ask anyone who might know.

They stepped into Galiber’s Bakery, their usual first stop, and paused to enjoy the scents of baking bread and warm pastries that filled the air. A few students were already in the bakery, but the place was never really packed. Most of the students preferred to spend the day at the fair, or in the beerhall or winery. Amarl hoped to visit both of those, as well, but it was too early for alcohol, at least for him. Besides, he knew he’d probably need the drink after spending a day shopping with Meder.

“Amarl!” A hearty voice boomed in the quiet bakery, and Amarl looked past the counter to see Galiber raising a hand in greeting. “Meder! Burik! My favorite customers!” The pudgy, slightly balding man wore a flour-covered apron and had more flour covering his upraised hand.

“Any customer who spends money is your favorite one, Galiber,” Amarl laughed.

“Yes, but since the three of you come in here every Akio, you’re my most favorite.” Galiber was a friendly, open man who never seemed to frown—at least not where his customers could see it—and Amarl genuinely liked him. Plus, while Secosur, one of the other bakers in town, honestly made better breads in Amarl’s opinion, Galiber’s sweet pastries were unmatched in the village.

“So, I hear that the three of you graduated,” he said heartily. “Congratulations!”

“We did,” Meder smiled at the man. “The new term starts tomorrow. I’m so excited to start crafting lessons!”

“You’ve decided your craft, then?” He grinned at the three. “Let me see if I can guess what you picked.” He looked thoughtfully at Meder, rubbing his chin and smearing flour on it unknowingly. “For you, I’m thinking either engineering or alchemy. Am I right?”

“Alchemy,” she replied brightly. “I’ve wanted to try it for years, but I never thought I’d actually get to.”

“Expensive craft, but an important one.” He turned to Burik. “You’re easy. Blacksmithing.”

“Yeah,” the larger boy grinned. “How did you know?”

“You’re built for it, for sure, and you’re fascinated with weapons.” He chuckled. “Besides, you’ve pestered every smith in town to let you watch them work, and word spreads.” He turned to Amarl. “Not sure what I see you doing, boy.”

Amarl shrugged. “I’m not, either, Galiber. I suppose I’ll figure it out, though.” He smiled at the man. “Maybe I should try baking.”

“You should!” Galiber laughed easily. “It’s a fine craft, and the world needs bakers as much as it needs armorers and alchemists—more, probably!”

The three bought their breakfasts and headed out into the village, toward the central commons. The weekly fair beckoned them with strains of bright music and fluttering pennants, and they joined a steadily growing stream of other students wandering into the village. The passed through a low, white-painted fence into a large, grassy area ringed with local merchants and crafters. Some had little more than a table displaying their wares; others set up entire tents with display cases to show off their goods. The moment they entered the area, merchants began calling out to them, urging them to buy their wares. The noise and crowd nearly overwhelmed Amarl when he’d first come to the fair, but after a year, he was more or less used to it.

“Stick together, or split up?” Burik asked, looking around at the booths.

“It’s early,” Meder said. “If we split up, we’ll be done before lunchtime.”

“Stick together it is, then,” Amarl nodded. “Where to first?”

“This way,” Meder gestured toward one of the nearest tables. An older woman stood behind it, holding out what looked like a long dress and calling to the girls that passed by. As she saw Meder heading her way, she smiled and set the fabric down.

“My dear, are you looking for clothing?” the woman asked brightly.

“Yes,” Meder nodded, sliding her fingers along one of the long gowns. “But not a dress. I’m looking for an outfit for Akios, one I could…”

The next couple hours passed slowly for Amarl, as they usually did. He had no real interest in the fair, in all honesty. There wasn’t much that he or any of the students truly needed. The academy provided his clothing and food, and unlike Meder and Burik, he was perfectly fine wearing his uniform on Akio. The material was better than the castoffs he’d grown up wearing in Tem by a large margin, and while the uniform proclaimed him a novice, nothing he wore was going to offer him any sort of anonymity, anyway. Even if he or Burik bought weapons, they had no opportunity to use them, even in training. About the only thing that drew his eye was the food and drink stalls, and those were where the few coins he spent went each week.

That didn’t mean that the fair was a waste for him, though. His highest-ranked skills were social ones—Seduction, Deception, and Persuasion—and the fair was a fantastic training ground for those skills. While the others searched the wares put before them, Amarl spent his time talking to the vendors and, more specifically, their assistants. He chatted amiably with them, befriending those he could and flirting whenever possible. He learned a great deal about the village that way—and more importantly, about the assistants’ masters. He learned whose products were what they said they were, whose weren’t, and who offered the best of everything. He couldn’t buy much yet, but when it finally made sense for him to, he planned to get the best possible value for his money.

He stood to the side of a table, watching as a young woman maybe two summers older than him cut and trimmed the leaves off a tall plant, collecting them in a wicker basket placed beneath it. The dark green leaves were small and had jagged, serrated edges that made them look dangerous, but they fluttered gently into the basket in a way that made him think they were actually pretty soft and pliable. The woman’s cuts were slow, careful, and methodical, placed with exacting care using a small pair of gleaming scissors.

“…be extremely delicate harvesting the leaves of summer’s grace,” the woman spoke in a low, almost hushed voice as she worked. She pointed with the scissors to a bulge in the stalk connecting a leaf to the main plant. “See this? It acts like a valve, keeping the sap from flowing backward down into the main stem. That’s how it can get so tall.”

“Do trees have something like that, then?” he asked curiously.

She laughed softly. “No, trees use a whole other mechanism to carry nutrients into the crown, but they’re also a lot more advanced than summer’s grace. It’s a pretty primitive plant, and most of its cousins died out over time because they couldn’t compete with the tall grasses for sunlight and the attention of pollinators. It survived because of this adaptation, but it’s not enough to let it really thrive. That makes it pretty rare.”

She laid the scissors on the leaf stalk, placing them carefully in the center of the bulge. “See, the trick is to cut right in the middle of the valve. That keeps sap and water from leaking out of the leaf.”

“Couldn’t you just cut right below it to get the same effect?”

“Yes, but then sap leaks out of the main plant, which can cause wilting and make the rest of the leaves on the plant unsuitable for harvesting for at least a week.” She closed the scissors gently. “But if you cut right down the middle…” The scissors came together, and a leaf floated delicately to the basket below. The cut stalk glistened wetly, but Amarl noticed that nothing seemed to be leaking out of it. The woman smiled. “Then you can harvest as much as you need without damaging the plant. It’s all about taking your time and being slow and careful.”

“That’s impressive,” he smiled at the woman as he squatted down to examine a leaf without touching it. “You’ve obviously worked hard to get good at this.”

She returned his smile and blushed slightly. “I try. Master Kenorig is much more knowledgeable, though. He can tell you all about these things if you’re interested.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Yes, but then I’d be taking him away from customers.” He waved toward the main table, where Meder and an older man with hair going silver argued back and forth about what looked to Amarl like pieces of grass. He gave the girl beside him a direct look. “Besides, you’re much more pleasant to talk with—and to be around.”

She blushed again, lowering her chin and looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Are you really interested in herbology?” she asked with slight hesitation.

“Yes,” he replied with total honesty. “I’m supposed to choose a crafting skill this year, and I have no idea what I’ll pick. I figure, the more I know about each of them, the better a decision I can make.” He paused deliberately before reaching out and laying a hand on her forearm, lightly touching her to establish a connection without being too forward while giving her an easy way to reject his touch by simply moving her arm out of the way. When she allowed his fingers to rest against her skin, he silently exulted.

“However, I have to admit, I also wanted to spend some time getting to know you,” he said in a deeper voice, leaning slightly toward her. “Maybe sometime, we could get together for a drink, and you could tell me more about herbology—and about yourself…”

The girl’s eyes suddenly widened in alarm a fraction of a second before something grabbed the back of Amarl’s uniform and yanked, hauling him off his feet. He felt himself flung backward, and as he fell, his reflexes kicked in. He rolled with the movement, flipping over his shoulder and landing in a crouch, then dove backward again. He was glad he did as a foot sailed through the space where his head would have been. He scrambled to his feet, settling his body into the base position of Water Form in case he was attacked again, and finally got a glimpse of his attacker.

“Gowen,” he said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Seriously?”

“Did you think I’d let this go, you—you—half-breed?” The older boy stood in a ready stance of his own, one from a form Amarl didn’t recognize. He wore the same clothing he had earlier in the day, and his dark brown hair looked rumpled and tousled. His eyes were wide and furious, and one of them sported a reddened lump that would probably become a bruise by the end of the day. Amarl had to work to keep a grin off his face; it looked like not only had Gowen not made peace with Nolla, but she’d given him the makings of a splendid black eye—one that, sadly, would probably be healed and vanished in a day thanks to the accelerated healing all ithtaru possessed.

“I kind of hoped so, yeah,” Amarl finally said.

“Then you’re an idiot as well as a filthy mongrel!” the older boy hissed, the sound loud in the sudden silence surrounding them.

“Look, Gowen,” Amarl said, lowering his hands and relaxing from his stance, “you don’t want to do this. Not really.”

“Oh, but I do,” Gowen practically purred.

“Are you sure?” Amarl gestured at the crowd surrounding them. “You want to start a fight with a student from a lower year without any provocation—in front of all these people?”

Gowen glanced around and suddenly looked unsure, but while he didn’t attack, he didn’t drop from his stance, either. “You have to pay for what you’ve done, mongrel,” he said, his voice somewhat less menacing.

Amarl shook his head. “Your problem isn’t with me, Gowen. It’s with Nolla, and this won’t fix it. It’ll probably make it worse, in fact.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed, and his body relaxed as he fully moved into his stance. Amarl shifted his weight, ready to counter an attack, but before Gowen could strike, another figure broke from the crowd and moved toward the pair. The new student was female, as tall as the older boy but far more heavily muscled, and moved with the unconscious grace of a skilled fighter. She stepped between the pair, facing the older boy with her hands outstretched.

“Gowen, don’t be a fool,” she said in a voice that was higher and thinner than Amarl had expected from such a large person.

“Robla, this half-breed…” Gowen began, but the girl gave him no chance to speak.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re already on unsteady ground with Awal Sohathat after that fiasco this morning. You want to get banned from hunting? Stuck mucking stables every morning for the next three moons?” She leaned closer. “Expelled?”

The boy’s face blanched, and he lowered his hands. “Fine,” he said. He looked past the girl’s shoulder at Amarl and pointed a finger. “This isn’t over, half-breed!”

As Gowen turned and stalked off, the crowd parting to let him pass, Amarl heaved a sigh of relief and looked at the newcomer. “Hey, thanks for stepping in. I appreciate…” He broke off as the girl moved faster than he expected, appearing suddenly in front of him, towering over him. He forced himself not to take an unconscious step backward, but he still swallowed hard at the speed she’d demonstrated.

“Shut the fuck up, you disgusting half-breed,” the girl growled threateningly. “I didn’t do it for you. I’d have happily let Gowen beat the shit out of you. In fact, if it weren’t for the fucking awals…” Her fists clenched, and Amarl moved into his stance once more, not that he was sure it would matter. As fast as the girl moved, he didn’t know if his passive ability would be of much use except to hopefully let him survive a beating.

“Is there a problem, here, Robla?”

Amarl almost let out a sigh of relief at the familiar voice that spoke over his shoulder and risked a glance around. Meder stood to his right, her face hard and her fingers dancing as she apparently prepared a sahr working. Burik had appeared to his left and behind the girl, his body loose and his weight balanced as he readied himself to use his Military Boxing form. Best of all, Andra stood behind him, her arms crossed over her chest and her face deceptively calm.

The girl didn’t look all that dangerous, standing only as tall as Amarl with a muscled but slight frame, her light brown hair pulled back from her light-skinned face in a ponytail. Robla, though, stiffened and took a step back as she saw the smaller student. Most other students walked carefully around Andra; her ability was ranked at the high end of Tier C, making it significantly stronger than most, and it was hard to counter. The girl could slow her enemies’ passage through time, making them not only move and react but actually think and perceive more slowly. Someone like Robla, whose ability obviously gave her enhanced speed of some sort, would find Andra an impossible opponent, since the smaller girl could utterly negate Robla’s powers with a thought.

“Nothing that concerns you, Andra,” she said cautiously. “Just talking to the hizeen, here.”

“He’s a friend of mine, so I’d say it concerns me,” Andra said easily, moving to stand slightly in front of Amarl, forcing Robla back a step.

The bigger girl’s eyes narrowed. “You know, I’ve always wondered if you’re as good as everyone says you are. Might be interesting to find out.”

“I’d be happy to show you, Robla, anytime you’d like to meet at Halit. You won’t like it, but that’s your problem, not mine.” Andra’s face went flat, and her voice lowered so that only Amarl and Robla could hear it. “Unless you want to make it my problem, Robla. Say, by threatening my friends—the way Nihos did.”

Robla’s eyes widened, and her face paled as she took another step back. “You—you—did you just admit…?”

“I didn’t say anything, Robla. I just pointed out that people who threaten my friends sometimes have bad things happen to them, that’s all. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” Andra stepped closer, and the larger girl moved backward, her eyes wide. “Would you?”

Robla blinked and looked at Amarl with a sneer. “You’re not worth the trouble, half-breed,” she snarled before turning and stomping away.

“Thanks, Andra,” Amarl sighed, then winced as the girl’s hand slapped the back of his skull. Andra was a newly raised fourth-year and was one of the most skilled fighters in all of Askula, and the blow struck with a loud crack that made his ears ring for a second.

“Don’t thank me, idiot,” she said, shaking her head. “You deserved to get your ass beat. Part of me wants to find Gowen and suggest that he take this to Halit just to teach you a lesson.”

“What did Amarl do?” Burik asked as he walked closer. “He was just talking to the flower girl…”

“Do you really want me to answer that question, Burik?” Andra said dryly. She looked around at the crowd, who still stared at them. “Come on. None of us are going to get any shopping done for at least a couple hours. Let’s head to Sasofit’s and grab a beer or three. First one’s on me.” She gave Amarl a hard look. “Second round’s on you as a reminder to keep it in your damn pants.”

Sasofit’s Alehouse was crowded, as usual, but it was early enough that the four managed to get a high table together. Burik and Amarl both ordered a beer, while Meder chose a glass of red wine, and Andra chose the house ale. After their drinks came, the older girl gave Amarl a withering look.

“Nolla? Really?” she asked.

“Don’t blame me,” he said innocently. “She seduced me with her wiles.”

Andra snorted and rolled her eyes. “We both know it wasn’t her wiles that seduced you.” She took a sip of her ale. “I’ll admit that the girl’s got tits for days, but it was still stupid to lay with someone who’s seeing a fourth-year.”

“Amarl didn’t know that, though,” Meder said quickly. “He said that Nolla told him she was available.”

“Oh, she was available. That’s the problem. She’s far too available.” The older girl took another sip of her ale.

“Really, now?” Burik said thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Just how available is she?”

“Shut up, Burik.”

“Seriously, Andra, I did ask her about it,” Amarl protested. “She didn’t mention Gowen once.”

“Nolla’s a ridiculous flirt, Amarl,” she sighed. “She’s famous for using her—assets to manipulate people, getting her way with vague promises that she doesn’t bother to keep. She’s been stringing Gowen along for a year that way, making him believe that they’re an item when really, she just likes having a fourth-year cater to her whims.”

“Wait, you mean they aren’t actually sleeping together?” Amarl asked.

“Not from what Nolla says. I guess she expected him to get frustrated and give up at some point, but instead, he fell for her, and he’s convinced that she’s saving herself for him. Or, I guess, he was—until this morning, when he walked in to find the girl he thought was waiting for the perfect moment with him in bed with someone else.”

Amarl winced. “Shit,” he muttered as he realized that Gowen wasn’t about to simply let the matter slide. “I didn’t know any of that.”

“You should have,” Meder said a little primly.

“Just because you happen to know everyone’s gossip, Meder, doesn’t mean the rest of us want to,” he replied a little irritably.

“Not unless they’re planning to try to lay with half the girls in the academy,” she snapped back. “Then, knowing a little gossip might help.”

“Actually, I have to agree with Meder, here,” Burik said slowly. “Knowledge is the key to victory in any battle, Amarl. My mother always says, ‘Half of warfare is knowing your enemy’.”

“What’s the other half?” Amarl asked with a tight grin.

“She never says,” he shrugged.

“Using that knowledge, of course,” Meder replied. “What point is there to knowing your enemy if you don’t act on that knowledge?”

“Damn. That’s probably exactly right.” Burik shook his head. “I spent years trying to figure that out, Meder.”

“I don’t know that I’d called seduction a battle, exactly,” Andra grinned, “but the principles hold. Especially in a place like Askula, where you can’t just avoid problems you’ve created. Knowledge is everything.”

“Okay, point taken,” Amarl sighed. “I admit, I screwed up. Now, I have to figure out how to make it right.”

“I don’t think you can, Amarl. Best thing you can do is avoid Gowen and Robla as much as possible—and stay away from Nolla. Let things calm down on their own.” She took another drink from her ale, finishing the last of it, and the table lapsed into silence for several seconds.

“Looks like there’s another batch of candidates in the village,” Meder observed eventually, lifting her chin off to the side. Amarl looked over and saw a group of several young people sitting around a pair of tables, staring around in awe and fear. The potentials had broken up into two groups by caste; the obviously well-dressed zahai and shalai at one table, the poorer akorai, tagarai, and umanai at another. They sat in silence, sipping at drinks that they didn’t have to pay for and watching the crowd of students and instructors almost reverently.

“There’ll be a Joining tonight,” Andra sighed. “And since it’s a Naming Day Joining, we’ll all have to attend.”

“Wait, students attend the Joining ceremonies?” Meder asked. “I didn’t know that.”

“Second-years and above, and only the Naming Day one each year. Well, except fifth-years; they have to attend all of them.” Andra shuddered. “I’m not looking forward to that next year.”

“Great,” Amarl said darkly. “I’ve got a pair of fourth-years hating me, and tonight we have to watch people die.” He finished off his beer and set the mug on the table with more force than was strictly necessary, then gave Meder a sour look. “Still can’t wait for this year to start?”