“I win.”
“You owe me a storm giant.” Grandpa Lich spat, scowled, and threw his arm toward the Tower in a rude gesture. “Now, get your vassals and go to sleep. The graduation ceremony is tomorrow.”
I fought back my grin and bowed as he stepped off into a nearby shadow. Leaving me in the dead, cold forest with a permanent, prideful smile plastered across my face while I waited for my vassals to trickle in one by one. Together, we returned to my wing on the guest floor to celebrate our years of hard work coming to a fruitful end. We ate, shared stories, took turns playing music and singing, and laughed at Toril and Jaimess’ comical dancing until the sun began to rise over the Mortal Plane. Much like the students on the floors below, celebrating their upcoming graduation from the prestigious Corvus Academy.
I awoke around noon and made myself a quick breakfast before emerging from my wing. Only to take an immediate step back inside.
“So many people.” I groaned, peering beyond the edge of my private threshold. Parents and families; hundreds of them, were strewn all about the guest floor. Migrating in and out of the rows of shade elevators or flocking around the hundreds of wings and annexes lining the expansive perimeter of the floor. Before I turned around, some were even approaching the edge of my ‘driveway’ to pay their respects. Hastily, I bowed back into my wing and sealed the crowd of expectant and excited faces behind the door. And with a deep sigh of relief, I assumed my Wraith Form to ascend to the upper floors in private.
“Pardon the intrusion,” I said after briskly knocking and stepping into my Grandfather’s office.
“I have nothing more to teach you, Amun.” He grunted without even shying his eyes away from whatever he was writing.
“Except proper necromancy, that is.” I snorted.
A cold gaze darted up to me and immediately settled back down on the few papers scattered over his desk. “Once you graduate from the academy and learn to raise undead on your own, you will learn higher necromancy. For now.” He sighed. “You are to return home. But only after the ceremony.”
‘Still salty, I see.’ I internally chuckled, lowering myself in a formal bow. “Thank you for everything, Grandpa Lich.” I genuinely smiled. "I had fun."
“Yeah, yeah.” He dismissively waved, his gaze still focused on his desk.
With that, I descended to the 72nd floor; to the tinkerers’ workshop, wherein I found Jaimess barring the six candidates' entry from the place.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace." They bowed in unison upon my appearance.
“Jaimess.” I nodded to him, then to the rest. “Everyone. Congratulations on your imminent graduation from Corvus Academy, and on making it to the final round of our competition. As always.” I continued after a short pause. “I’ll be taking my time to go over each display. The caveat, however, is that I’ll be announcing the winners during tonight’s ceremony. Regardless of who wins.” I added with a raised finger. “Remember that one day, I will return to Odissi to recruit people for my guild. Missing this chance is not the end of the road. So.” I gave a closing bow. “Thank you for all of your efforts. And I will see you all tonight.”
“Yes, Your Grace!” They resolutely bowed before slowly scattering. Leaving Jaimess and me by our lonesome.
“We’re departing for Deap Ridge tomorrow morning.” I turned to him. “Tell the others to have their things packed and to get as much rest as possible, both before and after the ceremony. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
“Of course.” He curtly nodded, then stepped off down the hall at a brisk pace. Leaving me in a perfect environment to assess the displays.
I stepped in to see more of an empty classroom setting rather than the modulated workshop they’d been working in thus far. The space contained only six display cases, placed side-by-side. Each with a small glass case on the right side, containing four watches and a coat rack beside it, while the spaces behind them were reserved for the larger creations.
As it’d been the first year and every round thereafter, each candidate had been instructed to transcribe the features of their creations and chose a number that was to be kept between themselves and Jaimess. Jaimess would then transcribe those summaries in his own handwriting, and add them with the numbers associated with each anonymous display. Reducing the potential for biases or favoritism to come into play during the judging process. Thus the judgment was as blind as could be.
As for the bills themselves, I gave them instructions even a troglodyte could understand. Yet they would test all they learned in the three fields of watchmaking, tailoring, and engineering. All they were told was to make it with the highest possible quality. But of course, there was more to the criteria. Namely, bonus points would be given for aesthetics and creativity. Something that few seemed to take into consideration in the first couple of years, much to my disappointment. I was all for things being functional, but aesthetics were just as important. Only the most industrialist of people would openly choose an ugly something that worked simply, over a beautiful creation that simply worked. Something that the tinkerers began to realize for themselves, as time went on.
As planned, I was now faced with the best the graduating class had to offer. Making me all the more excited to finally decide who my little tinkerers would be.
For my would-be tailor, I had them design a conceptual equipment loadout and uniform design for my future guild. Of the six, five of them ranged from outlandish armor and hefty bags to a simple but beautiful quilted tunic, trousers, and bug-out bag combo; though, it was the sixth one that particularly stood out to me.
For all intents and purposes, it was exactly what I’d envisioned when I pictured a member of my guild: Something along the lines of a magical, modern soldier. The clothes were similar to my garb. The bottom consisted of a pair of somewhat baggy, gray pants, tucked into a pair of black suede, minimalist boots. On top, was a silken shirt with quilted stitches, yet the sleeves were made of some type of tough, denim-like material and fashioned with sew-in points for patches, insignia, and name tags. It was essentially a combat shirt. Meant to be worn under whatever armor the individual favored. It even came with a dress version, adorned with gilded accents along the shoulders and collar.
What was most interesting, however, were the accessories the uniform came with. The creator seemed to not only guess that I intended for these designs to be enchanted at some point, but they also took the suggestions and techniques I deposited on all the competitors to heart. The result of their drive was a rather compact rucksack with a duffel-style opening strapped to an ergonomic frame. On the front was a medium-sized pouch with a smaller one placed on top of it, both secured by leather-wrapped buckles and lined with MOLLE webbing along the front and sides, greatly expanding the overall functionality of the piece. On top of that, they went above and beyond by providing a canteen and all its accessories, as well as the three greatest inventions known to humankind. The foldable stool. The poncho. And the beloved poncho liner. Or as I called it, the Woobie.
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Naturally, number 16, whoever they were, was now my new tailor. And so, I dragged their displays into my Pocket and moved on to pick the one who would be both my horologist and lapidarist.
I moved through the displays, picking each watch up in hand to closely inspect and study each model in turn before I even started to make my decision. Like the uniforms, they ranged from elegantly simple designs to the complete and polar opposite. However, riding on the high of choosing my tailor raised my standards. Thus I quickly found myself going through the cases a second time in search of something… more. And it didn’t take long to find.
It was a rather unremarkable watch, from a distance. Composed of an unremarkable leather band attached to a mildly detailed, gunmetal-gray bezel filled with similarly colored symbols, numbers, and dials. Upon closer inspection, however, I saw more functions than I ever expected to see in a watch made in this Renaissance-esque society. In addition to the basic function of a watch, a silent alarm had been integrated into the rotating bezel. And it boasted two miniature dials placed in the center of the face, with a full calendar on the left and a stopwatch on the right. The most fascinating feature of all, however, was the sun tracker. A two-toned ring was placed just outside the ring of numbers. Blue on the top, gold on the bottom, with a small, silver hand with which to track the sun's movements.
As eagerly as I’d done the last, I pulled number 7’s display into my Pocket before turning my attention to the last category.
For the last bill, I decided to give my future Chief-Engineer creative freedom. With that freedom, nearly all of them managed to create a plethora of tools I would only use sparingly, if at all. Things like armor, weapons, or musical instruments. All but one individual.
It was, by far, the largest thing in the room; including the displays themselves. A long, wide, and sleek carriage made of intricately carved blackwood with brass inlays. When standing next to it, it looked more like a tall limousine in wagon form than a carriage. Only chopped in half to resemble more of a curiously long sports coupe, complete with a sharply angled cockpit with rails and reigns protruding from the front. By estimates, it had to be at least two meters wide and five long from the 'trunk' to the front of the cockpit, though not as tall to permit me to stand inside comfortably.
According to the extensive description, it was a dual-powered carriage made to be as light and sturdy as possible while retaining the maximum amount of space and comfort. While it could be drawn by a beast, it was also steam-powered. And as far as amenities go, it included a meditation loft for me at the rear of the carriage, with seating for four inside and for another two in the sealed cockpit upfront. ‘Surely a must-have for riding through the snow-capped lands of Odissi.’ They wrote. In addition to the interior furnishings, storage pockets, and chests installed all along the in and outsides, however, it also boasted an outdoor kitchenette in the trunk; complete with a sink, a few hot plates, a refrigerator box, and an oven. All enchanted for my convenience.
“It’s perfect.” I grinned. Stuffing number 39’s creation in my Pocket.
With my decisions finalized, I took a final look at the other displays to commit them all to memory before making my way up to the guest floor, Full Wraith Form enabled in order to bypass the masses of families mingling with each other.
Entering my wing, I took my own advice and began stuffing the few things I kept out in the open into my Pocket. On top of that were things that weren’t necessarily ‘mine.’ Innocuous or easily replaceable things like towels, flowerpots, furniture, rugs, tapestries, and a whole lot of food. Once done, I joined my vassals in lounging in my wing until the masses began to migrate to the amphitheater. And after a bit of waiting, we followed them to the 22nd floor to loiter until the ceremony began.
---
“Friends, families, and citizens of Deapou and Odissi, welcome to Corvus Academy, and give a round of caws to her One Hundred Ninety-Fifth graduating class!” Grandpa Lich spread his arms before the thousands of spectators present in the amphitheater. Eliciting an ear-throbbing roar of bird-like caws to bounce along the walls and concentrate on our position on stage. It seemed that was the norm instead of clapping. Here, at least.
“Class One Nine Five is unmatched by any class of students to come before them.” Grandpa declared once the roar died down, nearly causing another outburst to arise. “Each of the five hundred fifty-six graduates you see before you can out-pace any of their peers across both Deapou and Odissi in knowledge, wisdom, physical might, and elemental practice. And, I dare say, that claim could be extended to include all of Maru!” He exclaimed, ceremoniously tossing his arm up into the sky before leaning back over the podium to gently growl into the microphone equivalent. “These words are no mere boast. Only pure facts The reason?” He threw his arm back in a gesture toward me, sitting behind him. “Amun, the Grand Duke of Odissi, shall explain!”
‘Throwing me to the wolves again.’ I internally grinned as I rose from my seat and studied the sea of roaring faces on my way to the podium. It was a daunting task, for sure. Or it would’ve been for someone who hadn’t lived for as long as I have. Either way…
‘I accept the challenge.’ I allowed my grin to surface as my arms came to a rest on the podium. Then took a long look at the crowd to allow the excitable roar to die down to a curious murmur before softly clearing my throat into the enchantment. “For the last four years, me and my vassals, Toril O’Connell, Jaimess A. Corey, and Jonet Fischer, have been living and learning alongside your sons and daughters; your brothers and sisters; your friends and families, here in Corvus Tower. Throughout these four years, we’ve come to know them on a personal level. But not as friends.
"Each student you see before you has devoted his or herself to extracurricular training at the end of each day; both on days they had classes and on their off days. That training was done under the supervision of my vassals and I.” I gestured behind me. “The result of that training is five-hundred-fifty-six graduates who are experienced and expertly trained in martial combat. Five hundred fifty-six individuals with such proficiency in elemental manipulation that they are of flight sustained flight with air and fire; that they can fuse the elements to manipulate dust and mud and steam and snow.
“Additionally.” I leaned into the ‘mic,’ still smiling wide. “A few of these students have been engaged in competition with each other to see who will become my personal tailor, watchmaker, and engineer. So, without further adieu.” I spread my arms to my sides. “Will contestant numbers sixteen, seven, and thirty-nine, please come to the stage.”
With the expenditure of my words, a rolling thunder of murmurs erupted in the theater. Prompting the sea of heads to begin darting from side to side at a furious pace and eventually settle upon a single individual. A girl, bubbly bursting forth from her seat with a loud squeak of excitement before waddling up to the stage, visibly fighting back from leaning into an all-out sprint up to the podium. Following her motion was a far calmer individual who nonchalantly ignored the sea of stares aimed at him while he waltzed up to the front. And behind him, was an all-too-familiar face whose gaze was nervously darting across the sea of eyes focused on him as he shuffled towards me.
The rise of noise from the crowd grew to a crescendo of supportive caws once they made it up here and knelt before me. I then took a second to let the crowd die down a bit before saying. “Introduce yourselves.”
“I am contestant number sixteen, Your Grace.” The nonchalant one lowered his head a bit before looking up at me with green eyes full of conviction. He was of a slim and tall build, even for someone our age. His red-brown skin was a canvas for a sea of freckles scattered across a mildly androgynous face. Though, most notable of all was the curly red-brown hair styled into a pompadour. “I, Giorno Nojo, swear on my very soul to serve you to the best of my abilities as your tailor. I do this for the rest of my days. And long after.”
“I, Letta Sinclare; contestant number seven, swear fealty to Your Grace, Amun. In both life and death, I will serve as your keeper of time and cutter of gems.” The bubbly one declared next. A young lady with a short and thick build, for lack of a better description. She was built like a softball player; or like a future lunch lady with her perpetually joyful smile. Big-boned and full of muscle. With light, tan skin and brown hair tight tightly around a rather big head into a neat bun.
“I.” The last, instantly recognizable one stammered. “I am contestant number thirty-nine. Edward Pascal. I…” He stammered again. Huffed and seemed to grasp onto some sort of resolve or conviction before calming himself, looking up to me and saying. “I declare my undying loyalty to Your Grace. I will strive to do my best as your chief engineer and bring your ideas into creation.”
“Giorno. Letta. Edward.” I spread my arms out to them. “Stand.” I gestured for them to face the crowd and receive the full brunt of the waves of cheer and applause directed at them for a few moments while I studied their reactions. And their Mana Wells. Then, I motioned for them to settle next to my vassals before I returned my attention to the crowd and leaned into the microphone for one final word.