“You mistake me, human. I vowed not to harm you. My people are bound by no such promise.”

-Warlord Hoga to Lord Protector Catigern Fallow at the War of Falstead, Lyonesse, circa 27,692 AC.

***

Professor Kelibrig helped Alvanue out of the carriage, though she felt like she ought to be the one doing the helping. He was still breathing heavily from his run to catch her and dabbing at his sweaty face with a soaked handkerchief.

She took the opportunity to look around while the professor conferred upfront with the carriage driver.

There were few people moving about but that was to be expected. She figured it would get a lot busier once classes were actually underway. Most of them were human from what she could see but there was the odd dwarf and ophidian mixed in with the bunch. Kelibrig came back round, interrupting her observation.

“This way, my lady,” he said, eyeing a pocket watch.

The building they stopped in front of was the most medieval thing she had seen in the city yet, a sturdy bastion of mossy, pockmarked stone, with turrets and thin arrow-slit windows. The professor stowed his watch away and gestured her toward the front door.

As they stepped into the dark interior of the hall, Alvanue unconsciously relaxed. It was much cooler inside than out. She hadn’t realized quite how much the change in seasons between Endrillond and Lyonesse had been affecting her. Compared to her homeland where winter ruled for most of the year, Lyonesse was enjoying the last gasps of summer. She peered around as they walked, hand trailing along the cold stone wall.

Noting her interest, Kelibrig explained that before the royal palace was constructed several centuries previous, St. Gildrin’s had once been the seat of the Lyonessean crown.

While many of the halls on campus were of much more modern design, built with donations from wealthy alumni and generous loans from the royal coffers, the Main Hall was one of the oldest structures in all of Avalon.

“Over two millenia old and it’s hardly needed any maintenance at all. Frightfully strong enchantments on the old girl, frightfully strong,” he said, a hint of pride coloring his words.

They walked under the soft glow of magelights for several minutes, the professor talking all the while, before stopping at a seemingly random door.

“Where are we going again?” Alvanue asked.

“First,” he said, “we must get you fitted for a uniform. Then we’ll head down to the registrar’s office to fill out some paperwork. After that, perhaps my lady would like a tour of the campus?”

A tour would be nice, but she would prefer to poke around St. Gildrin’s without the talkative old man hovering at her side. She made a noncommittal noise while Professor Kilibrig opened the door for her. Inside, a woman as tall and thin as the professor was short and round waited for her. The woman smiled widely and ushered Alvanue into the comfortably furnished room with a spidery-fingered hand.

“Hello, my dear. Needing a uniform, are we?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she responded, looking back at Professor Kilibrig for confirmation.

“I’ll be just outside, my lady. Good to see you, Winnifred,” he inclined his head towards the woman.

“Ta, Silban,” said Winnifred the tailor cheerily, already whipping out a measuring tape and wrapping it around Alvanue’s waist.

She hummed, mumbling numbers to herself as she worked her way around Alvanue’s body. First her waist, then her chest, her arms, even her neck.

“’Scuse me, Ms. Winnifred, right?” she asked.

“Just call me Winnifred, dear, or Winnie if you like,” the tailor said, not pausing in her work for a second.

“Okay, Winnifred then. Is this gonna take long?”

“Not at all! Why, I’m almost done!” the tailor chuckled.

“Wait, really?” Alvanue asked skeptically.

All the woman had done was take a few measurements. Now that she thought about it, Alvanue could not help but notice there was not a shred of fabric anywhere in the room but for the clothes they were wearing.

“All I need is one last bit-”, she knelt before Alvanue and held the tape against her leg, “-and that’s it!”

“That’s it? What about my uniform?”

“It’ll be sent over to that nice embassy you’re staying at. Now I know your size, won’t take me but an hour to have it ready.”

“You’re pretty quick.”

“Of course! It’s my job after all. Now, I do want to go over a few options with you. Silban mentioned you’ve expressed interest in the Mage Program, so how do we feel about a nice western pilos in midnight blue, hmm?”

They briefly went over acceptable modifications for her school uniform before she was ushered out of the room. Winnifred the tailor pressed a hand to the small of her back and all but pushed her out the door.

“Now run along, I’ve sewing to do!”

Professor Kelibrig was waiting for her as he had said in the corridor, head bent once more over his watch. It snapped up at the sound of Winnie wishing Alvanue a good day.

“Always speedy, that one,” the professor said approvingly. “Right, next stop, the registrar. This way, my lady, follow me.”

She followed Professor Kelibrig down a spiral staircase at the end of the hall, leading deep into the side of the hill St. Gildrin’s was built atop.

The magelights here were staggered, leaving deep pools of shadow intermittently along the steps. She could see perfectly well in the dark but with the gloom and the scent of wet stone in the air she would have thought the professor was taking her down to the dungeon rather than the college’s administrative wing.

After exiting onto a dim corridor, she was shown into a stuffy office with an equally stuffy old woman sitting behind an massive writing desk.

“Full legal name,” said the woman without a word of greetings. Her tone brooked no argument. The placard facing Alvanue read ‘Madam Ragnell’.

“It’s, uh, Alvanue anonduin Sildathlene Nalendril Githanduin ulore Silthondrim elvoquendi Endrilanduinye.”

The woman sighed.

“You got a shorter version of that, kid? There’s only so much room on the form.”

“Oh. Yeah, just Alvanue Silthondrim should do,” she said, a bit embarrassed. She sat down in the only seat not otherwise occupied, wincing. She wondered if it was intentionally uncomfortable.

Mdm. Ragnell pursed her lips and wrote it down.

She flipped lightning fast through the stack of paperwork in front of her, quill pausing only to dip into its inkpot. The only sound in the room aside from the scratch of quillnib on parchment was the tapping of Professor Kelibrig’s little foot.

“Alright, just need you to fill out right here and here, and sign at the bottom, and we’re done here Ms. Silthondrim,” the old woman indicated several blank spaces under dense blocks of text. Alvanue said nothing about the mispronunciation of her last name or the lack of a title.

“What are these for?” she asked. Thumbing through them, it seemed like a lot of paperwork for just one person.

“Since your acceptance was fast tracked by order of the Crown, we have to record that you did not take the college’s entrance exam,” said the professor. “And seeing as you’ve taken residence at the Concordian Embassy, we need you to acknowledge that you waive your right to the student housing St. Gildrin’s provides to all first years. The final part is some missing personal information not provided by His Majesty High Lord Githanduin when he signed you up for classes, such as medical records, personal strengths and weaknesses etcetera. That, and insurance for your, ahem, pet.”

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

“My pet- oh, Snowball? Is there going to be a problem?” she asked.

The little troll had grown since she first rescued it, with no signs of stopping anytime soon. Already, it stood taller than a human toddler. Its fur was darkening to the same steely color as its mother’s, and its fangs were beginning to poke up through its smooth, pink gums. Alvanue wasn’t well versed in troll biology, but if Snowball kept growing at the rate it was, it’d be as big as Alvanue in less than a year.

“Oh, no my lady, not at all. A great number of our mage students here take on a familiar, though I cannot recall there ever being a troll at St. Gildrin’s before. It’s standard policy to take out insurance on them, however, in case of any potential incidents, as magical creatures are wont to cause,” he assured her.

“I don’t really have any money on me,” she said. Not unless they accepted the bit of hard tack she had found in her pocket from her last meal on Captain Silfene’s ship.

I could try sending a message to Edhalan to come up here, but he’s probably conked out right now.

“Not to worry, the cost will be deducted from your account at the Royal Bank,” he said.

“Wait, I have a bank account?”

That was news to her.

“Well, yes,” the professor gave her a strange look. “His Majesty provided us with an account under your name when you were enrolled. How do you think your uniform and all of your classes were being paid for, let alone your tuition?”

To be perfectly honest, Alvanue hadn’t really given it a thought.

The side effect of living the life she did, where her only real job was making sure her sire wasn’t too irritated with her, was that the idea of money hadn't factored into her daily life in a long time. If she needed something, her family provided it. She never really considered what it cost. She did wonder why her sire had not told her about the account, however.

Old man must’ve been worried I’d spend it all, she thought. He’s probably right.

After finishing with the forms, Professor Kelibrig asked if she wanted that tour.

She begged off, pretending to feel tired from her journey and telling him she would head back to the embassy. He tried to persuade her to take one of their carriages or at least allow them to provide a guard to accompany her, but she politely refused.

After walking her to the front of the Main Hall, he said farewell and then went off to do whatever professors of divination did when they weren’t teaching.

She waited to make sure he was out of sight, before she ducked into the space between two buildings and began her exploration of the college.

***

The day had cooled significantly during her time with Professor Kelibrig.

The temperature wasn’t terrible this far south, but it would take time for her to grow accustomed to the warmer Lyonessean weather. The unfamiliar heat made her feel shaky and a little drained of energy.

The sky was full of puffy white clouds that traced lazy paths across the sky. The thick fog from earlier had cleared enough for her to see the city below. St. Gildrin’s was fortunately not completely surrounded by the thick walls she’d passed through on her way to the Main Hall; there were several fenced-in ledges where people could look out over the channel to Westernesse in the east and the neat farmland pressing up against the city walls to the south.

She could see all of the city from the ledge she found herself standing on, the market below busy with merchants eager to sell their wares, a magician performing tricks for a delighted audience, and little children playing in a fountain while servants did laundry. It was a beautiful urban scene, and one which she might regularly have enjoyed if she wasn’t currently irritated.

Who knew it would be so hard to find your way around such a tiny school, she thought.

The campus itself was half as big as the community college she remembered going to in Arizona, little less than a third the size of a city block. Regardless, she’d spent the better part of an hour exploring all the buildings and tucked away gardens to her heart's content, but now that she was ready to actually head back to the embassy, she had no idea where to go.

She let out a huffy breath and considered the practicality of climbing down into the market below when she heard a voice call out behind her.

“Are you lost?”

Alvanue turned.

Sitting at a table in a pointed black hat was a girl with raven curls falling on either side of her very pretty face. There was something about her accent, something familiar, that Alvanue couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Is it that obvious?” she asked.

The girl smiled.

“Only a little. Come, I’ll draw you a map if you like,” she said, waving her over.

Alvanue walked over and sat down across from the girl. The stranger pulled a scroll from the small bag beside her and undid the bindings keeping it closed. Pushing away the papers in front of her, she unrolled it, and pulled a quill from behind her ear to dip in her inkpot.

With sure strokes, she sketched out a somewhat crescent shape that must have been an outline of the school before filling in the blank space with interlacing rectangles. No wonder she had trouble finding her way back, the school’s layout looked like some crazy kindergartener’s idea of a labyrinth.

“And here you are,” said the girl, passing the freshly drawn map to Alvanue with a grin. “Dorms are back that way, library’s that way, most of the common courses are taught here, mage students meet there and knight students meet there. That little ‘x’ is the gate.”

Alvanue looked it over, nodding.

“Thanks, really, this is a life saver.”

“It’s no problem at all.” She smiled at Alvanue, wide enough to make her blue eyes crinkle and a dimple stick out on her cheek. “It’s hard to find your way around for the first few days, but after that you’ll know it like the back of your hand.”

“I hope so. I wanted to get a look at this place before classes start,” Alvanue said, “I just didn’t expect this place to be such a maze.”

“The hallways and courtyards switch places sometimes,” the stranger said with a shrug.

Seeing the confusion on Alvanue’s face, the girl continued.

“So many enchantments have built up over time that the grounds have a bit of a mind of their own. Are you new?”

Alvanue nodded.

“Thought as much. People talk and I’m sure I would’ve heard about any elves here. I’m Viviane. Vivienne Gorgagne.” The girl, Vivienne, held out her hand which Alvanue accepted happily.

“Alvanue,” she said. With their hands still clasped together, she realized what sounded so familiar about Vivienne’s voice.

French. Against all odds, the girl in front of her had a French accent.

Is there even a France in this world?

When she thought about it, it somewhat made sense. Common was surprisingly close to English, she’d just never really connected the two as English was her native language back on Earth. It made her wonder, though.

If there's French and English, and I somehow ended up here, maybe there are more connections between this world and Earth. Maybe there are other people like me out there.

Something to focus on later on.

“I’ve never met an elf before,” Vivienne’s voice was distracted as she took in Alvanue’s silvery hair and the long ears that poked out from it.

“I’ve never met someone from France before,” she said without thinking, and slapped a hand over her mouth.

Vivienne’s brow bunched into a puzzled frown. “France? I’m from Rettinsbourg.Where is France? Is that someplace in the Concord?”

“Uh, it’s- never mind, it’s not important,” Alvanue said, flustered.

She saw a wand sticking out of Viviane’s bag and jumped at the chance to change the conversation.

“So, you’re in the Mage Program?”

Vivienne was slow to answer, giving her a puzzled look.

Damn, she’s suspicious now, Alvanue thought.

“...Yes. I’m a second year with a focus on summoning. Which program are you in?”

Alvanue didn't know all that much about summoners aside from the basics.

They were specialized mages that worked their magic with the aid of spirit helpers, though she wasn't quite sure how that all worked exactly. Most elves followed enchanting and sorcery traditions, which is what her parents and that old monster Uruigith had based her patchwork education on.

“Same as you. My dad wants me to be a mage and I don’t have any problems with that, so here I am,” she said.

“Have you thought about what your focus might be?” Vivienne asked.

Focuses had been mentioned in the letters from the college her sire let her read and they seemed equivalent to ‘majors’ on Earth.

In her opinion, a focus on enchanting seemed like the best fit for her. The idea of being able to craft and customize her own implements and gear, drawing on inspiration from Earth like her wand holsters, was extremely intriguing. The possibilities were endless. For the moment, though, she thought it best not to make any rash decisions and wait to see what other choices were available to her.

“A little, yeah, but I think I’ll keep my options open.”

“Smart,” Vivienne said approvingly. “The Dean doesn’t like students changing their focus unless they have a really good reason. Pretty pigheaded about it, actually.”

Alvanue thought back on the plump little man that had chased her and Edhalan up the street just a few hours before. “Really? He didn’t seem the type when I met him.”

“’He’? Oh, you’re talking about Professor Kelibrig. He likes to call himself the ‘Dean of Magical Studies’ or whatever, but he’s just the Director of the Mage Program. Teaches divination as well, I believe.”

Vivienne’s dark, shiny curls bounced as she shook her head.

“No, I’m talking about Dean Felwyck, the dragon herself. If you haven’t met her yet, you will tomorrow at the welcoming ceremony.”

Alvanue hesitated.

“Is she…that bad?”

“Oh, she can be an absolute shryke when she wants to be, but overall she’s not too terrible. She’s just very set in her ways. And stubborn. Did I mention she likes things to go her way?” said Vivienne, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“Think I got the picture.” Alvanue said, unable to hold back her answering smile.

“But seriously, the Dean and a lot of the other professors here are going to pressure you to choose a focus in the first couple weeks but stay strong. It’s better to wait and choose something you’re passionate about rather than jump the wand and end up stuck with something you hate,” the girl cautioned.

They talked for a bit more, Alvanue asking about classes and Vivienne sharing more advice. When she stood up to leave, Vivienne caught her wrist with a neatly manicured hand.

“One last thing. Some of the summer session kids are sneaking out to grab a drink tonight. I was thinking…maybe you want to go?”

Alvanue stood there dumbstruck for a second before catching herself and nodded.

If she excluded the formal banquets and stiff-backed tournaments organized by her parents, this was the first social event she’d been invited to in the past thirty years. Even as a kid in Arizona, the number of birthdays and parties she’d gone to could be counted on one hand.

“Yeah. Yes. Where are you guys going?” she asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“The Hangman. It’s a bit of a dump but the ale’s cheap and it stays open all night,” said Vivienne.

“Cool,” a smile split Alvanue’s face. “Where should I meet you guys?”

“Just tell me what dorm you’re in. I can come by and pick you up at a quarter bell after sundown,” said Vivienne.

Alvanue shifted from foot to foot.

“Actually, uh, I’m not in any of the dorms. I live off-campus.”

The human girl blinked at her.

“Oh. Well, then, write down your address and I’ll swing by on my way to there.”