Chapter 51
Grant was reviewing purchasing agreements. It was a bit of a gamble, buying weapons and armor for the prospective members of his organization who hadn’t even joined yet. And it was Tom’s money that he was gambling with, not his own, which added to the pressure. He was confident that the payout would be worth the risk.
The basic plan was solid. People would sign up for the adventurer’s guild. They would have their prospective classes predicted by Elisa, once the woman had refined her methodology of guessing a person’s class just by looking at their lifelines. Possible mages and healers would be awoken directly by Tom, while everyone else would receive combat training in preparation for their first delve.
While Tom had volunteered to produce vast amounts of Conjured goods for the guild, Grant had reluctantly turned him down. Mostly because the conjured goods that Tom was able to produce on demand weren’t as good as the items made by craftsmen, or the items that were now being found in the treasure boxes that had begun appearing in Tom’s dungeons. And they tended to degrade over time, especially when taken away from areas controlled by a core.
Grant envisioned all of the members of his organization being granted a basic kit. A weapon of their choosing and training in how to use it effectively. Armor to their preference. A set of potions, and a guide to make certain that they didn’t get themselves killed in their first foray. Then, once their classes had unlocked naturally, they would pay the organization back over time.
He had checked, it and it was quite easy for the Cores in Tom’s network to be set up to send a tithe back to the Adventurer’s guild. He figured twenty percent of a fledgling adventurer’s income wasn’t too much to ask until their starting gear and training had been paid for. After that, they would be expected to pay an annual fee to maintain their relationship with the organization.
Such a model would keep the initial cost of membership low, while simultaneously increasing the survivability rates of those seeking to unlock their classes and providing a baseline quality to the members of the organization.
The problem was the initial investment. Grant was purchasing weapons which may never actually be wielded in combat; armor that may never be worn. While he had negotiated significant discounts based on the volume of products that he was requesting, the fact remained that it was expensive.
There was a knock at the door. He looked up just as Nora stuck her head in. He smiled at the woman, then frowned at her troubled expression.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“My powers slipped again,” she admitted. “I read the mind of a young man.”
“Oh,” Grant paused. “While I’m sorry that your powers aren’t the most reliable or easy to control, at least they seem to be mostly harmless. The young man in question wouldn’t even know that the privacy of his mind was invaded unless he was told, after all, and --”
“Grant, he was fantasizing about killing me,” Nora said.
“What?” Grant was genuinely shocked. His shock turned to anger. “Why?”
“Religious intolerance, I think,” Nora answered. “He was envisioning it quite clearly. I almost thought he was about to march up to my pulpit, but he remembered he had another engagement and ran off. Grant, I think he was planning on killing someone else today. I don’t know who.”
Grant pinched his nose. “Unless you want to reveal your power to the world, Nora, there’s nothing we can really do about it. Especially since you don’t know who his target is. If you’d gotten that much out of him, we could warn them or see to their protection. As it is, I’m not certain what can be done.”
“I know that,” Nora said. She stepped further into the room, closing the door behind her. Grant motioned for her to sit, and she did. “After I realized that he was seriously considering murder, I tried to delve into his mind a little deeper, but it wasn’t easy. I’m not practiced with my power, and most of the practice that I do have is on how to turn it off. And he was in a crowd; it was during my sermon that I spotted him. The noise of the crowd, both the literal noise and the mental kind, drowned out most of what he was thinking when I tried to listen in. It was just that first burst of clarity that really came across clear, where he was fantasizing about me.”
“I’m sorry,” Grant said again. “That must be very disturbing for you to have experienced.”
“It was,” she agreed.
“Has it made you reconsider your policy regarding your power?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “The mind is the one true refuge that people have, Grant. I’m not going to willingly invade someone’s privacy, their sanctity, like that. Not without good reason. I wish that God hadn’t granted me this power, but at the same time I’m grateful that he granted it to me instead of someone who would abuse it.”
“I understand,” Grant said. He sighed. “I’m not certain what else to say, honestly. Would you--”
Another knock at the door, and a young man came in. He had a stack of papers in his hand.
“Mister President, I have some more papers for you to review,” the man said.
Grant cocked his head, not recognizing this person. “Where’s Wendy?” he asked. While his assistant would have let Nora straight through, this stranger wouldn’t have been given directions or direct access to his office without--
“Grant, watch out!” Nora called, and the man dropped the papers. He pointed a small crossbow at Grant, firing without hesitation.
The crossbow bolt flew straight through the chair where Grant had been sitting seconds before. His suspicion of the interruption and Nora’s warning had together caused him to trigger his Flicker ability and he appeared a few feet away.
The man pulled a dagger from his sleave and prepared to engage in combat. Grant frowned, because it was obvious that this man had a class, and some levels.
He Flickered again, appearing next to a cabinet, which he quickly opened and pulled out his knives. The stranger charged at him, but Grant Flickered away. Then, using his legerdemain skills, he stabbed the man in the shoulder, and then the knee. While Grant’s knives and his arm seemed to stretch to cover the distance between himself and his target, the reality was that the distance shrank due to Grant’s control over space.
While the man was a rogue of level twenty or so, he lacked the combat experience required to fight someone with unconventional combat abilities like Grant. He dropped the weapon, and then fell to the floor as his tendons were cut. Grant realized that, without really considering it, he might have permanently crippled the man.
“You filth!” the man shouted. “Ma’at will cleanse the world of your kind! All of the undead will be purged, and--”
The man launched into a tirade, and Grant tuned it out. “What happened to Wendy?” Grant asked.
“I killed her!” the man said. “All who serve the false god will be purged, and--”
“Wendy is fine, this man sneaked past her,” Nora answered. Her eyes were glowing faintly as she utilized her ability to its fullest extent, reading the injured man’s mind. “Grant, you’re not the only target. This is a conspiracy. They’re striking out at people all across town.”
“You’re using your power,” He pointed out.
“This man lost his right to the privacy of his mind when he tried to kill you, Grant,” Nora said sternly. “I don’t care if that makes me a hypocrite.”
“Who else is a target?” Grant asked.
“I’ll never tell! You’ll get nothing out of me, undead monster!” the man spouted.
“The king, the spymistress, a few merchants,” Nora said, ticking the targets off on her fingers. She paused. “And Tom. Oh god. It’s all happening right now. We have to warn them!”
The man, growing accustomed to his injuries, managed to regain his feet, only for Grant to Flicker behind him and hamstring his other leg. He wasn’t feeling particularly sympathetic towards the assassin.
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Wendy appeared in the door. Grant snapped his head up to look at her. While his office assistant was many things, she was not a fighter.
“Wendy, go get Orthos and Renton,” he instructed. “Tell them there’s an assassin in my room, and that Tom is another target.”
Wendy nodded and rushed off.
Grant frowned and began looking for something to secure the man’s arms with when the man abruptly went still. Grant looked at Nora, who’s expression was grim.
“I can hold him,” she said. “I’ve unlocked another power, it seems. Or rather, I’ve learned to use one that’s already there. He can’t move unless I make him right now. Go. Warn Tom and the others. I’ll hold him here.”
“Are you certain?” Grant asked.
“Go!” she said.
Grant went.
~~~~~~~
Vella was listening carefully to her master, absorbing his wisdom. She’d learned much since becoming Ubo Urban’s apprentice, but lately the lessons had been especially intensive. She focused on the words and sounds coming from her master, absorbing their meaning and inventing meanings for the ones that she didn’t know.
“No you thrice damned stone foresaken cretin! That is absolutely outrageous! I will stomp on my own testicles and marry your uncle Frank before I give into your obscene demands!” Ubo shouted.
“You’ve given Tremont his own wing and lecture hall! Why should I get any less?”
“Because Tremont is teaching enchanting and elemental transfiguration! He needs the wing in the western building for the first class, and the lecture hall for the second! And six other classes use the lecture hall! You’re teaching Transplanential Maths! That’s a subject so obscure that only sixteen people in the world understand it, and two of them are in this room!”
“That’s exactly why I should get access to the lecture hall. This subsection of magic shouldn’t be allowed to die out simply because it’s complicated!”
“I don’t disagree with that,” Ubo admitted, calming himself. “However, how many students do you expect to actually attend this class?”
“As many as are interested in it?” the argumentative scholar insisted. “I’m certain that once they understand that piercing the veil between worlds can exponentially increase the efficacy of ritual magics, the average student will--”
“The average student will flounder about casting Fireball for six months before they manage to obtain some level of lethality, then they’ll drop out and join an adventuring group,” Ubo said. “Most of our students will be looking for practical magic skills. While I’d like to say that the Urban School for Magic is a refuge for obscure topics, the fact is that it will exist mostly to teach the basics to former Commoners with little to no formal education.”
The man arguing with Ubo frowned. “You promised me that I could teach to my specialty.”
“I did,” Ubo agreed. “I promised that you could create as many classes as you wished on whatever topics you wished to discuss. Elective classes. I do admire the variety of obscure specialties that you specialize in, Reginald. However, we need--”
“Elective?” Reginald frowned. His face darkened. “We’re talking about the future generations of Mages, and you don’t think that what I know is important enough to teach them?”
“I’m certain that, in a few years, we’ll have any number of advanced scholars who will be seeking out your expertise,” Ubo said politically. “In the meantime, I need Mages who can teach the basics. If you want the lecture halls or your own wing, then you need to teach a class that justifies taking up that sort of footprint.”
Reginald pursed his lips. “What sort of class would give me a larger classroom than Tremont?”
Ubo paused, his eyebrows raising as he reassessed the conversation. “You have a rivalry with Tremont?”
“The man is a putrid fungal infected ingrown toenail of a subhuman variety,” Reginald stated.
“So you want a larger classroom than him.”
“And to teach more advanced classes than he does,” Reginald admitted.
Ubo was quiet for a moment. “As I promised, you can invent and teach whatever elective classes you wish. But it will be up to you to get students to sign up for those classes. However, if you just want larger classes and more access to the facilities of the school…”
Ubo began flipping through some papers. He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Yes. Basic Thaumaturgy. It’s a required class, and I need more teachers for it. If you agree to teach two of those classes, then I can combine them into the same block and give you access to the southwestern lecture hall.”
Reginald frowned. “Basic Thaumaturgy? I’m one of the premier experts on planar forces and you’d have me teaching Basic Thaumaturgy?”
“Have you specialized to the point where you’ve forgotten the basics?” Ubo asked.
Reginald scoffed. “I’ve forgotten more about Thaumaturgy than most mages ever learn!”
“Is that a yes or a no? Because if you need a refresher on the basics, then--”
“Oh crush my stones, Ubo, it’s just an expression.” Reginald sighed. “So if I teach Basic Thaumaturgy, I get the largest lecture hall on campus?”
“Second largest, but larger than the one Tremont will be getting,” Ubo promised. “And since you’ll be teaching two blocks instead of one, you’ll have double access to the visualization halls. That’s the same as Tremont will be granted for his two classes. However, if you can design an elective that draws at least ten students, I’ll give you an extra block.”
“And if I can get two electives with ten students each?”
Ubo frowned. “No. You can teach as many elective classes as you want. But you’ll need to have at least fifty students before I give you more than one block with the visualization halls for your electives.”
“What about direct mentorship rather than elective classes? If I mentor fifty students --”
“Yes, that’s fine. If you want to pick out students to mentor rather than teach your electives, I can accept that.”
The conversation continued for some time after that, but now that the swearing was mostly over Vella tuned it out. She began repeating what she’d learned under her breath.
“Goblin loincloth breath,” she whispered. “Zombie-fart sniffer. The intelligence of two snails with half a synapse each. Did you drink turpentine when you were younger? Have you perhaps mistaken me with someone who is impressed with masturbatory sophistry?”
She didn’t understand all of them, but she repeated them, writing down some of the ones which sounded especially creative.
A knock at the door distracted her, and she stopped listening at the door to her master’s office to answer it. It was a servant delivering trays of food on a cart. She didn’t recognize the servant, but she thanked him and brought the cart into the secretarial office which she’d been eavesdropping from.
She knocked on Ubo’s door and stuck her head into his office to inform him that lunch was served. It seemed that Reginald and Ubo had come to an accord, as Reginald decided to accept the interruption as an excuse to go and find his own repast, leaving with a smile on his face.
“Come eat with me,” Ubo instructed her, and with a wave of his hand the trays lifted from the cart and floated into the room. Vella watched enviously. She could perform levitation, but not nearly so skillfully, and not with objects that large. Or two things at once.
“How are your studies proceeding?” Ubo asked, uncovering his own tray as she sat in the chair that Reginald had been warming for her. “I fear that I haven’t been a very good master to you, Vella.”
“No! You’re the best, Master Ubo,” she disagreed. “Although I am looking forward to when the school opens, but that won’t be the end of my apprenticeship, will it?”
“Yes and no,” Ubo said. “You’ll be enrolled as a student, but I will be your personal mentor. You’ll have a dozen of Master Mages to study under, but I’ll be ensuring that your education is far superior to your peers. I accepted the role of your Master, Vella, and I intend for you to be one of the best mages of your generation.”
“Oh,” Vella said. “But I’ll be able to come visit any time I want, right?”
“And if your grades start to slip even a little bit, you’ll be hiding from me because I won’t accept any less than perfection from you,” Ubo threatened. He took a sip from his tea and was about to say something else, but his expression abruptly turned dark. He snapped his fingers, and the cupcake that Vella was just about to lick the frosting from flew out of her hands.
She frowned at him. “Master, what was that--”
“Have you eaten anything from this cart?” Ubo asked, his voice carrying hints of danger and anger in them. “A single bite to eat or drink at all?”
Vella was confused. “Not yet. Master Ubo, what--”
“My tea is poisoned,” Ubo said. He chanted under his breath for a second, and Vella felt a wave of magic pass through her, out in a sphere from Master Ubo in all directions. He sighed. “The tray was delivered just when you said it was, right? You didn’t wait ten minutes or so?”
“I knocked right away,” she assured him.
“Good. That spell should have cut off the poisoner’s escape,” he said, and he took another sip of his tea.
“Master!” she exclaimed. He had just said that it was poison!
“It’s fine,” Ubo said. “The dose is enough to kill a normal person with a taste. If they were below level twenty, I think. At my level it will just give me indigestion.”
He made a gesture, and Vella’s tea flew into his hands as well. He took a sip of that too.
“The bastards poisoned both glasses,” he muttered. Vella paled. She had been just about to drink that, and she was under level twenty. She was still level one!
“The downside to this sort of poison is that it has a very strong flavor, so it’s very difficult to hide,” Ubo said, his voice in his lecture mode. He began sampling other foods on his tray, determining one by one that they were each poisoned as well. He sighed. “Amateurs and fools. They would have killed you but only succeeded in upsetting the very powerful mage that they were trying to kill. You remember the face of the man who delivered the cart, do you not, Vella?”
“Of course I do, Master Ubo,” She said.
“Alright then, let’s go find him. That spell I cast a moment ago, it’s a very powerful dome spell. Everyone within a mile has been sealed off from escape. In a moment, I shall begin restricting the area until everyone is forced to crowd into the campus square.”
Ubo turned to Vella, and she was alarmed by how angry he looked. “Whoever thought that they could poison the two of us will learn why nobody is foolish enough to make enemies of the Urbans.”