I hated these classes. Ever since I let Verdint borrow my drawings to show to Parvik he enrolled me and would not take no for an answer. Normally for the children of wealthy merchants, adventurers, and nobility, I painfully did not fit in. The academy only permitted me to attend because the great Parvik himself made them. While I admire his inventions, I am beginning to despise him and Verdint for making me come here. I wrote a letter to Parvik, as I still have not met him, asking for permission to simply use the academy library instead. His response was pages long, rambling about the importance of a wide perspective, that no invention exists in a vacuum, and blah, blah, blah.

So three cycles of classes later I have learned economics, politics, history, arithmetic, etiquette, and art. Not even the kind of art that I enjoy drawing, the academy made me draw pointless things that did not even have a purpose, simply because they looked pretty. Apparently drawing flowers in a vase builds character.

The arithmetic was useful at least, even if the teachers taught slowly. Why did the other students take so long to learn these formulas? The symbols all worked together like gears, once you know the basic parts putting them together to solve for what you want took little effort. Already I am able to calculate more advanced designs for my drawings, I mean blueprints. Vardint says I need to call them blueprints.

My blueprints apparently made me significant enough to garner special attention. Yet as my classmates love to remind me, I am a peasant among nobles. Not like my family works any less than their families. My mother grows the most beautiful gardens. For the noble parents of my bullies. Father keeps up with any other blacksmith in the city and he lost his left arm years ago. Unfortunately, he cannot do the delicate tasks he once could.

Finally, the teacher dismisses us. I gather my drawings and hurry out the door.

“Lindra, wait up,” Meyn called out from behind me.

Laughing to myself, I sped up. As the academy’s only air-touched human, he didn’t need me to wait for him. Sure enough, I felt a breeze and soon he matched his stride with mine.

“Have you finished your essay on the beginning of the Outbreak yet? I couldn’t find much written on the period between the discovery of the first dungeon and the first monster swarms.” He continued as we walked.

Begrudgingly I responded, “You should look in economics texts. At first, nearly every commoner regarded dungeons as a chance to turn their life around. A few hours of bravery could get you enough gold to retire. Except the price of everything rapidly increased with so much wealth coming out of nowhere. The merchant guilds were in an uproar.”

“Oh, I never would have thought about that. Thanks. So what’s your latest drawing? Let me see.” He started nudging my arm and trying to peak at the bundle in my hands.

“Well, if you insist,” I reply with a smirk. Proudly I hold up my latest drawin- I mean blueprint.

“Huh? What is it?” His head tilted like a confused dog.

“It’s a messaging system. Wires travel across the city to connect two machines. On each machine is a block for each letter. When a letter block is pressed it will pull the wire that moves the same letter on the other machine. Then the person on the other side can write down the message.”

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“That’s amazing, where did you come up with the idea?”

“Well, there are still a few issues with the system that I need to fix. The system doesn’t work yet. Last monster wave did you see the guard towers flashing back and forth with each other?” By now we slowed our pace to more easily talk. Meyn knew the one way to get me to open up.

“No, my father put mother and I into the secure room before going out to fight. He always does that, I never get to see any of the battles,” Meyn complained with a sigh. He wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps as a great adventurer but could not overcome his parent’s overprotectiveness.

“Well, the attack surprised the guards with how quickly the swarm changed attack locations. In the chaos and fires, the guards failed to notice the signal lights about the flank in time.”

“That’s why the swarm caused a remarkable amount of destruction. The last time a monster wave broke through the walls was cycles ago.”

We both go silent after that. Back when we were only a few cycles old, a particularly nasty monster wave of primarily harpies and other ariel monsters attacked. They flew over the wall to destroy whole sections of the city. My father lost his arm in the attack and Meyn confessed to me once that his older sister died as well.

Fortunately, in the battle one new adventurer party stood out, clearing out monsters by the dozen. Then the rotation after the battle they attacked the dungeon that sent the swarm before it could recover. When they returned with the broken core, the king proclaimed them the Heroes of Kopth.

Ironically, despite their skill and bravery the Heroes of Kopth died on their next dungeon dive.

No one likes to talk about the state of the world, but studying at the academy forced me to see how poorly the sentient races are surviving. Growing up as a commoner I intimately knew the pain of hunger. But reading the surviving history from before the Outbreak showed me how far we fell. Kopth remains the largest human city but we cannot fill all the homes. Entire streets remain destroyed from the harpy attack eight cycles ago. My aunt, a midwife, says she delivers fewer babies every year. No one but the strongest traveled adventurers between cities, certainly not merchants. News from other populations remains sparse. Sometimes entire settlements simply disappear.

Our sour mood lingers as Meyn and I walk out of the academy and down the road. Each of us lost in our thoughts. Turning the corner, I feel a hand shove me against the wall.

“Well if it isn’t the rat and the breeze. I thought I told you last time to go back where you belong,” Herp snarled at me. His glare could kill and his rotund face scrunched in anger.

Not bothering trying to reason with him, I try to duck under his arm caging me against the wall. I see one of Herp’s minions pushing back Meyn before I run face first into Bori. Of course, Bori had to be there. I bounce off his massive chest, not staggering him a bit, and fall back onto my butt. My drawings scatter everywhere.

“Hey, leave her alone guys. You can’t do this to people,” Meyn shouts as he unsuccessfully tries to shove his way to me.

Ignoring Meyn entirely, Herp turns back to me. “Trying to leave so soon? You should have never come.” Herp closed the distance between us, stepping on my drawings and grinding them in the filthy road. He kneeled down and picked up my latest drawing about the communication system.

“We need hard workers and fighters, not weaklings who scribble,” he said as he tore my drawing repeatedly before blowing the scraps in my face.

“You bastard!” I shouted and swung my fist at him. Even at this distance I missed his face, grazing his shoulder instead.

“You dare to insult and strike the King’s nephew? Bori, looks like she needs a lesson that’s extra educational.” Herp smirked, the sadist.

“Hang on Lindra, I’ll get help!” Meyn shouted before sprinting off.

“Certainly, Herp” Bori menacingly crooned as he cocked back his right foot.

...Not again.