“That's the backup plan?” says Everton. “From what you've said it sounds suicidal.”

“He's not going to be trying to kill you.” Accidentally, possibly, but he won't be trying. “Karson loves fighting. It's the only thing he does.”

Well, that, and bedding probably half the women here over the years, and doing that without even trying. They were the ones showing up at his door. He probably has a complete schedule blocked out and a wait list to get in. Before this experience had never really understood the appeal. A couple days ago, encountering him in the locker room, now understood perfectly.

“If you can get him to acknowledge you he'll get you in. And he'd never back down from a challenge, no matter who it came from. Honor thing. Warrior stuff. Who knows. Besides, it may not even come to that.” Going to do my best to make it happen, though, see if you're worth even half a shit. It'll be a good show, either case. “And, if it does happen, Kate'll patch you right up.” Wolfe giving me a look. Yeah, okay, we'll see what happens.

Our group arriving at the empty plaza in front of Stormhawk, the sun high in the midday sky, beating down, causing a slight heat haze to be visible on the ground. Same familiar setup, two guards in chairs by the door. Not the same two as earlier, one the same as the night of the finals, the other unfamiliar. Refreshing Runic Shield and then the ones on my knife and shirt. The group flanking Everton and walking toward the two guards, who'd perked up at our approach.

“Can I help you with something?” says the guard on the right, glancing at Everton, ignoring Walker and Morgan, and giving us a once over.

“I'm here seeking entry to the guild,” says Everton.

“Guild don't exist no more,” the guard spitting on the ground, “so unless you got business with Stormhawk, you can head on home.”

“In that case I'm here to join Stormhawk.”

“Really?” says the guard on the left. “Just yourself, or all of you? You might be okay. Him, I dunno about. The other guy, maybe. And then these three, well, I'm sure we'll find something they'll be good for.”

As charming as ever.

“Is Karson in?”

“Karson? Yeah, he's here.” The guard considering me. “You're a thirsty girl, aren't you? You've got to work your way up to him.”

Wolfe putting her hand on my shoulder - my hand had found the hilt of my knife. The two dead men starting to laugh.

“I'm here to challenge Karson,” Everton yelling. “Karson, if you're in there, get out here. Face me.”

“Are you crazy?” The guard on the left saying in an unconcerned tone.

“Has to be.” The one on the right confirming.

Everton walking between the two surprised guards and pounding his fist on the door. “Karson, get out here, you coward.”

Oh, boy, that may be going too far.

“Okay, okay,” says the guard on the left, “if you're really that interested in getting the everliving shit beaten out of you, best of luck. I'll get him.” Standing up from the chair and entering the building. Everton pacing back and forth in front of the door, a bundle of nerves. The door opening not that much later, Karson's frame filling it. His eyes scanning our group, stopping briefly on me, but then focusing on Everton.

“I'd heard that I'd been challenged. Are you the one?”

“That's Karson?” says Riley.

“Oh dear.” Wolfe giving Everton a look of concern.

“Yes sir, I challenged you,” says Everton, his voice loud and strong, but hands tightly clenched at his sides.

“Tell me why.”

“I've come to join the guild,” says Everton. “They said it didn't exist anymore but I've been told that's not true. I heard I needed to challenge you to gain admittance.”

A slow smile growing on Karson's face. “What's your name, son?”

“Jack Everton, sir.”

“Jack, I accept your challenge.” Karson turning to the guard. “Go and tell the brotherhood someone has come to join our ranks, a child ready to be a man.”

“You there,” Karson pointing at us. “Come inside. Come bear witness to your friend's trial by combat.”

“What the hell is going on?” says Riley.

Following Karson inside and the two guards running in different directions, one down the hall to the right, the other up the stairs, pounding on doors to rouse the House. The people in the dining hall to the left glancing up from their meals at the commotion. Following Karson out into the courtyard and a crowd gathering, growing in size and forming a ring. Karson, standing in the middle, bare chested, weaponless, Everton across from him, the same.

“Are they serious with all this?” Wolfe asking in a small voice.

“My brothers,” Karson's voice booming, “this child, this man, Jack Everton, has come to join us. What say you?”

The crowd erupting in cheers and yells and shouts. Taking in the spectacle, a huge smile on my face. Riley, Wolfe, Walker and Morgan meanwhile trying to figure out what fever dream they'd fallen into, and if they could find a way out.

“Let this trial by combat begin!” Karson yelling over the crowd.

The result had been forgone. The only reason it lasted as long as it did had been because Karson was going easy, testing Everton's mettle. Knocking him down four or five times, and each time Everton getting back to his feet, and each time the crowd's roar swelling each time he got back up, until, finally, the boy lay still in the dirt.

“Brothers,” yells Karson, “has this man shown determination and courage?” A huge swelling roar from the crowd. “Has he proven himself worthy of joining?” Another roar. “Then let us celebrate the addition of our new brother!” Karson lifting Everton's beaten and battered body off the ground, the boy's face swollen and discolored beyond recognition. Someone from the crowd running in to heal his injuries. The crowd yelling and screaming and losing itself in a frenzy, the sound and energy filling the area and the sensation running through me. Noticing the rest of the group glancing around, overwhelmed. Time to go.

“He'll be fine. Let's go.” Walker looking at me, not sure what to say. “Listen, we need to get the fuck out of here.”

The guy about to continue arguing, but then Wolfe nearly losing her balance. Leaning heavily against him, a hand over her face. A universal nod of agreement and then all of us carefully, and quickly, creeping out of the courtyard and out the front door to safety. Wolfe, pale and sweating, heavily taking a seat on the plaza stones.

“Are you alright?” says Walker.

“I'm okay, it just got to me,” she says.

“I don't know if I want to join my guild,” says Morgan.

“It won't be anything like that. Those people are a bunch of special children.”

The group looking at me for a moment and then letting out slightly hysterical laughter. The rest of us sitting down on the plaza stones next to her, trying to catch our breaths, as well.

“Lucy,” says Riley, after a bit, “we'll take Matt over to the temple, but since you've been could you bring Tim over to House Mink?”

No reason not to, the guy still looking shaken up.

“Yeah, not a problem. I need to speak with someone over there anyway.”

Standing up, dusting myself off, shaking Walker's hand, and giving Riley and Wolfe each a quick hug.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“I'll see you two tomorrow at the West Gate, nine o'clock?” The two confirming. “I'm thinking about staying out a little longer tomorrow. I'll pack us lunch.” Waving goodbye and then turning back to consider my Blood Mage problem. Not entirely sure what to make of him: he hadn't displayed an abnormal reaction to the events at Stormhawk and, otherwise, he'd been pretty quiet.

“Um,” he says, “are we going to get going?”

Had been looking at him like some sort of poisonous bug or, more apropos, some kind of a deadly disease. Should calm down, he can't even do anything, yet.

“Yeah, we'll go there, but I just remembered I need to pick something up in the town square, so we're going to take a bit of a detour.”

Walking south, and then east, instead of west and north, Morgan trotting beside me, not talking, which is fine, it's not my particular inclination at the moment, either.

Arriving at the armor shop and finding my completed order. A set of ordinary, basic leather armor. Removing the cloak and dagger sheathes, and the hatchet from the loop in my belt, and then putting on the pieces one by one. The main piece, chest armor covering the entire torso and draping down a bit, protecting the front and buttocks. Testing Runic Shield. Seems fine. Leg greaves, in two pieces, one from the ankle to just below the knee, the other from the upper thigh and then over the knee. Testing Runic Shield. Seems fine. Arm guards, also two pieces. Testing Runic Shield again. Seems fine. Finally, the helm, adjusting the back for the braid, strapping it on. Testing Runic Shield. Not fine. Trying to start the trickle of mana and not working. Resistance.

Sighing. Unfortunate, but predictable. And this was the most basic, lightest set of armor, no metal inserts for additional strength, no nothing. And a helm isn't permitted. Runic Shield is very strong when in use, but against unforeseen attacks it doesn't afford any protection. No helm is unfortunate.

“I don't want this.”

Handing back the helm and losing my deposit for it. Counting out the additional silvers for the rest of the gear. Reattaching the dagger sheathes and then putting on the cloak. Securing the hatchet. Feeling, once again, ready to take on the world. Leaving the armor shop and heading back in the direction of Mink.

“Why didn't you want the helm?” asks Morgan.

Looking at him, considering my answer. “I can't use it.”

“Did it not fit, was that the problem?”

Probing me for information or just curious? “It fit fine. You'll understand this afternoon after you speak with your master, but, for now, my best explanation is that I can't use it. And that's how it is.”

Nodding at my explanation, either in understanding or feigned understanding, irrelevant which. Leaving me alone for several more minutes and then opening his mouth again, “I don't remember seeing you back at the Academy.”

“No? Maybe you've got a bad memory.” Giving me a skeptical look. “Memory is a funny thing.”

“No,” he says. “My memory's pretty good, and I'm sure I'd remember you. You seem incapable of not standing out.”

“You saying I'm a pain in the ass?”

“No.” Calmly, not rising to the bait. “I'm only saying that I don't remember seeing you at the Academy, and I don't think you went.”

“What if I told you that I did?”

“Then I'd have to say-” Peering at me. “I'd have to say that you're a liar.”

Catching a fit of giggles at his bluntness, the response taking me off guard. “Well, I guess I won't say that then.”

“Well, then, neither will I.”

Continuing to walk.

“So,” he says, “if you didn't go to the Academy, how'd you end up getting here?”

“I don't know if I can tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because, if I did that, you might end up calling me a liar.” Flashing a smile.

“Um...” The boy visibly trying to come up with a rebuttal.

“C'mon, no need to stop, we're almost there. It's that big building.”

In front of Mink. The gap in the stone wall and the tower a tantalizingly close distance away.

“Why'd you stop here?”

“I want to see if you can get in. It should be good for a laugh.”

“You're not going to help?”

“I will if you need it, but right now you haven't earned it. Go try your luck.”

Morgan narrowing his eyes at me. Walking forward into the gap. Barely getting in and then fighting against the sudden wind that began buffeting against him, pushing him back outside the wall.

“That was good, you almost got it.”

Glowering at my obvious sarcasm.

Studying the right wall while he continued trying to gain entry. The shape of the stones not random, they'd been arranged. Studying the masonry, trying to figure out if there's some kind of pattern. Maybe these lines here? Something. Oh, he's trying the running start. Good job. Not going to work, but good effort.

Moving to the left wall and seeing if anything is different or sticking out. Are they the same? Stepping back a bit, trying to see both. Very similar. Something is definitely up with this. May not have anything to do with the wind, but it could be something else, which could lead to something else.

“Hey, you.” A voice from inside. “What's your business with Mink?”

Glancing in through the gap, a man at the door, not the same one as the other day. Well, that's no fun.

“I have business with Melissa Avery.” Yelling at the guard. “I have to speak with her. Let us in. If she's not available, I need to speak with Doria Matheson. It's urgent.”

“Who are you?” says the guard.

“Tell them it's Lucy from the card game.” Simple precaution, don't want to say my last name. “They'll know exactly who I am.”

“Alright, wait here, I'll see if either of them are available.” The guy going inside.

“Card game?” says Morgan.

“That's how I met them. Matheson told me how to find my master.”

“Oh, are you stopping by to say hello?”

“Not exactly. The reason I had to come over here before, and the reason you're here right now, it was because of something they did. Something they have the power to undo. I told them about it, but after seeing you guys - and while I still have the opportunity - I need to make them really understand and get them to fix it.”

“That's really sweet,” he says, “you're like a good samaritan.”

“Nothing like that.” Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. “I'm just of the opinion that if something's broken and I can fix it, I'm going to try to fix it.”

“Sounds like a good samaritan to me.” The boy giving me a smirk.

“Think what you will.”

Fifteen minutes later the door opening and the guard poking his head out. “Ms. Avery will see you, she's down in the common area.” Pulling out something from his cloak. What is that, exactly? Waving it to his left, my right. So this wall here. “Okay, it's open, come on in.”

Walking into the door with Morgan and then heading up the stairs to the open area.

“Who's Avery, anyway?”

“She's very influential. She's from the first expedition and in the leadership here. This year's tournament she made it to the semi finals, which was actually a bit of a disappointment. Last year she was in the top four. I guess either stiffer competition or worse luck. If anyone can help either of us, it's her.”

Getting to the House Mink common area. Kitchen and dining on one side, chairs and couches on the other, the walls completely see through, allowing the lounging members of Mink to look outside. Avery sitting in a chair near the landing. Seeing me and waving.

“Lucy, is that really you?” Getting up and giving me a hug. “I can hardly believe you're the same bedraggled girl that came in only a few days ago. I'd ask how you're doing but you're obviously doing well. I'm so glad. You're even wearing armor. You've really taken to this like a fish to water.”

“Ms. Avery, I need-”

“Melissa, please. Oh, and your friend is?”

“Tim, ma'am. Tim Morgan.”

“Tim, very nice to meet you.” The woman turning back to me. “What do you need my help with? I'm sorry, I'd assumed the worst and figured you needed some money, but something tells me that's not the case.”

“No, nothing like that. Melissa, I came here for two reasons. The first is because of Tim, and the second, um, actually it's because of Tim, as well.”

“Okay, I'm listening.” The woman blinking in confusion at my explanation. “Take a seat and I'll see if I can help.”

“First, Tim is in the same situation I was. He needs to find his master and get some training. He made it all the way to level 5 and got kicked out of the dorm without doing that.”

“Oh my,” says Avery. “That's actually a bit impressive. What class are you, Tim.”

“Magus.”

“Oh.” A slight strain crossing her expression, but quickly recovering. “Yes, I can certainly direct you to someone who can help with that.”

“Ma'am, Ms. Avery, thank you so much.”

“Not a problem, young man.” After another slight hesitation. “Glad to help.” Turning back to me. “And, the second?”

“The second is- it's much bigger. Much bigger. I spoke to you about it a few days ago, but I really need to impress on you how important it is. Two of Tim's friends are in the same situation as him, they all got kicked out of the dorm without ever receiving any training.”

“I see,” says Avery, nodding slowly, glancing from me to Morgan and back, “that sounds like it could be a problem.”

“You don't understand, it's a huge problem. If I wasn't neck deep in it I wouldn't have understood, myself. You have to talk to Director Shaker and try and get this fixed. My gut feeling is the entire incoming class has some sort of issue like that. It's seriously, hugely important and I'm begging you to do something.” Getting on my knees and Avery's eyes goggling out of her head. “Please, I am begging you. Please do something about it.”

“The entire class-” Avery's musing coming out in a soft tone, then firming up. “Lucy. Get up.” Sitting back in my seat. “You were absolutely right to bring this to my attention and, you're right, I really had no idea the breadth of the problem. If even half the class, a quarter of the class, is in this situation, it's an oversight of monumental proportions. I'll help your friend here and then I'm going to speak with the Director. Today. I'll tell him what you've told me and I'll make him understand, and I promise I'll make him do something about it. You have my word.”