Mehdi entered his new abode, ravenous and miserable. It was a cramped room with metal beds, stacked on top of each other like blocks. Mehdi had never seen such a thing, and could not help notice there was no railing or wall to protect against those who were on the top bed.
That was certainly not happening under any circumstances.
He set his bags down, glancing at the surrounding beds, only to notice an errant bag draped over each and every mattress on the lower bunks. Mehdi’s heart sank--he could see it now, he would fall asleep on the top bunk, and then turn idly in his sleep, as he did, and fall to the cold, hard floor, his nose breaking his fall and smashing into a thousand tiny bone pieces. And then he would suffocate and die, drowning in his own nose blood.
The vivid nature of such a thought panicked him, and he instantly dropped his bags in shock. He was truly stressed if such violent thoughts were afflicting him today. Mehdi took a deep breath, and shut his eyes, and let the thought drain out of him.
He would be fine. He would certainly not die. He was going to be a Mage.
Mehdi opened his eyes, full of calming power, knowing a bunk bed would not kill him. He glanced at his former opponent, saw how close to the ceiling it was, and realized that he was still very much terrified of the contraption, and he would much rather cry in a bathroom somewhere about it.
His escape was cruelly interrupted by a slew of other Mage initiates walking in, quietly placing their bags on the top bunks without much a thought. Mehdi quickly realized his predicament--not only was he doomed to sleep on a death trap, but the worst one. He quickly scrambled to the one nearest to the door, and placed his hand on the top of the mattress, idly chewing on the inside of his cheek in order to appear disinterested and not disheveled.
“You in this room with us?” Another young initiate asked, with a crooked nose and a scar above his eyebrow. He was gangly, like Mehdi, tall too.
“Mmhmm,” Mehdi nodded.
“You hear about the rules?”
“Yes, I received orientation,” Mehdi stated flatly.
“No. The other rules,” the initiate said.
Mehdi stared at him blankly.
“What’s your name?”
“Mehdi.”
“Kaspar Rebane the Fifth,” the initiate said. “My father was a Mage, and so was my father’s father. My family is quite known for its strong magical prowess,”
“All right,” Mehdi replied, not about to state his own family’s history.
“And I happen to know how this works. We live directly in Nevan, so I know the city pretty well too,” Kaspar continued.
“All right.”
Kaspar screwed his lips to the side. “I’m trying to help ya, brother.”
“I’m listening.”
“Right--so there’s all these hidden rules that no one tells you about, right? You’re supposed to learn them the hard way, or have an in,” Kaspar continued.
“All right.”
“For instance, do you know what happens if you get into a fight?” Kaspar asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“I don’t intend to get into any fights,” Mehdi said.
“Right but if you did. Like--if I were to push you into this wall, what would you do?” Kaspar stepped forward.
The other initiates were ignoring them, evidently already having this conversation.
“I’d...I dunno. Report it, I guess,” Mehdi said. “You’d be a right problem for doing that.”
Kaspar gave a small smile. “Oh, you’re lucky I got to you then, because that would be a great way to get beaten.”
Mehdi stared at this overly confident fourteen year old. Mehdi would bet money his family had never held a Mage in its life, and he was just conning everyone around him for a brief power trip.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Mehdi fluttered his eyelids, trying to appear focused. He missed Padgett. Padgett just kept talking, but evidently Kaspar expected, what? Emotional responses? A smile and wide eyes? Not exactly Mehdi’s style.
“You tell them you fell,” Kaspar said, his chest puffing out in pride. “You tell no one about the fight, keep mum, and if anyone asks, you say you fell.”
Mehdi couldn’t help but laugh. Just for a moment. If that wasn’t the stupidest concept he had ever heard in his life.
Kaspar’s smile was gone, and his eyes narrowed. “What you laughing at?”
“I’m not--” Mehdi tried to hide his annoyance. “I’m not lying to the Mages about a fight. That’s gratuitously absurd.”
The environment of the room shifted. Movements stopped, and now the initiates were staring at him. Great, he should have just kept his mouth shut.
“Why is it absurd, exactly?” Kaspar asked coolly.
Because Mages could tell a black eye from a falling bruise? Because lying created unnecessary miasma? Because it was fundamentally dishonest and needless? Because the concept of snitching was something created by five year olds who didn’t want to admit they had broken the vase in the foyer?
“Maybe I just misunderstood,” Mehdi said, glancing briefly back at the initiates who now watched him with strained eyes. “I just don’t see why anyone would do that.”
“If you don’t, no one will trust you, and no one will work with you,” Kaspar said.
Well, that was even stupider. Why would lying mean people would trust him? Besides, did he honestly want the company of those who lied?
“I see,” Mehdi said neutrally. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Yeah. You should,” Kaspar said.
Mehdi didn’t respond, but Kaspar’s eyes darted up and down Mehdi’s frame. Mehdi had been very lucky to be tall for most of his age. It tended to stop him from being a target for nonsense, but Kaspar matched him, and now he realized, so did a great deal of other initiates. He certainly wasn't in Bricketfriar anymore, instead now in a base with a sea of initiates with broad shoulders or hard jawlines.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Mehdi was. Neither of those things.
He was lean, yes, but he had a soft, babyish face, and weird bony arms. Surely, no one would actually pick a fight with him? He wasn’t about to insult anyone, he had never been the type. He just had to do what he always did. Stay quiet, be a good worker, and do the extra leg work so he never caused a problem.
Kaspar left him alone, as did the others, and Mehdi breathed a small sigh of relief. The only issue was now his bed--he could of course, ask someone to swap, someone who didn’t mind, but that would involve talking to someone new, and admitting he was terrified of falling in his sleep. This would simply not do. So, instead, with much graceless struggle, he moved his bags to the top bunk he had claimed, and lumbered on top, barely comfortable.
It was a while before nightfall. In a daze, Mehdi found the mess hall, had a small meal of boiled beef and vegetables, absolutely tasteless and miserable. He tried on the uniform he had been given, that had been built for someone broader. It was a simplified version of the designs he had seen before, entirely black on one side, entirely white on the other, with a few intermittent triangles. It was a broad overcoat, with pants, shirt and a vest underneath. Surprisingly, the fabric breathed more than it looked at first glance. It wasn’t comfortable, but Mehdi had been worried he’d essentially be wearing a heavy coat for the rest of his days, but the fabric itself was thin and light, if admittedly rigid.
He had a schedule as well. Exercise in the morning, lunch at noon, and then classes in the afternoon, followed by more drills afterwards. The timing would change, but the general concept would be his next four years, until he was a Mage. He wasn’t too sure on the specifics beyond that, as further information was written in long and hard to read words. He could read the times and the locations, at least. It was honestly ridiculous that they expected a bunch of fourteen year olds fresh off of Adreday to read.
He knew he wasn’t alone in this either, as the other boys in his room complained vocally about the same thing, with far more gusto and vitriol than Mehdi could muster on a good day, let alone one as exhausting as this one.
To his confusion, when the lights were extinguished, it was only Mehdi who tried to go to bed. The rest of the boys sat quietly, still dressed, waiting. Mehdi remained still, his one arm clinging to the top of the bunk he was trying to grapple onto, and his other hanging limply. What did they know that he didn’t?
Trapped in a thoroughly awkward moment, still in the dark, Mehdi remained stationary, half on his bed, half not. It wasn’t like he wanted to really fully get on in the first place, the bunk made a loud creaking noise with every movement, and there was a slight shift of the wood and metal from his weight that made him absolutely convinced he would die tonight.
As nothing continued to happen, Mehdi gave up, and awkwardly climbed into the bunk bed. He decided to sleep against the wall, for safety, but quickly saw there was a small yet sizable gap there as well. He was on a veritable island of bed, with nothing to stop him from tumbling over.
Mehdi finally hit an uneasy compromise, digging his feet into the small wooden walls that contained the mattress. He would just not have to toss and turn too much, and remain stationary in his sleep for the next three years or so, and he would be fine.
Just as he got comfortable and had started to drift off to a somewhat peaceful sleep, there was a knock on their door. And not just a soft knock, but a loud, obnoxious pattern of fists banging on the door, coupled with yelling.
“Wake up, initiates!” scattered voices yelled, echoing across the hallway.
The initiates left the dorm, leaving Mehdi alone. Had that been a teacher yelling for them? Was this some sort of secret lesson? Or older Mages playing a prank? Despite Mehdi’s better judgment, curiosity overwhelmed him and he took off after his peers to see what was going on.
Mehdi staggered down the hallway with the other initiates, until they entered a small plaza. It wasn’t the one Mehdi had entered into, with the large fountain, but more comparable to a garden with brick pathways, and building on every side.
There were maybe about forty initiates gathered into the garden plaza, a much smaller number than Mehdi was expecting, considering how they had banged on all the doors. Perhaps more initiates would arrive over the upcoming weeks, or some had had the good sense to go to bed and not partake in whatever ridiculous situation this was turning out to be.
“Greetings!” a deep, nasal voice called from the marble statue on the other side of the garden. A young Mage pulled down his hood, and lifted his hand to the sky with a bright magic light. The other Mages did the same.
Maybe ‘Mage’ wasn’t the correct word here. They were not clad in the uniforms that Mehdi had seen in Bricketfriar and in the morning, but the same, simplified outfits he himself had been given. These were not proper Mages, just more initiates who were maybe a few years older at best.
“Your journey has yet to begin!” the young Mage said. He had a pudgy, rectangular face, and short brown hair that seemed to naturally spike up at the front. The type of guy that would never be tall, but most likely kick anyone’s ass who dared to remind him of the fact.
“Begin! Begin!” the other young Mages chanted, tossing the magical lights around like they were toys.
This was stupid. Was this some sort of club initiation ritual? Mehdi was not interested. He didn’t need to be a special Mage, he just needed to be a Mage.
“To prove your worth as a Mage, you must go to the Tourmaline Fountain and dive for a token--any token will do. If you can get one without being caught, you must deposit it in the soup stand in the mess hall, or you will be plagued with bad luck and miasma for the rest of your days!” the young Mage continued in an almost lyrical tone.
Oh. Mehdi had misjudged. This wasn’t just stupid, this was severely stupid.
“Isn’t the fountain guarded?” one of Mehdi’s peers asked.
The young Mages cackled, and the one speaking in particular gave a booming laugh that almost sounded like it belonged in a stage production. It wasn’t scary or intimidating, it was silly.
“If you get caught, you will certainly be expelled, but if you take the cowards way out--” the young Mage paused. “Well perhaps you’d be better off as a Tower--the pregnant kind.”
Rounds of laughter and hooting and hollering came from the young Mages. Mehdi was highly unimpressed.
“Morning rounds start in five hours, you better get going!” the young Mage continued, smirking and constantly moving his eyebrows up and down.
The first year initiates turned to run, pushing right past Mehdi and back in the building. A few stayed behind, but it wasn’t long before they followed too once the stampede had ended.
“Use those long legs, initiate!” the young Mage yelled.
Mehdi stared blankly at the ground for a few moments, and then realized he was being talked to.
“Uh--I’m good,” Mehdi said, realizing he should have just left with the initiates and broken off to go back to his room.
“What?” the young Mage narrowed his eyes.
“I’m just gonna--bye.” Mehdi turned around and walked away without another word. He went down the hallway and back to his dorm, clamored onto the horrifying top bunk and covered himself in as many blankets as he could muster.
It was not the most graceful way to leave, but Mehdi did feel proud of himself. He had stuck to his values and his core. He was not here to impress those initiates, he was here to impress his teachers.
Should he have reported that? No, that would have gotten everyone in trouble, and they would blame him. It was best to just avoid the situation unless they made it his problem. It wasn’t like the older initiates even got a good look at his face, or knew or cared who he was. If the other initiates were stupid enough to dive into a fountain in the middle of the night, then they would get what was coming to them, from the Mages who patrolled the building. There was no way someplace like the fountain wasn’t patrolled.
The day had been undeniably strange, and Kaspar’s words rang back in his ears. There was a lot of focus on breaking the rules for a place that should be all about the rules. Mages were, after all, the most elite core in all of Kesterline. Surely this was an anomaly of some kind.
Mehdi thought back to Noe and the near fight he had in the train. But even Noe had listened to the Regent. And that’s what Mehdi was doing now--it was everyone else who was being disobedient for the sake of it.
Mehdi was being a good kid.
That had been what he was tested on, right? He had been asked about loyalty or honesty. Well, now he was being both. Loyal to the Mages and he would be as honest as needed as well. It had been everyone else who had decided to compromise their values for--what? Popularity? Clout? Social power? Fear of being ostracized?
Jokes on them, Mehdi didn’t want to be popular. Being popular meant people stared at him. Doing strange tasks like diving into a fountain was just one giant attention seeking extravaganza. Mehdi was going to do the smart thing and keep his head down.
With his conscience assured, and the events he had just seen seeming more and more like a weird dream with only the other empty beds as proof that it wasn’t, Mehdi lulled himself into a calm, deep sleep.