Three months. That was the amount of time expected for Mehdi to heal. So he laid in the bed, in medical, being fussed over by Towcard, utterly ashamed of himself and all his choices. He had betrayed his own values, all out of fear of a bunch of bullies.

He should have looked them dead in the eye and told A Volterra it was them who had done it. But instead Mehdi had been a coward. Instead, here he was, in medical, about to cry to himself when no one was looking.

He missed his core test. No one had told him that he needed to be in the peak of health to take the test, so that was incredibly fun news to learn offhand from Towcard as his broken leg and arm were bound up in a cast and he intimately learned what a catheter was.

Mehdi exhaled in a soft, slow annoyance. The worst part wasn’t even the pain, it was the fact that for the past few weeks he had been waking up every day to run, every day to eat the proper way, make his bed the proper way, and now he was just supposed to lie in bed without anything to do, because no one could be damned to talk to him.

He could handle loneliness, but usually he was doing something during those solitary times.

He started counting the tiles, the patterns, the strange little instruments that Towcard kept around. He watched patients come in for sniffles or rashes, Mages with truly strange and baffling injuries that Towcard didn’t so much as blink at.

Mages, as it turned out, didn’t like Towcard much.

Mehdi watched from his bed as a Mage strolled in, cursed Towcard out whilst Towcard refilled the Mage's pain medication, and then at the end, implied Towcard should be castrated for his crimes against humanity. Another yelled at Towcard for a full hour over something Towcard refused to talk about, because it was top secret.

Today, a very muscular Mage came in and grabbed Towcard by the neck, screaming profanities and obscenities. Apparently the Mage’s wife had come in, and Towcard had… not treated her well? It was honestly unclear.

Towcard certainly didn’t talk much about it afterwards. He was a chatty jerk, but not about any of the other patients. He would occasionally talk about Bricketfriar, his eyes alight in passion, but it never progressed beyond that.

Mehdi didn’t really want to be talked to by Towcard anyway. Mehdi had been bullied by a bunch of bratty initiates for the crime of not playing along, and when he had told A Volterra, they had all gotten punished.

If the Mages hated Towcard, perhaps it was best if Mehdi did too. Or at least, didn’t appear to be friendly with him. The last thing Mehdi wanted was to heal from his injuries and then immediately fall into another reason to get pushed down a hill.

“You know,” Towcard said, as he idly brushed some sort of healing powder on his neck to hide the bruises of the Mage that tried to throttle him. “If you knew how to read, I could get you a book or two. I have loads of them.”

“Eh,” Mehdi mumbled noncommittally.

“Not your thing?”

Mehdi shrugged and didn’t verbalize a response.

“Well, I’ll be keeping you for another week, and then you’ll be transferred to a dorm,” Towcard said, putting the powder away. It was amazing how the bruising was invisible now, Mehdi wouldn’t have even known he had been injured in the first place.

“The dorm I was in?” Mehdi asked.

“Oh, goodness no, there’s an intermediary dorm. You’re not the only one with injuries here. They’ll put you on a rehab program, and you’re young, so it will be fine,” Towcard said. “Six months from now you won’t even remember how boring this was.”

Mehdi sighed. He hadn’t said he was struggling, but perhaps Towcard could tell.

“Unless there’s a reason you don’t want to return,” Towcard said quietly.

“I want to,” Mehdi replied.

Towcard didn’t reply, but instead smiled and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He picked up his long pipe holder, and went to leave medical. His journey was interrupted by a mage and an initiate at the door. There were some mumblings, a conversation Mehdi couldn’t hear, and then the three walked in, Towcard stowing away his pipe holder with a disappointed sigh.

The initiate was the short blond boy who Mehdi had seen when he first got his health check up. He was in ill fitting Mage robes, with eyes constantly darting to every wall as if he was looking for an escape. The three went into the backroom, leaving Mehdi behind.

There really wasn’t much privacy to be had, even with Towcard gone. Perhaps he could scratch at his groin a bit more obviously, but there really wasn’t much to do. It just meant there wasn’t someone around to watch. Mehdi didn’t know how long the three would be gone, but they were certainly quiet about it. No yelling, no threats, nothing.

He had barely a few minutes to himself, when another Mage barged in. He was wearing the same uniform as everyone else, but with several gold bands across the cuffs, along with the symbol of the red heart to show he was a Regent.

The man was incredibly generic looking. Short brown hair with gray-white streaks, a clear face, square jawline, and a slim but sturdy build.

“Initiate,” the man said warmly. “Have you perchance ran into Doctor Bisset recently?”

“You mean Towcard?” Mehdi asked.

The man smiled.

“Yeah he went into that room with another Mage and an initiate,” Mehdi said, pointing with his good arm.

“Ah. Excellent.”

The man left, leaving Mehdi alone yet again. There was just a party going on and evidently Mehdi wasn’t invited.

This time, however, Mehdi heard a noise. Towcard yelled--not one of horror or pain or shock, it was just a loud exclamatory shout. Towcard opened the door, grinning, pointing directly at Mehdi.

“There’s your man, Quolle!”

The Mage named Quolle’s pleasant smile disappeared. “Ah.”

Oh. Great. He was already in trouble. He hadn’t even done anything yet.

The man named Quolle pulled up a chair and sat down, staring directly into Mehdi’s eyes.

“Mehdi Lucrece, is it?”

“Y-yes,” Mehdi sputtered. Were they going to ask about what happened at the factory? Did he tell the truth?

“Your sister is Ceyda Lucrece?” Quolle asked.

Out of all the questions, Mehdi wasn’t expecting that one.

“Uh. Yes. That’s her,” Mehdi replied.

Quolle nodded, and extended his hand. “Raphael Quolle.”

Mehdi gingerly shook it.

“I’m the vice-head of the Nevan base.”

“Oh,” Mehdi said quietly.

“And I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right.”

Mehdi stared at the very important and high ranking Mage. “Of course.”

“Can you tell me more about your sister?”

Mehdi wasn’t a cursing man, but at this moment he wanted to. What on this planet and nation and great sacred skies above did his sister have to do with anything?

“Uh, she’s a Chatelaine, she’s kind of stupid, she’s sixteen, she likes to read, she eats too much, she smiles a lot, she’s annoying, she acts like she’s five, um--” Mehdi kept listing facts, trying to figure out what sort of information an extremely powerful Mage was looking for about his sister. “--she is super rude and constantly talks to boys, although I didn’t see that, that’s just what my mom complains about, she also complains about um--other things.”

Raphael Quolle nodded. “No interest in, say, magic?”

“Oh she had loads of interest. We used to play Mages and rebels in the garden and she refused to ever be a rebel,” Mehdi answered. “Granted she was like, eight. So.”

“And have you been dreaming about her recently?”

Mehdi stared at Quolle blankly. “Uhhh, I don’t really. Have dreams. Last dream I remembered I was playing a game of checkers but it was life size but also my old teacher was there and--”

He stopped talking. Probably not what Raphael Quolle, very important Mage, was looking for.

“And--how long have you been injured?”

“Four days,” Mehdi replied.

“Shit,” Raphael muttered.

Mehdi shifted uncomfortably at the curse.

“Doctor Bisset!” Raphael yelled across the room.

Towcard stepped back in. “Yes?”

“We have a problem,” Raphael said.

“You will have to specify.”

“I would like to know this initiates subcore posthaste.”

“Well that’s not my job, you’d have to talk to Hester. He’s the Mage on duty.”

Raphael shook his head. “No. You misunderstand what I am asking. You are already using the key, are you not?”

Towcard looked at Mehdi, at Raphael, back to Mehdi, and back to Raphael.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Is it your job to ask questions?” Raphael shot back.

Towcard deflated. “Well, all right, but we already got a kid in there, it’s set up--”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“For how long?”

“Eight turns.”

“That’s fine by me.”

Towcard’s smile came across more like bared teeth now. “Wonderful. All right. Is it… forgive me, sir, but what is so important that we need to know Mehdi’s subcore now?”

Raphael Quolle raised an eyebrow. Towcard sighed, and quickly scrambled over to Mehdi, pulling out a wheelchair from the closet.

“What’s--what’s going on?” Mehdi asked.

“We’re going to take you to a different room,” Towcard said, explaining absolutely nothing.

There was a quick, almost frenzied process as Mehdi was released from anything keeping him to the bed, and gracelessly dropped into a wheelchair. He was wheeled into the other room, which revealed some velvet couches and a very confused Mage. The blond initiate was not present.

“He’s going to go in for the ride,” Towcard said, his teeth bared into a full grin.

The Mage stared at Towcard and then Quolle blankly. “Uh. Why.”

Quolle stared at the Mage, and without a word the Mage walked to Mehdi’s left. There was an ornate, wooden door, with a heavy silver key in the lock.

The Mage closed his eyes, and started to rub his thumb across the handle of the key. Mehdi watched in confusion as the key started to faintly glow.

“What is that?” Mehdi whispered.

“You’ll be taking a brief trip into the Demesne of All,” Raphael said. “One of our most closely guarded secrets.”

“What--why?” Mehdi stared at the Mages in confusion.

“You’ll heal faster,” Towcard explain. “Just relax, don’t bother the other initiate in there, and everything will be fine, I promise. Remember to breathe.”

The ornate door opened, revealing an inky black void behind it.

“Um, I would like to. Not go there,” Mehdi pleaded.

But he was already being wheeled in. There was nothing he could do, beyond standing up on his one good leg and flopping around dramatically.

He shut his eyes in horror as the door shut behind him. Was he in some sort of ancient magic sanctuary, did he dare to look? He was awfully terrified of looking. He didn’t feel anything magical, and his arm still hurt, so it wasn’t like that had been fixed.

“Can I help you?” a voice called to him.

Mehdi opened his eyes to see the blond initiate. He had discarded his Mage coat, and was wearing just the vest and pants, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, revealing bumpy red rashes covering his skin. His blond hair was in a short ponytail, sticking out the back like a nub.

“I’m--supposed to heal in here?” Mehdi said weakly.

The blond initiate shrugged. “Okay.”

The two were in, what appeared to be, a two story library. Books were crammed in every level, shelf, and available space. A window gave a single stream of light, while lit gaslamps and candles were scattered across the cluttered tables and floor.

The blond initiate walked over to an ornate chair, sat down, and slumped forward. Mehdi awkwardly wheeled himself forward with his one good arm, until the other boy took pity on him, stood back up, and wheeled him to the table.

“So, this is the Demesne of All?” Mehdi asked.

“I guess,” the initiate muttered, idly paging through a book.

“It doesn’t seem very…”

“Magical? Yeah, no shit,” the initiate sighed.

“You’re Barnabus, right?” Mehdi asked.

Barnabus’ eyes darted up at Mehdi in confusion. “How did you know that?”

“Uh--Towcard called you that. When you were getting your check up, way back at sign in. I was next in line,” Mehdi said.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m just on edge,” Barnabus muttered.

“Yes, well,” Mehdi trailed off, glancing at his casts.

“Wait, shit, you’re the one who--” Barnabus looked Mehdi up and down.

Mehdi sighed. Great. Barnabus had been there. “Got pushed down a hill in a barrel? Yeah”

“...s’fucked up what they did to you,” Barnabus said quietly. “Like, really fucked up.”

“You don’t need to curse so much.”

“Sorry. Bad habit.”

“Never had your mouth washed with soap?” Mehdi asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh--oh I did,” Barnabus said, closing a book he definitely did not fully read. “It just never took.”

“Ah.”

Barnabus sighed, tossing the book off the table. “None of these books are even in ffreaking Lystratan, I swear.”

“Let me look at it,” Mehdi offered his hand.

Barnabus tossed him another book, and Mehdi idly thumbed through the contents.

We assume acceleration is constant, and with these methods we are able to get the first glimpse into the meaning of motion, which we depict and inscribe as

a = dv / dt

dv = adt

“Well that’s--I think that’s math? That looks like math,” Mehdi said.

“Math doesn’t have letters in it,” Barnabus hissed, digging his fingers into his face in annoyance.

“I think it can--my dad deals with finances and it sorta looks like this,” Mehdi frowned, as he tried to understand the contents. “Are all the books like this?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re reading them for fun?”

“No. I have to.”

This surprised Mehdi. “What do you mean, have to?”

Barnabus shrugged. “I took my subcore test, and next thing I know I’m being escorted into here, saying I need to teach myself how to read. Which--okay I know how to read pretty okay, right? But not--not like this!”

“What did you get?”

Barnabus stared at Mehdi momentarily.

“What subcore did you get?” Mehdi repeated.

“Volterra,” Barnabus responded.

“Oh, is that what you wanted?” Mehdi asked, not actually knowing if such a subcore was considered prestigious or not.

“I didn’t even want to be a Mage, man,” Barnabus muttered.

“Me neither!” Mehdi replied brightly.

Barnabus gave a laugh, and pushed his bangs from out of his face. “Well, that makes two of us, I guess.”

“I just wanted to be a Spearhead, get a fishing fleet, explore the ocean, that sort of thing,” Mehdi said.

“Oh, yeah? That sounds amazing. What were you going to do with what you found?”

Mehdi paused. No one had asked him that question before. They often just nodded when he said his dream and continued onwards. Crud. What did he do now. “I don’t know.”

Barnabus snorted. “Well, I guess it certainly sounds cool. No masters no schedule, just you and your crew traversing the seas.”

“Yeah. Apparently there’s loads of poison in the ocean, so I’d have to avoid most of the deep seas but--” Mehdi’s smile faltered. He looked down at the table. “--it doesn’t really matter. I’m a Mage.”

“Apparently the Corsairs go on a lot of oceanic expeditions,” Barnabus said. “You could join them.”

Mehdi stared at Barnabus in confusion.

“Uh...it’s like a squadron? If you pay attention to how the Mages talk, they’re always trying to get into different squadrons, and the Corsair squadron is apparently pretty elite and they often patrol the ocean.”

Mehdi groaned. “Honestly. First the subcores, now this, how many categories are Mages in? At some point it just sounds exhausting.”

“I dunno, I guess they have nothing better to do. Like, you’re given a plot of land, a house, a wife, a stipend, and that’s when you’re off duty,” Barnabus said. “With all that luxury, maybe they just get bored.”

“That doesn’t sound too luxurious to me,” Mehdi replied. “Everyone lives in a house with land, after all.”

“Well, not everyone.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“...Pillars?”

“Well, they live in houses don’t they?” Mehdi tilted his head.

“Right but--they don’t own the land? Someone could come along and kick them off any day,” Barnabus tapped his fingers on the table.

“Oh, well, I suppose,” Mehdi shrugged. “I don’t really see what that has to do with anything.”

Barnabus sighed and smiled. “Yeah. I guess it doesn’t.”

There was a silence as Barnabus idly thumbed through the books. Mehdi rolled his head in boredom. He was really just expected to stay here for a few hours, huh?

“Hey, Barnabus, roll me over to that corner,” Mehdi said.

Barnabus looked over to where Mehdi was looking, a particularly cluttered part of the library, with books scattered across the floor and gramophone discs removed from their sleeves.

“Why?” Barnabus asked as he stood up and wheeled Mehdi over.

“I figured I’d make myself useful and, I dunno--clean?”

Barnabus snickered. “That’s a bit--uh--”

Mehdi blushed. “Oh shut up! Mages are supposed to keep their damn room tidy! And I’ve been stuck in bed for four days!”

“Sorry, yeah, it’s just, well, the other boys in my dorm were super pissed at even having to polish their own shoes,” Barnabus said. “Absolute infants, the lot of them.”

“Whenever the servants had days off, I usually had to keep myself tidy,” Mehdi admitted. “The Lucrece family isn’t exactly known for its wealth.”

Barnabus shrugged idly.

Mehdi picked up a black record, and squinted at the faded lettering. He would have to match this to one of the thousand sleeves scattered across the room. This could take weeks, easily. But maybe he could organize just a little while he was here.

“What about you?” Mehdi asked, admittedly curious.

“Hm?”

“Your family.”

“Oh. Oh gosh. I barely think of them,” Barnabus said.

“Right, I meant, you know. Your name.”

Barnabus sighed and tossed another book gracelessly against the wall. “Barnabus Sinclair. Of the Sinclair family. My parents died when I was young, leaving just my very blind, very senile, grandfather to raise me. I basically spent my time wandering the halls of a giant manor and talking to the servants.”

“Well, crap,” Mehdi said. “I’m--I’m sorry.”

“Eh. Don’t be. People just die sometimes,” Barnabas said dispassionately. “Surely you know someone who’s died."

Mehdi shook his head. “I think I have a few cousins who died, but to be honest, my mom and dad moved to Bricketfriar before I was born, so I barely see them.”

“Oh. So you just. Never saw a dead guy before.”

“No.”

Barnabus stared at the wall. “That’s weird, man.”

Mehdi started slipping the records into the sleeves, one by one. “I feel like you’re the weird one here.”

“Yeah. Probably. At least I’m a delight to talk to.”

Mehdi smiled. “I will admit, the conversation here has been terribly lacking. I suspect everyone hates me to my very core.”

“It’s because they’re all brainwashed jackasses,” Barnabus muttered, scratching his arms in rhythm to his insults. “I know you hate cursing, but you ever see how some of them walk around? Like they own the place.”

“They probably do own the place.”

“Yeah, but--” Barnabus trailed off. “I dunno. It just pisses me off, that’s all. Doesn’t it piss you off?”

Mehdi shrugged. “That seems like a lot of time to have emotions that just make me sick.”

“Right, yeah, but you can’t just. Control how you feel.”

“Sure you can.”

Barnabas stared at Mehdi, narrowing his eyes. “So you chose to puke your guts out on the laps?”

“Emotions aren’t the same as exhaustion,” Mehdi replied, stacking the sleeves up in what he was pretty sure was alphabetical order.

“Ok but… you seemed pretty shaken up when that happened. I’m just saying.”

“I can control some of my emotions, some of the time,” Mehdi snapped, getting a bit annoyed now. “Didn’t you ever go through breathing exercises with your Ritesgiver?”

“Yeah, yeah I did,” Barnabus said. “I guess--”

Barnabus didn’t finish his thought. He idly stepped over and handed Mehdi a few of the books and records that were directly behind his wheelchair.

After a few more moments of idle shuffling, Barnabus leaned against the wall and looked at Mehdi, pushing his long blond hair back in a ponytail, as he idly fiddled with the rubberband.

“I guess I just really wish we didn’t have to do this,” Barnabus sighed. “You know? Like not have to wake up every day to run and eat right and get pushed around by other guys with better families than ours.”

Mehdi shrugged. He reached down to grab another book, but found he had cleared the floor already. “It is what it is. As much as we want to fight against it, we can’t. They’re our cores. We’re Mages. And so are everyone else. It’s in our blood, our soul, our everything.”

Barnabus made a grumbling noise. “I just wish my blood had something else in it.”

Mehdi nodded. “Me too. Mind wheeling me over there?”

Barnabus wheeled Mehdi over to another equally messy corner, this time near the window. Strangely, when Mehdi looked outside the window, he saw no grass, no Nevan, nothing. Just a brilliantly lit window, as if the sun was coming in from all directions.

Stranger still, Mehdi realized, there should be no sunlight down here whatsoever. Towcard’s office was in the basement, far away from any sort of sunlight.

Mehdi squinted at the white void outside the window, and ran his thumb across the sill, wondering if he should open it, if just for a moment.

There were two tiny letters engraved in the windowsill, perhaps some Mage who had once wished for love.

Q + Z

“Hey, Mehdi, you done there?” Barnabus called.

Mehdi looked back at the neatly organized corner near the window. He had finished it a while ago and hadn’t even noticed. Fancy that.

“Yep, you think we should take a break?” Mehdi asked. “It’s probably going to be lunch time soon, right?”

Barnabus shrugged. “You hungry?”

Mehdi shook his head. “Nope.”

“Me neither.”

And with that, the two returned to their chores, quietly and contentedly, thinking of nothing else at all.