Pretending he had purpose, Jace marched along a boardwalk through the garden, with Kinfild and Lessa close behind.
People crowded him on all sides, jostling and pushing. None of them yelled, but the chatter was still oppressive. The partygoers spoke among themselves softly and quickly, as if, at any moment, they would be asked to commit to an unsavoury deal. Servants wove through the crowd, delivering drinks and appetizers to the well-dressed men and women. They moved so quickly their blue vests became a blur.
“Where…where would we find this Elder Stenol?” Jace asked Kinfild. They reached the opposite edge of the tower, and Jace hadn’t seen anyone who looked remotely like Kinfild—let alone an Elder Professor or a patriarch. He turned around and leaned against a set of concrete wind baffles. “This is an Academy for your kind, right?”
“For arcane mastery and arcane studies,” said Kinfild. “Even if you are not a Wielder, you can study here. The majority of students don’t have magic.”
“But—”
Kinfild raised his fingers. “Everything we have is made possible through the Split; through the arcane. Our starships? Our energy, our transportation. Our food—we couldn’t make enough of it without a few technique cards embedded deep within the machines.” He paused for a second to stroke his beard. “Academies like this put that power in the hands of the common folk.”
“So these are all students?”
“Today, there are more than just university students here. I spotted a few Phélese lords, not to mention a dwarven Ironband Baron. From the looks of it, Stenol has invited diplomats and leaders from all around the galaxy.”
“How about we ask around, then? What about that…bar?” Jace pointed towards the center of the garden, where a conical overhang hovered above a counter. A kyborg bartender shook silver canisters with its four arms and rolled around on its small treads, all while scrutinizing its guests with a single mechanical eye.
Jace led the way again, following the boardwalk. He caught quite a few angry glares from the partygoers as he brushed past them. It didn’t amount to anything more than entitled scoffing.
Once they reached the bar, Jace nearly sat down on one of the stools, but he was younger than Kinfild, and nowhere near as well-dressed. He’d probably look like a servant or an underling, and it couldn’t have been acceptable to sit without command. Motioning towards the seat, he said to Kinfild pointedly, “Please, sir, sit.”
“Thank you.” Kinfild grinned.
The bartender kyborg trundled over and let out a clicking sound.
“Bartender?” Kinfild asked, reaching a hand out. “Where might I find Elder Stenol?”
The kyborg clicked again, followed by a single clank.
“I know he’s here,” Kinfild sighed exasperatedly.
The kyborg chittered again.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“No, no, it’s not a product or substance,” Kinfild groaned. “He’s your master and an Elder-Professor at this institution.”
For a second, the kyborg stared blankly at Kinfild, then clanked once.
“No, no, not a drink, either—”
This time, the kyborg clanked twice.
“Why do you want more information? I need—” Kinfild lowered his head, then, with force, enunciated every syllable with precision: “El-der Ste-nol.”
The gear in the side of the kyborg’s head jammed. The robot stopped shaking the metal canister it carried, then blew a puff of steam out a vent in its side.
Kinfild groaned, then turned back to Jace and Lessa. “Split-forsaken fungal computers. Supposedly, they’re ‘artificially intelligent’, but even Aur-Six is smarter than that.”
“Maybe you just need to try—” Jace cut himself off. A sleek humanoid alien was walking directly toward them. It had the head of an otter, but with long pointed ears and bright white tusks. Still, it wore the uniform of the servers, and carried a tray with a champagne glass on it. “Heads up,” he whispered.
“Good evening, Kinfild,” the otter-creature said.
“I hope it’s actually good, this time,” Kinfild muttered. “I don’t recognize you.”
The tag above its head read, [Level 4 Servant]. The creature itself was as regular as they came—barring its appearance.
“That is quite understandable, sir.” The otter-creature bowed, then placed his hand on his chest in a friendly gesture. “I’ve been sent by Stenol to summon you. You are a little late, but if you hurry, you can still make it to the meeting—if you’d care to join us.”
“The…the meeting?” Lessa asked. “What meet—”
Before she could finish, Kinfild nudged her. He told the otter, “Yes, yes, the meeting. I almost forgot.”
Jace nodded frantically to keep up the lie. “We wouldn’t dare be late.”
“Very good, sirs and madam,” the otter-creature said. “Follow me, please.”
Jace exchanged a hesitant glance with Kinfild and Lessa. They seemed just as shocked by the invitation, but there was no other choice. They followed the otter-alien. Jace wanted to be dumbfounded by such a creature, but after everything that had happened, an alien seemed like the least of his worries. He forced himself to take a step, then another, and another.
“There was a meeting?” Jace hissed. “You didn’t have a meeting planned, right?”
“I have no idea,” Kinfild replied. “But they seem to think we do. Whatever it is, it must be important.”
They arrived at an elevator hub at the edge of the triangular rooftop. Two armed soldiers with holographic helmet plumes—[Level 7 Koedor-Terginian Soldier]—stood outside the small room. When the otter-alien bowed to them, they stepped aside. Lessa struck one of the guards with her tail as she passed. The man said nothing, but he did deliver an annoyed scowl.
“Whoops…” she whispered. “Oh, it’ll probably just pass for a fancy costume, here…”
The hub’s doors hissed open with a puff of steam. Once the veil dispersed, the otter-creature led them into a small pod within.
The otter-alien tapped a pattern of buttons on the elevator’s control panel. A metal rod extended from the wall and he twisted it. The elevator pod responded—they dropped.
“When we see Stenol, please let me do the talking,” Kinfild instructed in a quiet voice. “There will be Koedor-Terginian soldiers—keep your eyes out for them. We don’t know what they might try.”
The otter-creature turned his head, but said nothing.
“Just be ready for anything,” Kinfild muttered—so softly that Jace could barely hear him.
“That’s a tall order,” Jace whispered back. He didn’t trust that Kinfild was even ready for what might happen. He might need to take matters into his own hands.
Before Kinfild could respond, the elevator pod stopped. A tone chimed, and the two doors slid apart. They had arrived.