First thing in the morning, Otter dressed in one of the Academy uniforms from the wardrobe. He needed to do everything he could to appear like he truly belonged here. Then he left his room to meet with Cal for their orientation.
The common room of the dormitory was cozy but sparse. A large stone fireplace dominated one wall, though the fire inside burned low, casting flickering shadows across the worn wooden floor. Simple chairs and benches were arranged in a loose circle around the hearth, and Otter sat on one of them.
The other recruits assigned to Cal were filtering in. Some looked eager, others nervous. Lyle and Torrin were the last to arrive. Their clothes were rumpled and eyes a little bloodshot. Otter glared at them as they found seats. Cal stood by the fireplace. His posture was relaxed, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that suggested he missed nothing.
“Everyone here?” Cal asked, scanning the group. “Good. Let’s get started.”
He stepped forward, hands tucked into his pockets.
“Here’s the deal,” Cal continued. “This isn’t some noble’s manor where you can sit back and ride on your family name. No one here cares if your parents are merchants, blacksmiths, or lords. The only thing that matters is your effort.”
He glanced around the room.
“You’ll be expected to attend classes, complete assignments, and prove yourself every day. You slack off, you fall behind, and the Academy will cut you loose without a second thought.”
Otter sat up straighter, taking in every word.
“Now, as your RA, my job is to keep you alive and help you navigate the place—when I feel like it.” Cal grinned faintly. “You’ve got questions? Ask me. You’ve got problems? Bring them to me. But don’t expect me to hold your hand. We don’t have too many rules around here. But the ones we do have, you better follow.”
He began pacing in front of the fireplace, ticking off the rules on his fingers.
“One: Curfew is at nine. Don’t push it. You don’t want to meet the night patrol uninvited.”
“Two: No unauthorized magic or weapons outside training areas. The instructors don’t care if you’re a prodigy—they’ll drop you on the spot if you step out of line.”
Good thing Otter stashed his knife earlier.
“Three: Respect your fellow students. That doesn’t mean you have to like them, but you’ll keep your hands to yourself unless you’re in a sanctioned match.”
Otter noticed Lyle smirk at that, nudging Torrin. He wondered how long it would take before someone tested that rule.
“Four: Clean up after yourself. Your mother doesn’t live here and we don’t have a clean-up crew. This is the one you’ll lose privileges for. I can pull your access to the commissary, assign extra work details, pretty much make your life miserable if you act like some rich kid expecting me or someone else to clean up your messes.”
There were a few groans at this revelation. Otter figured the loudest was probably from a noble family who had servants to do that kind of work.
“And lastly, Rule 5: Never put personal gain above the safety of the academy. Yes, I know we’re all here to improve. Advancement is what its all about, but not at all costs. One of the most important things you’ll learn here is how to work as a team. When you’re out in the field, your team comes first. That’s how everybody survives. That mindset starts here and now. Any questions?”
Seven hands shot up.
Cal sighed and pointed to a girl Otter didn’t know. She wore a Divine Conduit’s pin. “You, Victoria, right?”
“What happens if we get lost? This is a really big campus. I’m from a small town and I’m afraid I won’t be able to find my way around.”
Cal laughed. “Everyone gets lost, Victoria. You just have to find your way back.”
He pointed to a pudgy kid named Alfred who asked about meals and where the commissary was and if they had snacks. Cal assured him they would see all the important locations on campus during their tour right after they got registered for their courses.
Otter put his hand down. He was going to ask about the library, but figured Cal would point it out later.
Once he had answered everyone’s questions, he clapped his hands together and said, “Right. Let’s get some breakfast.”
The mess hall was enormous—an open expanse filled with long wooden tables, the hum of conversation echoing off the vaulted ceilings. The smell of fresh bread and sizzling sausage lingered in the air, mingling with the tang of woodsmoke from the massive hearth at the far end of the room.
Students filled the space, talking, laughing, and jostling for seats. It was chaotic, noisy, and overwhelming.
Cal led Otter and the other first-years inside, his sharp eyes scanning the room.
“Here’s how it works,” Cal said. “Go through the line, get your grub, and sit wherever you want. Try to make some new friends. The second and third years might give you a bit of a ribbing, but they’re always on the lookout for quality teammates. Prove you’re worth their time, and you’ll do fine.”
With that, Cal disappeared into the throng of students.
Otter stood frozen for a moment. The sheer number of people was overwhelming.
He didn’t recognize a single face.
Maybe that’s a good thing, he thought. Nothing like a fresh start.
With a shrug, he joined the queue at the serving line. The food looked surprisingly good—heaping trays of scrambled eggs, sausages, roasted vegetables, and fresh toast slathered with butter. Otter piled his plate high, stomach rumbling at the sight of it.
If they eat like this every day, I could really like this place.
Balancing his tray carefully, Otter stepped out of the line and scanned the room. Most of the tables were packed shoulder to shoulder. There were a few empty ones near the back, but sitting alone felt like a sure way to mark himself as an outsider.
He stood there awkwardly, tray in hand, trying to decide where to go.
Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Hey, stranger.”
The voice was soft, familiar, and unmistakable.
Otter spun around, nearly dropping his tray in surprise.
“Erin! Boy, am I glad to see you. Where do you want to sit?”
Erin chuckled and nodded toward an empty table near the window.
They made their way through the bustling hall, weaving between groups of students until they reached their destination. Erin slid into a seat, and Otter followed, setting his tray down with a relieved sigh.
For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, eating quietly. The noise of the mess hall seemed to fade into the background.
Erin broke the silence first. “So how was your first night?”
Otter shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Pretty much kept to myself.”
She nodded, taking a bite of toast. “Same. This place is huge. It’s a little overwhelming.”
“No kidding.”
“I did meet a couple of people in my hall.” She looked up as two other students approached the table. One was a tall girl with short-cropped hair and an intense gaze, a Fighter badge pinned to her cloak. The other was a boy with a nervous expression and ink-stained fingers. Like Otter, he was badgeless.
Curious. I wonder why he’s not wearing one.
“And here they are now.” Erin smiled at the newcomers.
The girl sat down with a heavy thump, her plate piled high with food. “I’m Liora Valen,” she said, offering a firm handshake to both Otter and Erin. “Fighter class.”
“Otter Bennett,” he replied, shaking her hand.
Liora gave him a good eyeballing.
The boy sat more quietly, fiddling with his spoon.
“This here is Milo,” said Liora. “He’s a bit shy. He’s a fledgling Spell Lord.”
Liora glanced at Otter again, curiosity flashing in her eyes. “Are you the one I’ve been hearing about? The kid without a Class.”
Otter nodded and tensed, waiting for the usual sneer or mocking comment. But Liora just shrugged.
“That’s cool,” she said, digging into her meal.
Milo nodded, though he kept his gaze downcast. “My grandad told me about this kid who was invited to the Academy without a Class once. He ended up being a Spell Lord, too. Graduated with honors. Really made a name for himself.”
Otter had never heard anything about that. “Really?”
Milo just nodded, eyes never leaving his plate.
Erin smiled softly. “See Otter, I knew you belonged here.”
For the first time since arriving at the Academy, Otter felt a little more at ease. Maybe he didn’t know where he fit in yet, but for now, he had a place at this table—and that was a good start.
After half an hour of idle chit chat, Otter felt a whole lot better about his prospects.
Cal’s voice suddenly cut through the din of the mess hall. “All right everyone! It’s registration day. Make your way to the Hall of Assignments in the next fifteen minutes! Rooks! Find your RA, they’ll show you the way.”
Otter looked at Erin. “I guess that means I need to get going. See you at dinner?”
Erin nodded. “You bet.”
He turned to Liora and Milo. “It was really nice meeting you two. I hope we get some classes together.”
Liora’s mouth was full, so she gave him a thumb’s up. Milo said nothing, but met his eyes and gave him a half smile.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Otter disposed of his tray and wove through the mass of bodies until he reached Cal, who waited impatiently for all of his “rooks” to gather. Then he led them out of the mess hall.
***
The Hall of Assignments was a grand chamber lined with towering shelves of scrolls and ledgers. The air smelled faintly of parchment and ink, and the sound of scribes scratching away at their desks filled the room.
The recruits stood in a long line, waiting to register for their courses. Each student approached a scribe, who recorded their names, classes, and assigned schedules.
Otter shifted nervously as the line inched forward. The other recruits were chatting excitedly about what courses they might get.
“I’m hoping for a combat course,” Lyle said to Torrin. “Maybe I can put a hurtin’ on somebody.”
“I heard the Spell Lords have to learn five new spells by the end of the year,” Torrin replied.
Otter tuned them out, focusing on his breathing.
When his turn finally came, he stepped up to the desk, where a stern-looking scribe peered at him over his spectacles.
“Name?”
“Dwayne Bennett. Most people call me Otter.”
The scribe scribbled down his name, then glanced up. “Class?”
Otter hesitated. “None.”
The scribe blinked, his quill pausing midair. “I’m sorry—what?”
“I don’t have a class,” Otter said again, keeping his voice steady.
The scribe frowned, his eyes darting back and forth behind his spectacles. “I see... No class… I’m not sure what to do with that.”
“I have an invitation,” Otter said quickly, fearing he would be denied any courses. He pulled the letter from his satchel and laid it on the desk. “Signed by Silas Blackwood.”
The scribe’s frown deepened as he examined the letter. “Wait here.”
He stood and walked briskly toward the back of the hall, disappearing through a door marked Overseers Only.
The recruits behind Otter began whispering.
Otter clenched his fists, trying to ignore them.
The door swung open again, and the scribe returned. Following him was a tall man in a dark suit trimmed with the faintest hint of silver and a bushy, yet well-groomed beard covered his face. He carried a small walking cane.
As the man approached the desk, his sharp eyes immediately found Otter. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Ah. Mr. Bennett.”
The scribe stepped aside as the newcomer took the letter, holding it up to the light before placing it carefully back on the desk.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
The scribe stammered. “He—he doesn’t have a class, Overseer.”
The Overseer arched an eyebrow. “And?”
The scribe blinked, clearly unsure how to respond.
“Class or no class, Mr. Bennett is now a member of our student body. He has great potential. I wouldn’t have signed his invitation otherwise.” Overseer Blackwood folded the letter and handed it back to Otter. “He needs to be registered for first year courses.”
The scribe swallowed hard. “Sir, without a class, I don’t know what courses to place him in.”
Silas’s smile widened ever so slightly. “Ah, I see.” He turned to Otter, his gaze steady. “Mr. Bennett, generally, students are assigned an introductory curriculum based on their class. Without a prescribed curriculum, our fine associate here is at a loss as to how proceed. What would you suggest?”
Otter, caught off guard by the question, stared speechlessly up at the Overseer. His first thought was to apologize and tell the scribe just to pick a class and put him in those courses. But there was a strange look in the Overseer’s eyes that gave him pause.
This is a test, Otter thought. Instead of responding right away, he thought about his answer. Maybe he could tell the scribe to put him in the courses for Scout. That way, he be with Erin. But was that what he really wanted? His mother told him to make his own path. Maybe that’s what he should do.
Otter’s wrisplay vibrated. Glancing down he saw a flicker of text.
Luck’s Whisper: Active
It was there and gone in an instant, but it gave Otter the push he needed.
He met Silas’s gaze, unsure how what he was about to say would be received. But he said it anyway. “I would suggest allowing me to choose which introductory courses to take. No one knows my strengths, weaknesses, interests, and proclivities better than I do.”
Silas’s eyes twinkled and he nodded once. “That is precisely what I would suggest as well.” He turned back to the scribe. “Do you happen to have a course catalog Mr. Bennett could peruse?”
“Of course,” the spectacled man replied, pulling out a thick sheaf of papers and handing them over.
“Excellent. I will have Mr. Bennett accompany me and handle his course registration myself, then return him to you for work detail assignment. Do you find that satisfactory, Mr. Shelton?”
“Yes, yes,” the scribe said, handing over more paperwork. He was clearly anxious to be rid of this headache and move on to the next student in line.
With a tap of his cane Silas Blackwood led Otter away from the registration desks and through the door from which he’d appeared.
The corridor leading to the Overseer's office was much smaller than Otter expected. Narrow and whitewashed, the passage felt more like a servant’s hallway than a path to one of the most powerful figures in the Academy. The walls were bare except for a few simple pictures—landscapes of distant mountains, sketches of ancient ruins, and a faded map that Otter thought might be Aurelia, though the borders looked different than he remembered.
They passed several doors, all unmarked, and Otter couldn’t help but wonder what lay behind them. Offices or storerooms, he imagined.
Finally, Silas swept through one of the doors without a word. Otter followed right behind.
The room beyond was much more in line with what Otter had imagined for a Senior Overseer’s office—spacious, meticulously arranged, and exuding quiet authority. But it wasn’t grandiose or ostentatious. There were no elaborate tapestries or gilded statues. Instead, the room was marked by subtle elegance and precision.
The walls were lined with dark wooden shelves filled with leather-bound books and scroll cases, each labeled in neat handwriting. Some of the books looked ancient, their spines cracked and faded with age. Others gleamed as if freshly bound. Interspersed among the shelves were strange artifacts—a brass compass with an intricate dial, a silver dagger with runes etched into the blade, and a glass orb that shimmered faintly with a soft, inner light.
The furniture was clearly of the highest quality, but practical in design. A large walnut desk stood at the center of the room, its surface meticulously organized. Several documents were laid out in neat stacks, alongside a brass inkstand and a quill with an emerald-green feather. Behind the desk stood a tall leather-backed chair, worn at the edges but still imposing.
A pair of high-backed armchairs faced the desk, upholstered in deep green fabric that matched the rugs spread across the floor. The rugs themselves were works of art—handwoven with geometric patterns and symbols that Otter didn’t recognize, though they looked vaguely like old atlas markings.
On the wall behind the desk hung a large map of the known world, but it wasn’t like the ones Otter had seen before. This one was different—older, perhaps incomplete. Several places were marked with small red pins, and Otter couldn’t help but wonder what they signified.
The only other decoration was a sword mounted above the map, its hilt wrapped in black leather and its blade polished to a mirror finish. Unlike most ceremonial weapons, this sword looked well-used. There were faint nicks along the edge, and the grip showed signs of wear.
Silas moved around the desk with practiced ease, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on a hook by the door. He sat down without ceremony, gesturing for Otter to take one of the chairs opposite him.
Otter hesitated before settling into the seat. The cushion was firmer than he expected, and the chair’s high back made him sit straighter than usual.
Silas watched him for a moment, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The light from the windows behind him cast long shadows across the room, making it difficult to read his expression.
“So, Mr. Bennett... Otter. That’s your preferred name, yes?” Silas said, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.
Otter nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s what everyone calls me.”
“Interesting. Why is that? If you don’t mind me asking”
“Not at all, sir. I grew up on the docks of Brighthaven. My mother was a dockworker, and since there was no one to watch me when I was little, she took me with her. As soon as I was old enough to walk, I started playing in the water. She said the way I splashed and played reminded her of the river otters that she’d see in the canals from time to time. It kind of stuck.”
Silas laughed. “That’s a wonderful story! I’ll tell you a secret. My mother used to call me her ‘little thornbutt’ because I was such a pain in hers.” When his mirth settled he added. “I’m glad that didn’t stick with me into adulthood.”
He slid the sheaf of papers, the course catalog, across the desk. “Now, I want you to look through these and choose four courses that appeal to you. Take your time. I have some of my own paperwork to do. When you’re ready, let me know.”
Otter picked up the catalog, untied the leather cord and opened it, revealing page after page of course descriptions, each printed in crisp, dark ink. There were a lot to choose from.
He flipped through and quickly realized the catalogue contained every course the Academy offered. The introductory classes were all in the first several dozen pages. He read through them, dismissing some outright, but seriously considering others.
BASIC COMBAT TECHNIQUES
Instructor: Master Horvan
A foundational course in basic combat principles. Covers weapon handling, defensive stances, and unarmed techniques. Required for all recruits entering combat-based fields.
Otter had never been in a real fight in his entire life. He didn’t know the first thing about combat, but he figured every adventurer should learn how to defend themselves.
PRACTICAL APPLICATIONS OF MAGIC
Instructor: Magister Evelaine
A beginner’s course for those with an aptitude for magic. Covers basic spellcasting, mana management, and defensive wards.
He really wanted to do magic, but without the Spell Lord class, there was no way this course would do him any good at all.
NAVIGATION AND SURVIVAL
Instructor: Master Carlow
An overview of navigating a variety of environments, including urban, wilderness, and dungeons. Emphasis on stealth, adaptability, and survival tactics.
Otter’s eyes lingered on that last one. That sounded like something he’d be good at. He already knew how to find hidden paths, slip through alleys unnoticed, and navigate Brighthaven’s winding streets. Expanding those skills into other environments would come in handy.
Then his gaze drifted to another title:
UNDERSTANDING THE SYSTEM
Instructor: Overseer Silas Blackwood
An exploration of the System’s origins, mechanics, and anomalies. Students will be encouraged to think critically about the System’s role in their lives and to challenge conventional interpretations.
Otter blinked. Silas teaches a class? That caught him off guard. He glanced up at the Overseer, who remained focused on his paperwork, the faint scratch of his quill the only sound in the room.
Turning back to the catalog, Otter flipped through more pages, even past the introductory section. There were courses on everything. Some sounded practical. Others felt lofty and out of reach.
BEAST LORE AND TRACKING
Instructor: Tracker Varn
Learn to identify, track, and handle magical creatures and beasts. Includes practical fieldwork in the Academy’s hunting grounds.
ADVANCED MAPMAKING AND CARTOGRAPHY
Instructor: Master Farrow
A detailed study of mapmaking, including surveying techniques, the use of enchanted cartography tools, and the art of creating hidden maps.
Otter’s pulse quickened. Mapmaking.
His fingers traced the edge of the page. He’d been drawing maps for as long as he could remember—exploring Brighthaven’s hidden alleys, sketching routes through the canals, noting secret passageways and forgotten corners of the city.
He could feel it: this course was meant for him. The only problem was it was an intermediate level course. He wasn’t sure they’d let him take it.
As he continued flipping through the catalog, his mind spun with possibilities. Some courses were beyond him—focused on special abilities or skills he didn’t have access to. He frowned at those, feeling the weight of his classless status pressing down on him again.
He has to choose four courses. And only four.
“Allright, Overseer. I’m ready.”
Silas’s quill stopped and he looked up at Otter. “My, that’s didn’t take long. What have you chosen?”
“I’d like to register for Basic Combat, Navigation and Survival, Understanding the System, and Advanced Mapmaking.”
Silas arched an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting combination. Unfortunately, I cannot put you in the Advanced Cartography Course this semester. The Navigation course is a prerequisite. Master Farrow refuses to spend time on the fundamentals and insists anyone taking his course has mastered them beforehand. Is there an alternative that interests you?”
Otter has anticipated this, and while he was slightly disappointed, he was prepared. “Two, actually. Perhaps you could help me choose between them.”
“Of course.”
“Either Adventuring Fundamentals or History and Theory of Kaos. Which would you pick?”
Silas leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he thought. “Both are excellent courses. Naturally. Adventuring Fundamentals is the more practical of the two. History and Theory of the Enemy may be more esoteric with a bent toward philosophy, but sheds light on why and how we become adventurers in the first place and the stakes involved, thus helping to shape your overall path and choices. I might suggest that whichever you don't choose now, you pick up next semester.”
Otter nodded. “In that case, I think I’ll go with Adventuring Fundamentals.”
“Brilliant.” Silas scratched out his course choices on the papers the scribe had given him and signed them with a flourish. “All done. Now, if you’ll head back to the Hall of Assignment and return to the end of the line, they will assist in determining your work detail and give you your official schedule.” He stood and ushered Otter out into the hallway.