Come morning, there was a general clamour in the Rookery that hadn’t been there the night before. Probably because everyone was sleep-deprived after being called on by the Crown, Alix thought. They were still quite sleep-deprived, but with less of the fear that immensely fearsome mages were watching you. Alix lamented absence of any kind of lock on the wooden separator before sticking his head out into the mutual space.
“Just stay out of my way then!” came the tail-end of an insult hurled up the central stairwell. Alix heard noises of guffawing and pattering footsteps further down the tower. These vertical bedrooms are such a weird layout. The sound sort of reverberated up and down the stony interior, sparing no one. Alix didn’t want any part in the argument.
I don’t think I’ll be seeing much of them, anyway, he mused, getting prepared in Jericho’s custom clothes. When Alix had asked earlier, Karsus had told him that all ‘real’ mage schools followed a special sort of regimen to avoid the attention that would come from hosting a large gathering of practicing mages. Each student would have a specific timetable of classes, taught by professors scattered across City- and Crownside Lacurna. The different buildings that were considered Halicynth classrooms would be much like the Rookery— establishments masquerading as mundane despite containing magical facilities.
Alix finished his outfit with a drab outer cloak—he would be walking in broad daylight, after all. It would be bad taste to appear so indiscrete. And I would feel foolish, he added mentally. He figured the extra layer couldn’t hurt; it never got near warm enough in Lacurna for him to overheat. He deliberated over what to do with his possessions. But ultimately decided that he couldn’t lug around heavy packs all day. Shoving them firmly under the bed was better than nothing. He took his leave from the room, only to find a sheet of paper tacked to the sliding divider. As predicted, it was a schedule
His eyes glazed over before reading it. He was still Mother-damned hungry. Maybe there’s food downstairs. Tucking the paper into a pocket, he began to the wide area on the bottom floor which served as a sort of common room. The sound of argument grew louder as he approached. Alix had a good vantage from the stairwell to see the situation unfold.
A girl stood first and foremost in the scene, pointing a finger toward a number of others toward one side. She was taller than all of them, ash-grey garb hanging in strips that looked carefully torn for stylistic reasons. Alix winced to see the confrontation. He thought it had died down.
“No it’s not right,” the girl was saying, uncaring about who heard, “I don’t give two shits about tradition. It’s petty, banal and unnecessary. Your precious Crown and their Praetorians should have the foresight to actually inform the students before carting them away.”
“Well, we were all clued in,” one of the opposing boys said. It was a seemingly ill-advised move, considering the looks he received from his peers. The boldly-spoken girl wasn’t impressed. Before she could respond, a faint imprint could be briefly seen on the tower door: the sign that someone was entering the magical key.
There was a brief standstill as the door slowly opened, but then poured in a few older-looking men and women. They dressed uniquely, to be sure, but Alix could feel the faint tinge of something on each of them. Something unmistakably magic. These are older students, then, Alix realised, I should’ve figured that the number of bickering first-years in this room didn’t add up to fifteen.
“Shouldn’t you guys be gone by now,” one of the newcommers—er, older residents—said, rubbing an eye and suddenly seeming a lot more human. “We never normally see anyone here after nightshift.” Then he actually looked up to take in the situation. “Oh, right. New students.”
The intrusion seemed to shut up the argument that had been going on previously.
“Let’s just leave it, then,” said a quiet boy who had looked like he was trying not to pick a side, “I’m sure we all have places to be.” It seemed to break a spell. Everyone began moving and talking and doing whatever it was that had been put on hold by the shouting match. Alix had to step aside to let the senior students get past him, up the stairs to their beds.
I wonder what the nightshift is. Alix’s gaze trailed them until they disappeared up the winding tower. Anything that needs students to be out so late studying magic is bound to be interesting. But watching their receding backs, it would be bad form to just go and ask the older students. There were classes soon. Alix took out the timetable he’d stuffed in his pocket, staring at it blankly before cursing.
“Mother-damned cryptic bastards,” he hissed through split teeth. It wasn’t quite bad as the cipher, but it was close. It was just a selection of times and locations, only half of which he knew. There were repeats, which were likely the same classes, but that didn’t give Alix any idea what each one was. Why am I always one step behind? But he was broken out of his frustrated grumblings by someone behind him.
“Ha! That’s something I didn’t expect to hear from a Crownsider. I said as much before, but some halfwit downstairs couldn’t bear to hear me slander their ‘beloved Crown’.”
Alix turned, startled. He recognised the girl’s voice from the argument before, now he put it to a face. She brushed pale, dirt-coloured hair away from an oval face. As Alix turned, she saw the clothes beneath his unpinned cloak.
“I’m not a Crownsider,” he said, not knowing how else to respond. “I don’t know these locations.”
“Right…” she said slowly, looking him up and down again. Alix self-consciously drew the cloak further around him. “Oh, sorry! I’m Yuhan. You seem alright, especially if you’re from the city like you say. What were the classes you can’t find?”
She was almost babbling. I suppose she’s just… cheerful? Friendly? It seems like an improvement from the way she regards some of the other students here. He wordlessly showed her the curriculum sheet. Yuhan’s eyes scanned over the paper in a heartbeat.
“We share a first period,” she mumbled absent-mindedly, still reading over the list. “At least, I think we do. Unless both the classes just happen to be at the same place.”
Probably the same class then. Should I follow this girl? Alix wondered, She already doesn’t seem to be very well-liked by the rest of the Rookery. But on the other hand, she’s the only one offering to lead the way. And if the others get on my case, well, I’m nothing if not diplomatic.
“Where are we headed then?” Alix concluded, then added, “And do you know what class it is?”
“No-can-do.” Yuhan shook her head, short hair bobbing, “We’ll find out when we get there I guess.” That was to be expected.
As they made their way to the Rookery exit though, Alix realised what was bothering him. The other students aren’t moving. They were dressed and prepared for the day, which had thrown him off. But instead of starting to get going to classes, they were just lingering in the common room, flitting between benches. Not amicably, but slightly on edge. They expect something.
Alix grabbed Yuhan’s shoulder, trying to signal to her quietly, but she brushed him off. “Hey, see the others?” She turned to him when he spoke. “Wait here a moment. They know things we don’t, remember?” Yuhan looked around wildly, as if it had only just occurred to her that it mattered what others were doing. People’s actions always matter, especially when you can learn from them.
“Yeah,” she said, still frowning slightly, “But what do you think is going to—”
Alix twitched slightly as a strange feeling permeated the lower floor of the Rookery, pouring in from some unknown source. He could feel it in his aching head, so he reacted to it just a moment before everyone else did, right when it began to speak.
“Students, cadets, initiates of the Praetorian Cabal.” The voice was smooth, almost monotone. Alix shivered at the way it intoned the full name of the Crown’s servitors.
“The Halicynth Program is pleased to report full attendance. And that your identities have been marked and verified. Welcome. On behalf of the Crown, as well as for your own sake, I hope you all understand the prestige and responsibility that comes with the position you now have.”
The voice raced on. Even if he’d had the time to speak, Alix didn’t know if his words could have got through.
“As servants to the Crown and practitioners of higher magics, you are outside the regulations applied to mages in Lacurna. The restrictions applied to you are worse. You shall not reveal to others the nature of ascended magics. You shall not disobey or otherwise betray agents of the Praetorian Cabal. You shall not be caught practising elevated magics.”
His breath rasped, cold against his cheeks. Alix had been expecting the talk like this. But there were rules. A clear system. And Alix wasn’t being forced into anything. The disembodied voice continued.
“Though ultimately, none of this is punishable by Lacurnan law. It is punishable by much worse. As a result of recording your identities, the Crown can find you at any time using class-three divinations. Do not deviate from stated rules and it will not be used. The Praetorians wait for no one. Please find the slated list of tutors that have been assigned to each of you. Study hard and return to your postings by two hours past sundown. Dismissed.”
I cannot believe that the literal criminal syndicate was more courteous in coercing me than the Praetorians were, Alix fumed, it wasn’t like I needed more reasons to keep quiet. He felt like he’d been thoroughly convinced by this point.
I get it. The Crown reigns by monopolising true mages and utilising intense propaganda to control the population. It was a bitter thought. But not a new one. Someone jostled Alix’s shoulder as the room burst back into motion, like everyone had been collectively holding their breaths during the announcement.
“Did you recognise the voice?” he asked Yuhan quietly, still beside her.
“Nope,” she grumbled, “Though I might not recognise my own father’s voice through whatever magical obfuscation they had going on.”
“Point.” He briefly paused. “Well, since the disembodied voice is threatening us and telling us to go to class…” Alix trailed off.
Yuhan looked like she wanted to pick a fight with the Crownsiders—dutifully following the commands like a message from the Mother herself—but instead just scrunched her hands into fists. “Yeah, sure. I know the way to our first class. Follow me.”
It was quite anticlimactic to step out of the Rookery, navigate through some thin alleys and blend into the Kell waterside thoroughfare like they had been there all along. Nobody gave the two young individuals a second glance. And Alix didn’t even need to perform one of the strange spells to let him blend in.
Of course, he hadn’t expected that he would need it. It all just feels slightly… off, somehow. As if I’m not quite in the same city as all the rest of these people. There was nothing substantial he could claim it to be—he was still only very slightly better than the average layperson at magic. Nothing but the knowledge. Knowledge that represents power.
“Who are you then, since you’re not a Crownsider?” Yuhan asked casually as she led him along a major Cityside concourse, “Just your name, I mean,” she added hurriedly, sidestepping a pedestrian.
“Alix,” he said belatedly, “Sorry, I didn’t realise—”
“It’s fine,” she shrugged, “What did you study?”
“Study where?”
“The University! Obviously.” Her tone was exasperated. “Where else?”
Alix winced internally. How long has it been since I’ve just had a friendly chat with someone? Come on Alix, stop being so inept. But being truthful would be an instant misstep, and out him as not being properly qualified.
“Oh, well, I just didn’t go to the University is all. I just studied science—energetics, in particular. The University isn’t everything, you know.” He left the sentence hanging, hoping Yuhan would pick up on what Alix had implied. Alix’s personal research had been what let him excel in Camherst.
And I have no connection to the White Hand, he thought to himself. Yuhan led him into a more residential area. Some of the streets weren’t suitable for carriages, dotted with trees growing up in front of houses.
“Not the University…” Yuhan’s face locked into an expression of consternation before going wide-eyed “Wait, oh Mother, does that mean you—”
“Was that it?” Alix interrupted, ignoring Yuhan after seeing something in the corner of his eye, “It was. Just there; number six. We almost passed it.” He was glad to have been keeping an eye on the numbers when one stuck out to him.
Yuhan seemed to have lost her train of thought. She shook her head “Not enough sleep, ha ha.” She grinned wearily. “So, should we just enter? This is definitely the building. I recognise it.”
After a serruptitious look for any signs saying, ‘For students of a secret magic school: Ring this special bell here!’, Alix elected to simply knock on the door. It had been painted a shell-blue once. But the paint was cracking even before Alix gave three heavy knocks. Small flakes drifted to the ground, lit by sunlight between the trees.
The door opened after only a second. No one was there. Alix glanced back. But Yuhan only gave a nonchalant shrug. She evidently had more experience with automated doors than Alix did. They stepped into the foyer of a modest but large home. Alix didn’t shed his cloak. Instead they simply both walked through a wide frame—once blocked with a sliding door, but now moved aside—and into a lecture hall in miniature.
Camherst Academy wasn’t like the University in many ways—it was for teenagers, for one—but it was the main feeder school for the institution. And had thus tried to emulate it in many aspects. Camherst mostly used conventional classrooms but they also had at least two slanted auditoriums for guest speakers and the like. That was what Alix was immediately reminded of when he walked into the first lesson of the Halicynth Program.
A dozen pairs of eyes turned his way. Alix wrapped his cloak tighter.
“More? Two more?” A professor stood at the front of the room, squinting up at Alix and Yuhan through the aisle that went between the desks on either side. “Good good. That’s everyone. You were two minutes late, mind, but no matter. Find a seat somewhere. There are pens and ink, in case you forgot.”
Alix felt a startling pang of anxiety as Yuhan seperated from him to take the only other seat of the room. He was forced to sit at the outer end of the front row, next to some blond boy. Control yourself, Alix, he reprimanded, perplexed by his own behavior. I don’t even know the girl. Learning is more important. He took out a neat notebook and dipped his pen.
“Good morning students, I am Uwe,” the professor began briskly, “My class is simply called Unknowing. And it is not content-heavy.” He stood before a large blackboard—way to tall to effectively use—with a personal desk to one side. He flicked his hand toward it and three candles burst to flame, only to instantly dim as a piece of chalk rose into the air behind him.
Of course, Alix thought dryly, Levitating a piece of chalk. It not something I’d ever expect to see in a classroom in Camherst, though I suppose I’ll need to get used to occurences like that. Being back in a school environment had thrown him off, reminded him of back when Ibil’s usual trick was to make his own Beacon glow.
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“Why Halicynth’s classes have such obtuse names is a mystery to me,” Professor Uwe continued, “But Unknowing is an introductory course for those graduated from the University, rather than Court Houses. It’s an introductory course required for all other practical spellcasting courses. And it’s designed to last only six weeks, rather than the typical six of semesterly classes.”
So do people who grew up on Crownside just get a massive head start? That was probably how it always was, Alix realised grimly. No matter the subject, it was always true that some people were just born with a silver spoon.
“I see your frustration,” the professor held his hands in a placating gesture, “But be not worried. All classes in the first semester are either mostly demonstrations, or entirely theoretical framework. It simply means that passing my class is of utmost importance, yes? Good. Then let’s begin.”
With another dramatic hand gesture, the chalk stick skidded around the blackboard—a circle about as neat as if it had been drawn by hand.
“This is just a brief visual representation,” he said dismissively, “No need to copy down. Now someone, please tell me. What is magic?” he held up a hand to silence groans. “Don’t take it like the question you’ve been asked a hundred times before. Keep in mind that now, you might actually be wrong.”
The movement of energy? Alix tried mentally. But that was obviously wrong. A flying arrow hitting armour was movement of energy. It’s something more nuanced, he realised, listening to others share similar—incorrect—answers. The typical response was ‘the mind controlling energy’. But Uwe was shooting down answers before people even finished the words ‘mind’ or ‘brain’.
Alix put up a hand, “Redirection of energy that disobeys natural diffusion.”
“Oh!” The professor put up a hand, signaling for the class to silence. “There it is. I expected a similar answer soon enough. That magic is unnatural.” He tutted his mouth. Alix felt chastised. “You dressed the term up, to be sure, but it’s the same regardless. This is the least correct answer out of them all.”
Why did I open my mouth. Alix barely noticed what was being written in the circle on the blackboard. I should never think I have the answers. Uwe was still continuing with his point, about how magic couldn’t do anything that wasn’t technically possible without it.
“Do you understand now, er—” The professor had turned back, then paused. “What’s your name?
“Alix,” he choked out.
“Louder?”
“Alix Lanyura.” The words were perfectly enunciated the second time, voice slipping into monotone. “I understand completely, sir,” he lied. I don’t understand—not yet—but I will. I have to.
Alix paid dogged attention as the lesson continued for a while, much in the same vein. Magic was a natural power that living creatures with a Nexus could control. It could shape energy around it—all based on the Nexus’ strength, deep within the base of the brain. It twisted the world in strange ways based on small impetus from the caster.
“The thing is though—something maybe hard to get your brain around—is that magic is purely a result of sapient will acting from within the Nexus. Stop thinking of magic as a result with a cost. It’s not like that.” He waved a hand as if banishing the notion. “Magic is so much more dynamic than believed by the people. And it only requires this one single measure of mind-force, which we call mana. The fact that mana only originates from sentient creatures—artificery excepted, ignore that for now—has given rise to the largest theology throughout the entire world.”
“The theory goes,” he continued, “That there was once nothing. But then, the darkness was split from the light by a being named the Mother of all creation. Either this effort completely expended her, or she constantly keeps grand flows of energy at bay with her magic to maintain the universe.”
I know this, thought Alix, I’m not sure if there is a single person in all Lacurna who doesn’t. Though it’s normally abridged. The common preaching was just that the Mother had simply built the world with her will. Not that there might be substantial credit to the religion. Alix thought back to all the times he’d dismissed the fanatic followers of the Mother. She wasn’t like the oppressive Gods of other religions—she didn’t watch you, couldn’t hear your every prayer—but maybe a real, kind deity was better than one expected to deliver you from every strife.
Professor Uwe gave the class a final address, “For next lesson, I want from each of you an answer to my original question. A working definition of magic. They don’t have to be perfect, far from it. They don’t even have to all be similar. But I’ll be reviewing each of them. Because having a good, internalised understanding is the first step. You can leave now.” He waved a hand of dismissal. The frantic chalk dropped softly down.
That was an arduous two hours. Alix had written a total of seven words on the paper, punctuated with an excess of random question marks and terms like ‘dynamic!’ underlined in thick smears. The sheet definitely didn’t constitute as proper notes—barely worth keeping—but he tucked it into his little satchel anyway.
The real treasure had been sucked straight into his brain, absorbed from the lecture. Yuhan sidled up to him as he left the classroom.
“My head hurts,” she groaned, “Did you understand that any more than I did?”
Why does this girl keep approaching me? I don’t understand. It’s not like I can help her with the class. “No,” Alix responded through gritted teeth, “I can’t help with your head either.”
“No, that’s not—ugh. Whatever. Where are you headed to next?” The class was slowly flitting out of Uwe’s front door and into the streets. The two waited for a moment in the hall to not rush.
“Somewhere in Crownside. Far up, too. I recognise the name vaguely. I think it might be near the University.” Alix was pretty sure he could make it there on his own, which was fortunate, because Yuhan’s next class had a totally different location. Reading the address again, Alix felt a cold shiver trail down his spine.
“Well, I need to get going,” Yuhan said, oblivious to Alix, “Next class is by the outer wall. See you later?” She phrased it like an open-ended question.
“Mmm, sure,” Alix mumbled noncommittally, trying to figure out why in the Mother’s name his next class was in the manor of an Court House. Yuhan was already out the door.
Mother damn it. It’s not like I’m against the prospect of studying in the home of a noble, and I really should expect that the upper strata of Lacurna is going to be a large part of the Halicynth Program. It still just rubbed him the wrong way. The cheerful sun did nothing to calm his nerves as he made his way to the Lacurnan bridge.
Lacurna wasn’t a monarchy; it hadn’t been since the Regent’s War almost three hundred years ago. But of course, the city’s infrastructure, culture and nomenclature still hadn’t caught up. ‘The Crown’ was simply how Lacurnans referred to the combined political head of the city, which was made up of the Court Houses. These sixteen oligarchs maintained order and control over the city, residing in Crownside along with the figurehead Crown who acted as their puppet public figure. Common practice was to speak of the Crown as if they were an individual—as if the man himself held power like a king of old. Though nobody sans fools truly believed it.
I wondered whether the Praetorians would finally give up on pretending the Crown had any power, Alix thought, finally catching a glimpse of the Kell. It seemed important when that knowledge determined who you directly served. But no, it makes more sense this way. Making distinctions between the Houses is too tumultuous a task. And the distinctions don’t matter when you simply serve each of them, as well as the Court itself. To that extent, simply terming it ‘agents of the Crown’ made perfect sense.
Alix finally reached the Kell. Trying not to look too shady with his oversized cloak in broad daylight, he hesitantly walked up onto the bridge. A Redjacket by the Cityside checkpoint sized him up, glancing at his composure for only an instant before seeming to conclude that something was amiss. He locked eyes with Alix, began turning his body… and immediately aborted the movement. It was as if he’d never been seen in the first place.
Alix’s headache twinged, ever so slightly. He increased his pace. From the bridge, the sky was properly visible: a deep cerulean that stretched above the river’s valley without a cloud in sight. Alix ignored the view. Soon he was in Crownside.
Following some buried memory, Alix followed switchbacked up the steep valley face. There were much fewer pedestrians here, mostly lacquered carriages coasting over built-up balcony roads. In such a steep environment, expansive houses needed to be arranged more vertically. The largest manors radiated out left and right of the Palace, similarly stuck against the valley cliffside. Their tall bodies were further added to by the expansive surrounding hillside, built up in artfully crafted terraces. Orchards and vineyards filled most of the available space, the rest of which was made flat enough for whatever activities the rich wanted so much land for. Excluding the Crown fortress, there were eight.
Alix waited with trepidation after knocking on the servant door for the Nerim Manor’s gatehouse. A large gate stood open next to him. It led carriages on a winding trail of more hairpin bends to turn the steep slope into a longer, more gentle one. Alix would need to be escorted past this point.
He barely avoided jumping when the door’s shutter slid open. A pair of eyes regarded him for a moment before the door opened in full.
“Praetorian cadet,” the servant said with a hushed voice and knowing look, “Please follow me. There is a faster way to the facilities.”
Alix was led inside the gatehouse itself. But then he was taken along a corridor that seemed too long. The gatehouse backed against the rock face. That’s the whole reason the road was so curved. This must be inside the cliff itself. His theory seemed to be supported by a lack of windows, though the light from crystal sconces was more than enough to see by.
More than enough to see the strange, magical chamber that the servant him to. It looked like the hallway simply terminated. But as he got closer Alix noticed that he was actually stepping into what seemed like just a metal box. There weren’t any visible Runes inscribed internally, but the servant gestured for him to step inside.
“Please sir, step inside. It will send you above.”
Alix complied, mind racing. There’s no way the Praetorians have also discovered teleportation and kept it hidden this entire time. That’s one of the few things that’s supposed to be well and truly impossible. He waited avidly until he felt the chamber activate. It sent a stab through his head and he prepared to disappear.
The steel box slowly lifted upwards. Alix had to bite back a laugh. Ha! It’s only an elevator. He shook his head. I suppose the simplest solution really is the most likely. A light crystal above his head kept the chamber from going dark when the corridor was obscured by rock. Alix reached out to touch the rough surface passing by. But quickly thought better of it. The lift wasn’t moving quickly, but it wasn’t slow either. The end arrived sooner than he’d expected.
That was still some incredible artificery, Alix thought, stepping out of the chamber into a pristine room, though it stands to reason that the Court Houses should have the resources to spend. The sentiment rang true in the classroom as well.
Alix had entered an immaculate laboratory, completely covered on the inside by neat white tiles. Rows of benches lined the room in front of a wide demonstrations desk, cluttered empty glass beakers and scrawled notes. Alix ignored the two students who were already present, chatting quietly. Instead he just took a spot at a tall stool behind a bench and waited for the class to begin. It was two to a desk. But despite six more students arriving, nobody chose the seat next to Alix. A fact he was glad for.
At least, nobody did until the teacher arrived. Because with the small man strutted a boy about the same age as the students. His clothes were deliberately casual, but corroborated with his demeanor to paint a pretty good picture of why he’d come from the Nerim Manor itself. Alix watched with vague annoyance as the young noble surveyed the room for free seats, before walking up and taking the one next to Alix. They ignored each other.
“Now now class, don’t worry,” said the reedy man, attempting to clear up his front desk while speaking, “My name is Yorich. No surname. This isn’t a magic class. The Halicynth name for it is Matter, but I hate such unspecific nomenclature. For all intents and purposes, this class is just chemistry.” He paused, pushing up his glasses. “Well go on then, take out materials for notes. Oh, forget the Praetorians for awhile. This will be a direct continuation of your University educations.”
Thank the Mother. Alix breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he was getting what he really wanted—he’d skipped a step, to be sure. But he didn’t want any part in a University that deliberately spread untruths. The class promptly started with a quiz to determine if they were all up to speed. Alix felt a brief moment of concern—he hadn’t actually come from the University—but it turned out to be unfounded. The quiz was nothing he hadn’t studied himself. After collecting and reading the answers, Yorich jumped into a review course of material. Alix only had to ask a few questions to clarify some definitions.
The boy sitting at the desk with him tried to make underhanded scoffs whenever Alix did this. But he paid it no mind. After studying for so long in Crownside, he was used to the antics of the snobbish locals. Though he wasn’t sure if the boy wanted Alix to know of his distaste. The scorn seemed too indirect for that.
I’ll be the one laughing when his pride prevents him from getting clarification, Alix reasoned. It would only be justice for trying to disregard the main benefit of actually having in-person classes. Alix’s head perked up when he heard Yorich begin to speak about new content.
“The typical Univeristy education names forty-five distinct chemical elements. But there are three more that have been recently discovered and are not yet taught. They are silicon, an intermetal with quite unique properties; aluminium, a lightweight, easily-corroded metal; and lithium, which is an incredibly energetic material similar to natrium. These materials are quite difficult to produce in industry, but we will discuss them here. Please copy down this information about them…”
Alix excitedly memorised all the information as the professor scribed. Physical properties, common compounds, natural sources. Alix was beginning to see why the new elements hadn’t been immediately introduced into education. There were plenty of other, even less useful elements which had no real significance in everyday life. And theres also the issue of—
“You’ve written that incorrectly,” said the student sharing the bench with Alix, head angled to read his notes, “Silicon’s reactivity is twenty-three, not… four.”
Alix’s eye twitched. He suppressed the urge to give a loud sigh, Who gave this guy the right? After taking a breath he calmly asked, “Pardon?”
“I said you’ve done it all wrong,” he said bluntly, “Half of this information is incorrect.” He waved a pen vaguely at Alix’s paper. A single gobbet of ink flipped through the air and landed on one corner. Alix exhaled heavily through his nostrils.
“Who are you?” he asked instead, trying to be somewhat diplomatic. As little patience as he had for people providing completely ignorant ‘advice’, Alix had little desire to get on the bad side of another Praetorian student. Especially a student from one of the Court Houses, he thought, One that can probably already cast Beaconless spells, too.
“Fletcher, of House Rawsthorne,” came the prim response, nose turned up enough to have him staring just shy of the ceiling.
“I’ve never heard of you.”
“I wouldn’t want my name to come from the mouth of an unschooled novice like you anyway.”
Alix bristled. “I am not unschooled.” It was the one thing that had actually reached him. I didn’t suffer so many long hours of study to be dismissed like this.
“It seems like it.” Fletcher shrugged. “Since you can’t even get the Tenter scale.
“Does this look like the Tenter scale?” Alix asked, irritated, gesturing to the page about the three elements. The standard notation for chemical reactivity followed a ranking from zero to forty-five. Well, forty-eight now. Alix’s version was different, anyway.
“Only the Mother knows whatever any of that means,” Fletcher said, voice filled with vitriol, “Just because you think you understand it doesn’t mean that it’s correct.”
“What is your problem?” Alix hissed, trying to avoid the attention of Yorich still speaking up front, “It has nothing to do with you.”
“Chemistry is about systems. If you cannot follow them then you are not fit for this class.” He said it as if it was his personal duty to identify these deviants.
“I do follow systems—my own. And if you would get off your high—”
“Life is about systems,” Fletcher cut Alix off, “And one cannot simply ‘create their own’.”
“Is there an issue back there?” Yorich asked, finally having noticed them. He’d paused the lecture to peer through his glasses at Alix.
“No sir. No issue,” Alix promised, scribbling down a few more pieces of information from the board.
“Well good. This isn’t the time nor place for socialising and fooling around. And you especially, Fletcher.” The student in question—Fletcher, sitting beside him—scowled.
Then the professor went back to speaking on the voltaic properties of lithium. Alix fumed inside, barely holding himself back from snapping at the boy across from him. I refuse to let a bitchy, Crownside-born snob ruin this for me. Alix elected that the best option was to just ignore him at all costs. It worked well for the rest of the lesson—not that he ever tried to talk in the first place. The class interested him. Alix wasn’t quite learning anything new yet. But he gave a small smile just considering what might be to come.
“There’s no homework, so long as you have all internalised the content today. If not, then I expect it by next lesson. Because we’re beginning on chemistry’s interaction with Runes. There will be some partnered practical work—just whoever you’re next to now is fine. Class dismissed.”
Alix’s hopes once again plummeted. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was doomed, but it felt pretty close. Not necessarily because the young man—who had already picked him and his things up and left the classroom into Nerim Manor—was incompetent at the coursework. Far from it, in fact. But because anyone who went out of their way to correct others would be a nightmare to do partner work with.
Alix flicked out his timetable again. My next class at House Nerim is… only a few days. He wasn’t sure if there was a solution to be found in that time. Maybe I could find Jericho and ask them for some help. I could just be so good at the task myself that it doesn’t matter what that weird Crownsider thinks. It was an unhelpful thought, even if he could possibly get in contact with the White Hand now.
Sighing, Alix left the classroom the way he came.