There were no classes scheduled for the rest of the day. As a result, Alix walked slowly through Crownside Lacurna. Today was hectic, he contemplated, getting closer to the waterfront bustle that was common on the banks of the Kell. But it was nothing I’m not used to. Being able to keep sharp through stressful classes has always served me well.
He again went accosted across the bridge, which sent him into a series of spiralling thoughts as the sun became dimmer for evening. On the bridge earlier was the third time I’ve noticed something strange happening to my head and then noticing things happen in the world immediately after. Maybe even more, if I thought about it really hard… He tried going back to before the Praetorians had taken him from his home. But there was no use. His memory was good, he just couldn’t link the feelings to any definite impact around him. I’m only more certain now because I know about Halicynth.
The feelings had something to do with magic, that became increasingly clear the more he thought about it. What else could the head-tingles foretell? The first time was when he’d concentrated on the Praetorian escorts’ magic obfuscation: they’d noticed my… whatever it was. And they reacted as if it was serious—something to be wary of, at least.
The next time had been just right before the far-away voice had spoken to the intake at the Rookery. A sort of claustrophobic feeling which had pervaded ever so slightly during the announcement. But that didn’t have anything to do with me concentrating, nor was it noticed by anyone. The third and most recent time was on his crossing to Crownside. That one was so faint, I’d only noticed it because I was focusing on the Redjacket. Though unlike with the Praetorians the Civil Guard instead stopped being aware of me.
Alix didn’t quite know what to make of it. Seemingly contradictory events being correlated through his periodic headaches. Alix had to admit—it wasn’t something he understood. I could’ve asked someone, he admitted, I could’ve told Professor Uwe just earlier. But he hadn’t. Partially because of the reactions of the original Praetorians—like it was something that couldn’t possibly be originating from him—but also because of the White Hand. I just don’t know enough about magic. What if it’s something to do with them? Alerting any Crown-allegiant mages about an affliction possibly related to rogue spellcasters could be disastrous.
Do I just go to the White Hand itself then? But the problem with that was the Halicyth proctors breathing down his neck. Of course, I’m not supposed to know that. But Karsus had hinted at as much. Alix needed to hunker down some more, get ahead in his studies. Only then was he maybe safe to begin paying back his debt to the White Hand in the Burns.
Alix bought a pastry while idly wondering about the possibility of forgetting the illicit gang altogether. The thought only lasted a few moments, before the rational majority of his brain destroyed the thought. That’s a foolish dream, he chastised, Reyla especially has her hooks in me. The thought wasn’t comforting. But he wasn’t deluding himself. There was a sort of grim determination in the definite knowledge that it might be a long time, but Karsus would one day call upon him to fulfil the promise.
Gripped between two fanged wolves, Alix’s life was anything but certain. Though the largest factor was his own aptitude. It would determine whether he sank or swam in the storm of Lacurna that mirrored its river: turbulent on the best of days.
Alix decided to take the crooked path back to the Rookery and hide in his cubby. Maybe he could do some homework. Who knew—maybe its cramped confines would be unusually suited to study. Why did they have to fire-bomb my apartment? He grumbled. It sort of surprised him how uncaring he was about that specific matter. He felt bad for Ellis, that was for sure. The landlord too, though that was more ambiguous. I suppose nothing but the contents was actually damaged. And Mother knows I’m not still paying rent. Though the Rookery was a sub-par replacement.
Swiping the shape on the door felt strangely un-magical. Though it probably isn’t, he realised with a start, If it was just divination magic, there wouldn’t be a key. It was just a magical mechanism that detected the finger-movements of a person. Probably cheaper. Alix shrugged.
He ignored everyone else on the way in, making a beeline for the stairway. Every step up the stone stairs felt heavier than the last. But eventually Alix made it to his room near the top. Slamming the shutter and flinging a bag onto his bed, he cracked his knuckles and settled down at the cramped desk. He started with science first, settling into a rhythm before cycling onto the more abstract piece for Unknowing.
What is magic? He asked himself, trying to puzzle out a definition. It doesn’t need to be perfect, it just can’t be completely wrong. And it had to be his definition, so as to better help him when learning more complex magic in the future. It frustrated him a bit to learn that he wouldn’t be taking any other magic classes until passing the basics first. But it made sense. There is no point trying to waste time getting students to learn proper magic before they’ve unlearned the propaganda.
He sat there awhile, every so often almost putting pen to paper but then thinking better of it. Eventually the dying light bouncing off Crownside and through the window became too dark to read or write by. Alix didn’t have a light crystal on hand—something always too expensive to quite justify spending the money on—so he lit a simple candle. It gave him an idea. I might not be great at magic, but I could certainly convert the heat from a candle into a more direct light source for homework. The only problem is that he would need a Beacon.
Another thing I’ve almost forgotten is that Karsus gave me those encrypted books of magic, he remembered while standing up and stretching. What were the chances that one of the senior students—or even one of his first-year peers—would be able to decrypt it? Quite high, to be honest. Especially if books on ascended magics are commonly written in that strange cipher. The real question was whether he wanted to actually request help from a more advanced student. Both because they might take issue to illicit books and the fact that Alix was hesitant to so blatantly rely on someone to translate the material.
How much do I need the books? he reasoned. Of course, the fact that they aren’t supplied to everyone should be evidence that they aren’t actually necessary. But on the other hand, any additional knowledge provided by Karsus is bound to be useful—especially so, considering he gave them to me personally. He would check it out properly once he’d had the time to properly settle in and sneak back to the Burns.
Knowing that he might not have the chance to think more on it later, Alix turned back to his paper. He dug into his mind, trying to find his most core belief of magic, augmented by his new knowledge and opportunities. When he’d finished the line, it was entirely unlike what he’d expected—even from himself. Uwe might think it’s wrong. But I don’t care. I believe I can properly defend my answer, which is all that matters in the end. Alix stepped out of the room.
As the door quivered shut, there was only one line decorating the page: “Magic is the fourth fundamental force.” Alix was already halfway down the stairs.
There was evidence of louder discussion in the common room as Alix descended. Not the argumentative tone of the morning but the sounds of people sharing a meal. The seniors had already left for the evening, leaving the ground floor Rookery full of first-years discussing their teachers, subjects and the like.
“I swear,” a twenty-something woman was saying, “Master Peila dragged us all the way up to the Stonewright fort right up North of the outer wall. The journey took an hour itself.” She shook her head. “Then she makes us come back the other way! She’s a Mother-damned hardass, that's for sure.”
“What class was this?” another asked, eating something indeterminate out of a bowl.
“Total Defence,” the first speaker quoted, “It’s an uncommon class apparently. There were only about eight of us there. Oh, listen to this. That abrasive girl from this morning was kept behind. Didn’t hear exactly what for. But she’s still not back, so it can’t have been anything good.”
A few of the others chuckled at that. Alix wasn’t one of them. Though he wasn’t quite part of the conversation, either. More like eavesdropping. He was evidently within earshot, leaning on a wooden beam at the side of the room. But nobody made any move to address him nor quiet their tone. He was completely insignificant to them.
“Any word from the other housings?” one asked, piquing the interest of the group, “I heard from a friend in Shipden that there were sailors’ cooks by the waterfront that would give them discounts.”
“That’s stupid. It would ruin the whole point of Halicynth. They probably just threatened whatever poor sod was grilling unsalted fish. Do you even think before just spreading whatever has entered your ears in the past hour?”
“Hey,” he lashed, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice, “That’s completely—”
“I heard,” interjected one student, “That there was a cadet that didn’t make it to student intake.”
Alix’s eyes snapped onto the speaker. He’d glossed over him before because he had been reading, head down. Now Alix saw sharp green eyes flick over the assembled group. A lock of jet-black hair hung lazily across his forehead. He put it back in place with a flick before he began speaking again. He didn’t need to interrupt anyone this time; he already had the room’s undivided attention.
“It was the Underside housing, you know the one. In Feynman district. It was fresh in everyone’s minds during the first period, because their overseer threw a fit. Apparently let it slip during the announcement—you know, told the whole lot that a Praetorian escort had been accosted by rogue mages in the dead of night. The specifics of each transport are not supposed to be communicated or spread—we all know the details of how secure it’s supposed to be. The Crown can’t be taking it well. I haven’t heard another peep since.”
“I don’t think I’m taking it well,” another grumbled, seemingly on behalf of the whole group—Alix included, it seemed. The boy who’d shared the story casually went back to reading. Alix reeled.
So, a targeted strike against a specific, protected target. That’s already a tall order, but a Crown escort in the dead of night? And to think, Alix was already on-edge. The one who’d told the story was well connected. That alone was reason enough for Alix to pull out a chair next to the reading youth on the outskirts of the conversation. Come on, Alix, channel your argumentative side.
“I’m not submitting to interrogation, newbie,” he said, not deigning to put down the book.
“I am just as much a newbie as you are,” responded Alix, refusing to be scared off by the other’s supposed nonchalance.
“You really believe that, don’t you…?” He looked up over his book with a questioning expression.
“Alix,” he offered, “And yes, I do.”
“Well then, I’m Jayden.” He still didn’t put down the book. “But I’m sorry to disappoint you; I can’t tell you who killed the missing student.”
“Oh?” Alix said, keeping a smirk off his face, “No no, I think we all know who murdered the initiate. The only thing I’m wondering is why the Crown allows such an altercation to go unpunished. Considering the lengths the Praetorians go to in order to keep true magics off the streets, why hasn’t there been retribution?”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Jayden put down the book. One point to Alix.
“The perpetrators weren’t found,” he said slowly, as if trying to get all the words in the correct order, “It was by the west end, closer to the wall. Nobody knows the name of the one who was taken.”
“So the Praetorians can’t?” Alix pushed.
“It’s audacious to assume that you of all people would know if someone was arrested.” Jayden seemed to find his stride in the conversation. “Have you even read the newspaper today? The criminals were likely killed on the spot.”
“Not taken to Pyre Hall as prisoners?” Alix asked. The Cityside prison that sat to the very North of Lacurna, where the Kell came out of the proper mountains. It connected to the Stonewright fort of the outer wall and was famed for being mostly underground.
“Praetorians are authorised to kill on sight,” Jayden shrugged, “You tell me what you think is the most likely outcome of a random attack.”
It’s death, to be certain. “But that’s not to say they were caught in the first place. I suppose we’ll know if more Halicynth students start disappearing.”
He waited tensely as Jayden narrowed his eyes, scrutinising Alix’s face. Did I overdo the macabre tone? I’ll just have to see if he picks up on it. Then Jayden gave a wolfish grin, eyes rounding on Alix.
“You’re scared. Ha!” He gave a short laugh before returning to his hasty conclusion. “Well I’m sorry that my story isn’t going to help you sleep tonight. Are you done? I could get back to reading.”
Alix licked his lips, trying to put on the act some more, before finally saying, “Do you know anywhere I could get a Beacon?”
Jayden shook his head, chuckling. “And you still say you’re not a newbie, huh? A stupid light spell won’t protect you from rogue mages. But sure, I know a place. You can get a Beacon under the table at a place called the Bower Markets, though don’t dare hint about the Praetorians. They don’t like our type in the Burns.”
“The Burns?” Alix asked, feigning innocence, “I thought the Crown forbade us from going there.”
All suspicion had left Jayden’s tone. “Did the overseer say that this morning? No. The mana-tracker doesn’t ask questions, they’ll let you through the outer wall just fine.”
“Thanks,” was all the response he gave. Alix two, Jayden zero. It wasn’t information that he could act on immediately, but it was important information nonetheless. Jayden—with all his assumptions—had revealed two things. He contemplated them while withdrawing from the table and retreating back upstairs.
The Praetorians aren’t omniscient. And there are other rogue mage factions than the White Hand. Unless there was an exceptional amount of information he was missing about Reyla, the student was probably not killed by the White Hand. It just didn’t fit Alix’s model of the group, with their diligent secrecy and fear of the Praetorians. It must have been a separate group, probably also operating in the Burns. The thought didn’t fill him with confidence.
The only possibility that it might’ve been the White Hand was if this other student was a member of a rival gang. Reyla might have taken personal action to ensure that nobody else infiltrated the Halicynth Program, though it also gave evidence for other rogue mages. Despite his disagreement with Jayden, Alix really had no idea whether the assassins had been captured or not. But even the fact that they did the murder in the first place shows how the Praetorians aren’t all-powerful.
Though he still shuddered to think about rogue mages powerful enough to take them on. Such was the power the Crown agents held.
The other thing is whatever Jayden called the ‘mana-tracker’. The tracking part was obvious from the name, but the way he’d said it… is this mana-tracker what let me cross the Kell with no questions asked? It would certainly explain some things. Maybe the automatic door at Unknowing? But that seems like a wasted use of magic. Either way, he had his answer from Jayden: he was able to enter the Burns without heavy scrutiny.
I won’t, not yet. I still could be found normally—whether someone else gets suspicious or my own stupidity. That was an outcome he preferably avoided. It would be soon, he decided. I want a Beacon for practising magic as soon as possible. The part-planning, part-daydreaming stayed with him as he made his way to bed. He was thrown out of the reverie by a crashing wooden door beneath him.
That was Yuhan’s, wasn’t it. He was sure he remembered her exiting from it that morning. Does that mean she’s back? She cut it close, whatever she was doing. The sun had been down for over an hour now. Alix didn’t want to know what would happen if Halicynth students were out past curfew.
But what if it was someone else entering her room? Alix could easily think of a few people who might want to search for blackmail. He stepped down the stairs and knocked on the door. Yuhan answered it, face blotchy. Her eyes visibly drooped a few times while Alix just stood there.
“Hi?” she said eventually. “Can I help you?”
“I, erm.” Alix suddenly felt like his reason for coming down was a stupid one. “I thought it might be someone else in your room? So I came. To check.”
Yuhan blinked slowly a few times. “He’s so weird,” she muttered, pulling away from the gap in the sliding door and sitting hard on the desk. She still wore the same clothes as earlier today, only now they were muddy and scuffed in a few places.
“Are you okay?” Alix offered. She was obviously physically exhausted. But he had no idea whether it might still just be the lack of sleep the night before. The bedraggled clothes seem to indicate otherwise.
“Yeah, sure,” she responded, “Actually no, scratch that. I’m absolutely drained. Do you know what class I just had? I had Total Defence.”
“Oh, right,” Alix understood. And realised that he was just keeping the poor woman awake. “I heard about Master Peila. Sorry, I’ll go now.” He shut the door in front of him and shimmied away. There was a muffled exclamation from her room. But Alix assumed it wasn’t directed at him.
What was the Total Defence instructor making Yuhan do that stretched until nine o’clock? Alix wondered, slipping back into his own tiny room and preparing for bed. He spent a moment languishing the upcoming group project before setting the thought aside. Out of the two lessons I’ve had so far, one was magic and one was science. If it continues at this rate, I’ll do well in at least half the classes. Though the science that had once been his only goal now burned alongside another passion. I’ll try and get a Beacon soon. That will make it easier to start casting magic for real.
The Halicynth Program was state-of-the-art. Completely above any other educational program in Lacurna—as well as the whole country of Regivall, if one student was to be believed. It was still, however, school. And as such, many mundane aspects of it passed by in a blur. The only thing that regularly changed was the way Alix travelled to each of his diverse classrooms. He wasn’t sure if it made any difference. But using the exact same path each time was bound to be noticed eventually. So he changed it. Not by much, just enough to not see the same people in shops at the same times each day. He also avoided travelling with others, unless he was going with Yuhan to Unknowing.
Part of the problem was that until he passed Uwe’s class, he couldn’t move on to learning any proper magic. He’d thought that the next lesson would be more eye-opening than the first. But it had been barely better than a magic class at Camherst Academy. Uwe was sympathetic to their boredom. Somewhat, at least. He urged them to show him even a single piece of magic if ever they could. But Unknowing was for students whose practice of magic was deeply entrenched in University propaganda, so that not even Uwe’s repetitious demonstrations could counter.
“You see,” he addressed the class on only Alix’s second lesson, the one where they’d needed definitions of magic, “To pass this introductory subject you only need to channel one single mana, unaided. It’s the most base unit of magic; the energy needed to raise a millilitre of water by one degree in temperature. Passing also requires you to achieve it in less than twelve seconds. It’s an incredibly easy task once you get into the right headspace, but none of you are there yet. Some are closer than others.” He gave Alix a pointed look.
He hadn’t given in his first—more personal—answer for the homework, instead just scribbling down something superficial and hoping for the best. It pained him to give such little care to an academic task. But after waking the next morning he had cringed away at the weird definition that had been on the paper. Regardless of how he had actually felt, Uwe would not have accepted it. Now, the professor seemed to have it out for him.
To make matters worse, Alix didn’t have a single clue of how he was supposed to channel magic using nothing but willpower. It was always different using the Beacon, he reminisced while walking to Mechanics—some four days after first entering the Halicynth program. The Beacon always seemed to want to take the energy from whatever source I used. It actively helped the process. He knew, intellectually, that this was the crutch which made people dependent on the Beacons themselves. But trying to cast magic without one was like running into a brick wall. Or trying to run, but realising your legs are tied. He didn’t even know how to start.
But aside from Unknowing, Alix excelled at every class. Completing the set of sciences, his other remaining two classes were Mechanics—which was just pure physics—and Mind. It felt like a really misleading name to Alix because it dealt with so much more than just the brain. There wasn’t much content to cover in regards to the mind itself, but the class had already discussed the latest advances in organ systems and bodily fluids in just the one class that Alix had attended so far. With the promise of much more to come.
Mind was held in an old church which had been inhabited by a kindly old woman who grew vegetables in the courtyard-come-greenhouse. The thick, clouded glass let in the sunlight but obscured the public’s view, so nobody knew the sixty-something woman as a mage who cultured magical plants and taught Halicynth students to pick apart human bone structure. Thankfully, she only did this using simplistic illusion magic at first.
“Very good, very good,” she chuckled, lauding the last student to volunteer themselves and answer a question, “Next, we have this organ. Who can name this next one?”
Where the outline of a human had once shown an oblong spleen, now a small chunk glowed at the base of the skull, about half the size of Alix’s fist. Nobody raised their hand. Professor Edda looked around with surprise on her face before huffing and answering the question herself.
“That should have been an easy one,” she grumbled, keeping the illusion up and magnifying the view of the head, “This, children, is the Nexus. How you don’t recognise it is beyond me. But carrying on. This is the part we refer to when we mean the core of your magic. See here how it connects to the brain stem?” She made the different brain sections different colours so the class could see it better. “The magic from everyone’s Nexus permeates their body, protecting them from harmful spells trying to directly infringe on their anatomy, for example. It’s why even the Praetorians can’t simply scoop your brain out from twenty metres away. But I digress. Each of your Nexuses should be different. Because each of you has the capacity to affect the world outside your own body with magic. This is what makes mages unique, though anatomical studies have shown no physical differences in the Nexus…”
She rattled on, speaking about parts of the brain that weren’t yet properly understood. The Nexus was one of them, she was saying, but Alix had stopped listening. I know someone who can cast magic inside another’s body. At least, he thought he did. That person was Fallon, the girl who had caused him to fail his original science Medallion with a spell inside his own brain. Alix shivered. Could she have just killed me then and there? By crushing my brain or a thousand other different ways. The thought was nothing short of terrifying. But thankfully he didn’t have to listen to Edda much longer, as the class was finishing up.
He gave the old professor his thanks and slipped out of the stuffy greenhouse classroom.
Mother damn it, he cursed, checking his timetable for his second class of the day, I have to do group work with that bratty Crownside boy for chemistry. There was also the more immediate issue of actually getting to Nerim Manor in time for class, as his biology lesson had been firmly nestled deep within Cityside. In the end, Alix just decided to hire a carriage to deposit him at the foot of the Crown rise—he still had a portion of his parents’ money left, after all. Though in a week or so he would be due for another visit to his parents in the Burns.
It might coincide with when I buy a Beacon to practise with, Alix thought, wincing as the carriage jostled over some uneven paving. The ride became smoother as he got closer to Crownside, eventually terminating at the beginning of the road up to house Nerim. Alix thanked the driver and paid his fare.
Allowing a specific servant at the gatehouse to escort him to the elevator, Alix rose once again into the chemistry labs that were offered to Halicynth students by House Nerim, as well as Professor Yorich who ran them. The abrasive boy was already seated and unpacked by the time Alix arrived, watching him with lips pursed and staring at Alix from the corners of his eyes.
“Look,” Alix hissed before the other student could get a word out, “We do our parts, we don’t talk. This doesn’t have to mean bad grades for either of us. It’s simple work that I’m sure we both know.”
Fletcher narrowed his eyes, weighing Alix’s instruction against his obvious desire to put him down as an ‘unschooled Citysider’. But then he relented, peeling back his gaze and focusing once again on the simple chemical problems before them.
“Fine,” he said, voice tainted like the acids they would be working with, “I am amenable to that.”
Compared to dealing with Fletcher, the task itself was easy. Alix finished his part, waited impatiently for a few minutes until the class finally ended, then was up and out before he could be spoken to. It wouldn’t be the last he spoke with Fletcher Rawsthorne, but every second he could avoid it was a blessing. He spent the walk back to the Rookery in more comfortable silence.