39 - THE ACADEMY

Exactly one week after my meeting with the Autarch, a woman came to collect me. Tall, with long, red hair tied up in a bun, she wore a simple, black government uniform with a golden pin, shaped like a fist, fixed to her breast.

“My name is Limora Aseria,” she said tonelessly. “I will be escorting you to the Academy.”

At that point, I was exhausted from days of exploring the city, and also eager to leave. I’d spent hours wandering through the busy streets, browsing markets, and searching for the largest, grandest buildings in the city. I was convinced that in only a few days, I’d seen a million or more people, and when I closed my eyes, faces swam before me, and the low murmur of conversation echoed in my ears. I did not think I was built for cities. For the crushing press of so many bodies. For the strong smells, the endless sound, the approach of strangers intent on selling me things. Fascinating and enlightening as it all was, I was excited now to attend the Academy.

“Lead the way,” I said.

Limora led me out of the Victory Palace to where a carriage waited for us. Inside, we sat opposite each other, and moments later, the driver cracked their whip and we were off. A ride through Althira followed. Limora reached into her bag and pulled out a small, black box, gilded along its edges. She opened it. Inside, pastries, with bright, yellow tops.

“Lemon tarts,” she said. “My favorite. My brother is a baker. Would you like one?”

Curiosity left me unable to resist. I bit into one and was overwhelmed by how sour it was. And, also, delicious. My mouth watered.

“My compliments to your brother,” I said. A suspicious part of me wondered if she had ulterior motives for bringing the tarts, but I dismissed the thought. I was growing too distrustful already, trained into assuming everything that the Autarchy did was a trick or game of some kind. But then, perhaps that was for the best.

“So,” I said, as the carriage bounced along the rough stone roads. “What exactly do you do?”

“I’m an assistant to the Autarch,” said Limora. “I do all sorts of things. Whatever he requires of me.”

“Is he a good master?” The question didn’t quite come out right, but Limora smiled nonetheless.

“So long as my work is good, yes.”

A long silence stretched out between us. The Academy was situated fifty miles outside of Althira, out in the countryside. There was a train station just outside of the city that was connected to the Academy, and it was there that we were headed. That was another source of excitement for me. I’d heard of trains. Justinia had tried to describe them to me once, but I hadn’t quite been able to wrap my head around what they looked like. I was glad to have the chance to see them for myself.

“Now,” said Limora, “there are a few things we must go over quickly. Namely, your cover story. The other students are going to want to know all about you. They’ll more than likely have their families investigate. You’ll automatically be an outsider, Aurion, owing to the fact you’re not from an important family. Except now, for the duration of your time at the Academy, you will be from such a family.”

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“The Autarch has arranged for you to assume the last name Cariden. It’s an old and powerful family that can trace its roots all the way back to the Autarchy’s very first Sun Knight. Perhaps you know his name?”

“Damos,” I said, recalling the man from one of the history books I’d had time to tear through.

“Indeed. A close friend of the Autarch. He died in service to the state and, afterward, his family was elevated to a position of power. Sadly, there aren’t many of them left. We’ll go over all surviving members in a moment. Technically, they are now your family.”

“Won’t the others know that something is amiss when they come across a Cariden they’ve never even heard of before?”

“Not at all. It’s common for the more powerful families to hide the identities of their heirs. It makes assassination attempts more difficult.”

My eyebrows went up. If assassins were such a dire threat for the upper echelons of the Autarchy, then the empire wasn’t quite as united as I’d first thought. I was beginning to think that they suffered from drastic internal issues. Fragmentation. Distrust. Ambition.

Powerful, yes. But also rotting from the inside.

“This will be difficult,” the lady continued. “You’ll need to memorize the details of your new identity, and memorize them fast. As a general rule, it’ll be safer to talk as little about yourself as possible. Keep your head down. Do the work. Don’t attract too much attention.”

I nodded. That would’ve been my plan anyway. I was not one for drama or distraction. At my heart, I was studious, wanting nothing more than to dive head-first into as many old tomes as possible. Everything else, I couldn’t care less about.

Over the course of the next hour, as we drew closer to the train station, Limora drilled me on my new identity. It was not as difficult as she’d said it would be. There were only three other surviving members of the Cariden family: the matriarch and her two children, a twin brother and sister. I was now, at least on paper, the third child of the matriarch, and the oldest. Limora assured me that the moment I graduated from the Academy, the lie would no longer be necessary, and my false-self, Aurion Cariden, would, for the sake of the records, be said to have died in a tragic accident.

“Last thing,” Limora said as the carriage shuddered to a stop. “If, at any point, you feel as though your life is in grave danger, and you need to be pulled from the Academy, arrange for a private meeting with the Grand Scholarch. He is a close friend of the Autarch and he alone will know your situation.” Limora paused and looked at me gravely. “But do this only as a last resort, because once it’s done, it cannot be undone, and your future prospects will be drastically altered.”

“I understand,” I said. I had absolutely no intention of running to the Grand Scholach under any circumstances, not just out of pride, but because I refused to be further indebted to the Autarch, and to require him to come swooping in to save me.

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“Well then,” Limora said, “I believe that’s just about everything.” She reached across and offered me a simple piece of paper stamped with the fist of the Autarch. “This will secure a seat for you on the train, and get you through the Academy gates. Another tart before you go?”

“No, thank you.” I climbed out of the carriage and opened my mouth to offer her some parting words, but she’d already diverted her attention to a stack of documents that had somehow materialized in her lap. She called to the driver and, at once, the carriage lurched forward, leaving me alone.

#

The train proved to be even more of a marvel than I imagined.

I sat with my face pressed up against the glass as the countryside blurred past. The train was terribly noisy, and its horn frequently shattered my thoughts, but there was something about all the noise, about the weight of the thing, and its speed, that left me in awe of its power. Machinery. Industry. Innovation. The defining characteristics of the Autarchy, and the traits that had allowed it so easily dominate the rest of the world. Having even a few critical members of a government who were effectively immortal was a boon I was only just starting to fully appreciate. Any normal nation had to deal with the transfer of competence, ability, and knowledge—once a leader or some other critical person died, their mind was lost also, and someone else needed to replace them. Someone who might not share the same vision, or who might not be quite as sharp or ambitious. It was fundamentally profoundly inefficient. If, instead, you had highly competent individuals who could work on the same problems over the course of centuries…it was easy to see how quickly a state could get ahead of their competitors.

Two members of the Terarch Guard patrolled the length of the train, belt buckles gleaming, hands resting on the hilts of their swords. One eyed me, lips twisting down in a frown. I saw, in my head, the faces of all the Guards I’d killed. Of the innocents who had been cut down in my wake. Maybe they could see my guilt written all over me.

“Don’t worry about them,” a young man said, sliding into the seat opposite me. “I swear, in all my years, I’ve never seen a single Guard actually smile.” He grinned at me. “And that’s saying something, considering my father is Master of the Terarch Guard.” He thrust a hand toward me. “Mezamir Rin. A pleasure.”

I blinked, taken off guard by the rapid-fire nature of the man’s speech, by the hand hovering inches from my face. I took in a firm grip and shook it. “Aurion Cariden,” I said. “A pleasure, indeed. Is your father really Master of the Guard?”

“Of course,” Mezamir said, leaning back. He appeared to be around the same age as me, with curly, blond hair framing an angular face. His eyes were a bright, crystalline grin, his smile broad and showing off perfect, white teeth. He had the physique of a man who’d dedicated his whole life to athletic pursuits; his shoulders were broad, his arms thick and rippling with muscle. His skin was sun-kissed. “Daron Rin, Hero of the Autarchy, the man who took and held Shadowpoint against the Daemar. Maybe you’ve heard of him. Or maybe you live under a rock.”

“If by rock you mean a great pile of books, then, yes.” But I forced a smile. “Of course, I’ve still heard his name.”

“And you, a Cariden!” He leaned forward again and slapped a hand upon my shoulder. “It’d be difficult to find a more honorable family in all the world, brother. Really it is a pleasure to meet you.” He paused. “Aurion. Let me think. You know, I’m not sure I’ve heard of you, which is odd.”

“I’ve been a carefully guarded secret all my life,” I said, grinning. “So damn precious, or at least so says my mother, that she was simply too terrified of anything happening to me. But here I am. The grand reveal.”

“Well, what a time to make the reveal. I’d wager a guess you’re headed to the Academy, eh?”

“Aren’t we all?” I said, gesturing to the rest of the carriage. It was roughly half-full with other young men and women all sitting in their own little groups.

Mezamir nodded. “That’s right. Do you know what House you’re in yet?”

I winced. “I have to be completely honest with you. I know almost nothing about the Academy or what goes on within. I didn’t even know there were Houses.” Telling him that was a risk—it was impossible that the information was so obvious that the fact I didn’t know it was incredibly suspicious. At the same time, it was simply too difficult to pretend as though I knew what was happening, and since Mezamir seemed friendly enough, I figured he was the perfect person to be honest with.

“Dead gods, man, that pile of books must’ve been deeper than I realized. You really don’t know?”

I shook my head. “Care to enlighten me?”

Mezamir ran a hand through his golden hair. Out the window, the train was speeding through rolling, green hills, the sun warm and golden. The sky was soft. The landscape seemingly endless. A serene sight. And the movement of the train, the way it seemed to ever so slightly sway from side to side, could’ve lulled me to sleep. I found myself comfortable, leaning back against the cushioned seat. Hard to believe why I was really here. And to remember what I’d been doing only a mere week ago.

“There are six Houses,” Mezamir explained. “Judgement. Fury. Radiant. Patience. Mercy. Brilliance. They have their own colors, animals, themes, and so forth. You do a test, and the results determine what House you’re assigned to. A lot of us do the test before we even arrive. I, for example, have completed mine.” A pause. “But since you don’t know anything about it, I’m going to assume you haven’t done yours yet. That means it’ll be the first thing you do once we get there.”

I nodded slowly. “And what difference does it make?”

“Well, firstly, all the Houses have their own common rooms. It determines where you sleep and who’s there with you. Your housemates are the people you’ll likely see the most. And then there’s the contest.” Another pause. “All the Houses compete. There are trials. Challenges. At the end of each year, there’s a winner.”

“And what do you win?”

“Food. Freedom. Unlimited access to certain resources. Life is a lot more comfortable.” He grinned at me. “Life isn’t easy at the Academy. That’s what my father tells me. But it’s a lot easier if you’re in the winning House. Plus, it looks better. Helps your ranking when you’re done, and that means mentorship.”

Made sense. The Autarchy was designed around hierarchy and ambition. The Academy, it seemed, was active encouragement toward valuing those principles.

“And what House are you in?” I asked.

“Ha! That you even need to ask! Fury, of course. It’s the House of the Autarch himself. I wouldn’t have settled for anything less.” His lip curled. “Especially had it been Mercy.” He spat out the word with such exaggerated distaste that I almost laughed.

But already I was nervous. House Placement, I sensed, was important.

Which one would I want to be in? If they were all determined by personality traits, then the House of Brilliance made sense. I was, at my core, a scholar, more comfortable with books than anything else. It would be an ideal result, and might allow me to study more than I otherwise would’ve. I couldn’t let myself get distracted. One of the key goals of this whole thing was to learn. To arm myself with the weapons of knowledge.

But I had no idea what the test was, nor what to expect.

Mezamir seemed to pick up on my discomfort. He squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t worry, friend. You’ll do fine, I’m sure of it. You’re a Cariden!”

His words did little to assuage my concerns.

And out the window, I could see the Academy taking form in the horizon, an immense, jagged silhouette against the afternoon sun.

I swallowed hard. My destiny awaited.