40 - HOUSES

As the train slowed to a stop, the true scale of the Tiran Academy struck me.

First, there was the wall that surrounded it.

Forty feet high, it was constructed from solid, black stone, a featureless ring protecting the Academy grounds. There was a massive archway through which the train passed, and elsewhere, gates protected by guards. The train crossed a bridge spanning a river of water that gleamed in the sun like liquid crystal. There were no guards along the wall—I got the sense that they weren’t needed. We were at the very heart of the Autarchy, after all. That left me to wonder if they were more to keep people in rather than out.

Past the walls, several miles of greenery stretched out before we reached the Academy itself. Rolling hills. Fields of flowers. Patches of serene woodland. Several horses stood grazing. Elsewhere, a cow.

Then the vast, elegant architecture of the Academy.

Taken as a whole, it resembled something between a cathedral and a citadel. It was a bastion of grand towers, of bridges, archways, and buildings with harsh angles and lines. In places, it seemed decorative, and in others, brutally militaristic. A thousand windows—many of them stained glass—glittered in the sun.

“Beautiful,” I murmured.

Mezamir leaned up against the glass with me. He might’ve been better informed than I was, but it was clear he was seeing this for the first time. His amazement was written plainly across his face.

The train ground to a stop. Other students rose all at once. They rushed for the exits, an exhilarated stream. I overheard patches of conversation: discussion about what House people would be in, questions regarding how difficult the tests would be, and speculation about their fellow students. Most of them, so it appeared, were my age, young adults with bright, eager eyes. A few seemed a little older. But even they felt strangely young in contrast to myself. Perhaps my short time in Tymora had aged me more than I realized, spiritually and mentally. I’d already done things that would’ve horrified these people; that they could scarcely even imagine.

I followed Mezamir off the train. A wide, marble path led from the station to what appeared to be the main bridge crossing a river separating us from the Academy. Men and women in dark blue uniforms guarded either side of the bridge. I couldn’t recognise their insignias.

“Who are they?” I asked quietly.

Mezamir glanced ahead. “Oh. They’re Academy wardens. They keep us safe and enforce the rules.”

Safe from what? I asked myself. And what are the rules?

A warden meant us at the mouth of the bridge. One extended a hand. I passed over the small piece of paper Limora had given me and the warden barely glanced at it before waving me on.

“So,” I said slowly, as the two of us walked side by side along the bridge. “What’s actually in the test?”

Mezamir glanced at me. “I’d tell you if I could, honestly, but they take those sorts of things very seriously. If you do the test early, they make you sign a contract saying you can’t talk about it.”

“And what’s the punishment?”

“Expulsion. Shame. The hatred of your own family. Outcast status.” Mezamir shrugged. “That sort of thing. Worse than death, really. At that point, the only option a person has left is to simply take a ship somewhere else, where no one will ever recognize them. Start a new life.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

A part of me wanted to tell him that there were certainly much worse fates out there. I’d seen them. Had been the cause of them, even.

And in my head, I saw the dead man Marak had shown beneath the Victory Palace. Head elongated. Body horrifically changed. The first wave of an invasion from another world. Spies sent ahead to gather information and search for vulnerabilities.

Just how long did we have before the real invasion?

And just what sort of chance did we even have?

“You alright?”

I shook myself out of my own thoughts. “I’m fine. Just a little…anxious.”

“About the test?”

I nodded.

“Listen, I can’t tell you what it involves…but you seem smart. I think you’ll be fine. And really, you can’t actually lose. It’s just House sorting. Unless you get placed in Mercy.” He paused. “That’d be bad.”

I frowned at him. “What’s so bad about House Mercy?”

“It’s in the name, really.” When I didn’t react, he sighed, added, “Let’s just say mercy isn’t one of the core tenets of the Autarchy. It just limits your options when you graduate, in terms of who you might expect as a mentor. For example, if you really want to make a difference, I’d suggest the military. Become apprentice to a general. Shadow one for a few years, go on campaign. And then, after not too long, get your own division. Win a few good victories and your career is made. A Mercy House student, though, isn’t getting into the military. Maybe you’ll be an apprentice to some administrator, a scientist, something like that…” he shrugged again. “Listen, just don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine.”

Comforting words. At the very least, it was difficult to be overly anxious about which House I received when I knew so little about all of them.

At the end of the bridge, a solid, iron gate led into the Academy itself. Autarchy flags swayed in the warm breeze. A hundred or more students were gathered around. Some were slowly trickling into the Academy. Others were being led off to the side, toward a separate, lonely building along the river.

“That’s where you’ll do the test,” Mezamir explained.

I nodded, watching as some students entered the building, while others left. Some exited with grins. Others with pained, worried expressions. It seemed as though we found out the results immediately. Pieces of metal gleamed where they’d been pinned to their chests. Insignias. A girl passed me with a pink square affixed to her shirt; inside the square was an open eye.

Mezamir saw my questioning look, said, “We have to wear House pins at all times.”

“The eye in the square…?”

“House Brilliance.”

A pair of wardens approached us. One, a gruff, white-haired man, said, “Either of you two need to sit the test?”

“I do,” I offered, trying on a smile that conveyed more confidence than I actually felt.

The warden pointed to the building. “Go there. Good luck.” And then, to Mezamir: “Results, please.”

While Mezamir sorted out his results with the warden, I ambled toward the building, glancing over my shoulder, at which point Mezamir shot me a grin and gave me a thumbs-up. It was nice to have a friend already. I’d never had many, and I missed Justinia, and especially Felice. Thinking of the latter, I felt a tug of anxiety. I liked her. A lot. And reckoned she felt the same way about me. Now that we were apart, however, and it seemed as though I might spend the next four years in the Academy…it was difficult to imagine things would ever pick up where they left off. It was impossible, even, that she wouldn’t be alive in four years, as much as I hated that thought. The Thorns were in a tricky position. The Autarch would hunt them down until he got his hands on Akios. And even excluding the governor from the equation, I doubted that the Thorns would stop fighting. It’s just who they were. They’d remain defiant until the very end.

I resolved to send a message back to them through Stumbles as soon as possible. I would urge them to be patient. If I could secure myself a prominent position in the Autarchy, I could help the Thorns. I could pass on information, or take control of an army, bending them to my will. I could overthrow the government from the inside—

Calm, I urged myself. I could not allow myself to get carried away. Control yourself. One step at a time.

First: the test.