The vitality that had filled Volithur drained away on the walk to the palace, leaving him exhausted and sore. It seemed his aches had not healed after all. The Sergeant gave him instructions as they approached the tiered pyramid.
“Always show up showered and in a fresh uniform. Don’t be late. Sit in the back of the classroom with the other commoners. Don’t speak unless you are directly addressed, and then be sure to use proper titles. If you don’t know the rank of someone, call them master.”
Volithur almost tripped. “Are the other students nobles?”
“Of course they’re nobles. Did you think a class in the palace would be full of groundskeepers? The senior staff are permitted to send their children to class as well, but the difference between the son of a Records Keeper and the untalented great-grandson of the Lord General is not so large. The difference between a ward and the noble students is comparably much more. Though your status might be greater in potential given you have the Lord General’s favor. Any noble stationed at the fifth household does not hold such favor.”
“Why is there even a fifth household?”
The Sergeant laughed. “To tax the city outside the gates, of course. Money and conscripts are necessary to fight wars. And wars are necessary to gain prestige among the Lords of Tian. The Lord General has a Transit Sphere Externality, so he fields large armies and settles satellite households on conquered worlds.”
Their conversation cut off as they entered the palace. They made quick time as they approached a corner room on the ground floor filled with bookshelves, the airy space illuminated by a series of skylights. Volithur took a deep breath through his nose, savoring the scent of books and wood. To one side of the library stood a door, beyond which awaited a classroom full of wooden desks arranged in neat rows before a chalkboard.
A portly man whose chubby cheeks were partly concealed by facial hair met them at the door. The man sniffed as if he had encountered something unpleasant. “You are Ward Harridan? I had expected a future footman of the Lord General to be more impressive.”
The Sergeant cleared his throat. “Ward harridan, this is the Head Scribe, who is in charge of education in the household. You are to obey his commands and work hard.”
“Your assistance is neither necessary or desired, Sergeant. Go swing a spear outside.”
The Sergeant inclined his head. “Excellent advice, Master Scribe. After all, spear work is the reason the Lord General set up this household.”
“Then be on your way, Sergeant.” The Head Scribe watched the Sergeant exit with narrow eyes, then turned to face Volithur. “I hope you know your place better than your superior, Ward Harridan.”
“I am at your command, Master Scribe.”
The Head Scribe lifted his nose into the air. “As is proper. Seating in my classroom is by rank. You may take one of the four desks against the back wall. I can foresee no reason for you to speak. Sit quietly and absorb what learning you can.” A thought suddenly occurred to the Head Scribe. “Can you read?”
“Yes, Master Scribe.”
“Can you perform calculations?”
“Yes, Master Scribe.”
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The Head Scribe considered him. “Your etiquette is passable. If your reading and calculating are at a sufficient level, we might have a chance at properly educating you.”
A dismissive flick of the wrist told Volithur that he should take a desk, so he obeyed the unspoken command in respectful silence. Everyone in the palace has to rub in their superior position at every opportunity. I guess I will just have to be secretly satisfied knowing that I fooled them all into treating me better than they would prefer.
Fifteen minutes later, the room began to fill with other students. A boy of about his age sat down in the back row beside Volithur and bared his teeth in a smile. “You are the Ward receiving an education, I presume?”
“Yes, Master.”
The boy’s smile grew wider. “No need to be so formal. I am a commoner myself. I’m Hazen, eldest son of the Records Keeper.”
A girl at the front of the room drew his eye. Long chestnut hair, pale porcelain skin, full lips, and delicate features caused his breath to catch for a moment. She was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Beside him, Hazen smirked. “Ward Harridan, are you dreaming above your station?”
Volithur blushed and pulled his gaze away from the beauty. “I just looked to the front of the room for a moment, is all.”
“Rolanda is the gem of the fifth household. Sons of the family visit here on occasion to make her acquaintance. A commoner who appeared to be soliciting her attention would not be treated well.” Hazen placed a hand on Volilthur’s shoulder. “My best relationship advice would be to seek out a commoner girl of low station. There are many with passing looks and they would be filled with everlasting gratitude if you elevated their standing. It’s a much happier outcome for everyone than if a jealous noble targeted you.”
“Oh,” Volithur said, for want of a more intelligent response.
Up front, the Head Scribe bowed to the class and began a lecture on proper manners when interacting with people in various positions. How low to incline your head to a superior equal versus a true superior versus a chief superior. Where to stand. What to do with your hands. Proper protocol for opening doors, where to stand in mixed groups, even how loud to laugh at jokes. As ridiculous as the lecture seemed, the other students listened with rapt attention, nodding along to the bits they already knew and pondering thoughtfully on the more challenging material.
Volunteers from among the more prestigious students would participate in demonstrations, provide answers, or pose questions while the back half of the room sat in strict observation of the proceedings. Volithur learned a lot. He suspected the information would prove a useful guide for the rest of his life. As much as he despised the fact that he existed in a society that valued such strict hierarchies and regimented social interactions, he had learned well his first lesson among the fifth household: improper decorum would not be tolerated.
The lesson went on for an hour before they switched topics. Next came arithmetic, which the Head Scribe called calculations in a tone that gave it an esoteric air. The Head Scribe made oblique comments about how everyone present might not be able to understand the intricacies of the basic multiplication process he was demonstrating, which Volithur assumed were directed at him.
Towards the end of that segment, the Head Scribe begged for everyone’s full attention as he demonstrated division. Volithur schooled his features to prevent the sneer he felt on the inside from escaping. These people who looked down on him were confused by material he had mastered in elementary school on his own world. Judging by the time it took the Head Scribe to perform arithmetic in his head, Volithur thought it a good bet that he was the most knowledgeable mathematician in the room.
At the end of the hour, they switched topics once more. This time they turned towards practicing a form of mental projection, what they called ‘band communication’. Volithur sat very still, his earlier pride in his academic prowess absent as he realized he lacked the necessary mental enhancement to participate. Indeed, he hadn’t even realized telepathy was possible for the Xian.
The end of the third hour arrived and the Head Scribe bowed to the class, thanked them for their attention, and wished them a good day. The students left the room en mass, strolling through the library to disappear into the depths of the palace. The Head Scribe held up a hand to stop Volithur before he could join the exodus.
“Ward Harridan, the bottom shelf behind the reading table has a set of beginner curriculum that I expect you to familiarize yourself with. You can use the time between the end of class and dinner to do your reading. Do not remove any of the books or smudge them with dirty fingers.”
“As you command, Master Scribe.”