Volithur stole glances at Rolanda while the Head Scribe wrote on the chalkboard and prattled on about long division. He didn’t feel like he had made hardly any progress at cultivation since the blood boiling elixir. The soldiers thought Thassily was a genius and had begun giving him more individualized instruction. Meanwhile, the Sergeant’s private lessons became ever more awkward as Volithur failed to progress at every juncture.
“Ward Harridan, please come to the front of the room.”
Volithur startled. Row after row of faces turned to peer back at him. With timid steps, he walked to the front of the room to stand before the Head Scribe in the exact proper mini-bow stance, feet oriented at forty-five degrees to his superior’s, hands clasped before him and an ambiguously obsequious almost-smile on his face.
“Since your attention has been absent from my lecture, I can only assume you know the answer to this problem already. Please solve it while we watch.”
The solution to this social situation had never been covered in class. Did he disobey his superior’s direct command? Definitely not. But obeying would cause embarrassment for his superior, which would also be bad. The only way out of the conundrum seemed to be solving the math problem while giving a convincing performance.
Volithur took the chalk and approached the board. With carefully acted hesitance, he began to work at the solution, pausing after each step as if unsure before continuing on to the next. He dragged it out, and several times shot convincing glances towards other problems still on the board as if seeking inspiration.
When he finished, he bowed and offered the chalk back. “I hope this satisfies, Master Scribe.”
The Head Scribe gestured to the back of the room. “It satisfies, Ward Harridan. Return to your seat and retain your focus on lessons this time. The Lord General did not request you receive an education because he wanted you to gawk at the girls.”
Volithur slunk back to his seat under the titters and sneers of his betters. Hazen mimed smacking himself in the head when Volithur met his eyes. The Head Scribe, of course, made sure not to notice Hazen’s behavior. The boy’s father, it turned out, was the Head Scribe’s boss. Everyone here had connections except for him.
Well, they thought he had a shallow connection to the Lord General. That kept him in some degree of comfort, but Volithur dreaded the backlash if the members of the fifth household ever realized he was a nobody. Hopefully by that time he managed to make something of himself.
His previous plan of rising up against the Lord General in revenge had been dismissed as the ravings of a fool. He would be fortunate to one day match up against an average soldier on this backwater world. Hoping for anything more was unrealistic.
Rolanda drew his eyes once more, even as he willed them to turn any other direction.
How so much beauty could be squeezed into one woman, he didn’t understand. What made it even more unbearable were her actions. Rolanda held herself with grace and extended gentle kindness to everyone around her. She was like a damn fairy tale princess. Which would make him a random background character in the story, briefly and indirectly referenced in a line such as “many young men would stare at her great beauty”. That was him. A cardboard cutout living in a universe where great men and women held the power of gods.
But at least he was good at math. A few years of high school ensured he could calculate with the best of these uptight savages. The class transitioned to more of the telepathy stuff and, as usual, Volithur took that time to meditate on the nature of cosmic energy. The Sergeant had told him that he needed to reflect on its nature instead of just forcing mental cultivation. Inaccuracies in his conception would create inefficiencies in his practice. Or, to put it more bluntly, all of his hard work at mental cultivation wasn’t doing much good because of his ignorance.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Unfortunately, Volithur didn’t know how to meditate on the nature of cosmic energy. He had come to understand that any type of mental discipline was beneficial to the soul. The practice of meditating brought a momentary peace to his existence that he appreciated. So he continued with the practice. Mostly during the third segment of class.
Society, script, and spirit. The three S’s of education, as they said among the Xian. Script comprised reading, writing, and ‘calculations’. Spirit was mental enhancement and band communication. And society, paradoxically the most ridiculous and the most essential, was the art of interacting with nobility.
At the end of class, the Head Scribe halted Volilthur’s escape by stepping into his path.
Volithur bowed. “How may I be of assistance, Master Scribe?”
“The very same question I am considering, Ward Harridan. Your acting skill is lacking.”
“I apologize, Master Scribe?”
“On the contrary, Ward Harridan, today’s events may prove to be fortuitous. A talent for calculation is of minor use outside of scribe work, but there is one unusual circumstance where it can be of great benefit. The local region holds an academic competition annually. The fifth household of the Shaocheth family has not historically done well at the calculation event.”
Volithur’s sense of opportunity began to twinge. “I am quite good at calculations, Master Scribe, but the Marshal wants me to focus on my cultivation.”
The Head Scribe’s eyes twinkled. “I understand your plight, Ward Harridan. You would require compensation for the time you were forced to be away from your training. That isn’t an unreasonable request, in my estimation. We can barter over the value of your time once I establish your level of proficiency.”
The Head Scribe proceeded to write a series of math problems on the board. They covered addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division of large numbers. When the chalk was presented to him, Volithur snatched it up and proceeded to rapidly solve each problem. Upon returning the chalk, he received a nod of respect from his teacher.
“Do you know of variable calculations?”
“I don’t know anything by that name, Master Scribe.”
The Head Scribe stepped closer to the board and wrote out a simple algebra problem.
Volithur took the chalk from his hand and solved it, then turned to make eye contact. The Head Scribe clasped his hands together in excitement. “Hazen on spelling, Harridan on calculations, Ulysses on debate, and Khana on recital.”
“Assuming I’m able to –”
“Yes, yes, Ward Harridan, I’m aware of your desire to extort resources from this opportunity. I would think less of a commoner in your position who didn’t make the effort. I can offer you one tea powder elixir. That is coming out of my own allotment, so do not expect anything more.”
Volithur considered the offer. He already was set to receive a tea powder elixir monthly. Would receiving a second for a month make much of a difference? He didn’t know if this was a good deal or if he was being ripped off. He also couldn’t tell if the Head Scribe was open to negotiations. Bottom line, he needed resources.
“Master Scribe, how long would I be away from my training?”
“It’s a three day trip, Ward Harridan. You would be kept in comfort during that time and gain the respect of your fellow students.”
“The elixir you mentioned. Would that be provided daily?”
The Head Scribe scoffed. “Don’t act the fool, Harridan. A single elixir is the most I will offer and enough to justify your efforts. At your level of cultivation, this is a deal you cannot afford to pass up.”
Volithur sighed. “I graciously accept, Master Scribe.”
“Graciously…” The Head Scribe looked like he was ready to chew rocks. “If you want more, then ensure our team makes the final three. That earns you a full hour in the cosmic chamber of the Evergreen Institute.”
“What happens if we get first place?”
“The Evergreen Institute’s team will take first as they always have, Ward Harridan. They hold this competition to demonstrate their academic superiority, using their cosmic chamber as incentive for the rest of us to send teams.”