Academy - Gate Travel Preparatory Classroom

Rowan sat next to Osiris in a brightly lit room. They were in a half circle of colosseum-style seating with about a hundred other students—probably about a third of the first year Humanoids.

Large, stained glass windows decorated the curved wall around the room. The classroom was in one of the Academy towers, taking up an entire floor aside from the spiral staircase outside the door at the top of the seating area. A series of candle-lit chandeliers hung from the ceiling, adding to the sunlight streaming through the windows.

An ancient, white-haired human professor stood on a stage below, droning on about safe travel beyond World Gates. Many of the students listened intently, but to anyone who grew up knowing they'd be coming to the Academy or who had family legacy here, most of this was common knowledge.

"The System will do its best to keep you safe," the professor said. Professor Xavus. He was a Priest class, donned in the classic white robe, his long white beard almost melting into the outfit. A golden staff in his hand acted more as a walking stick to help keep the man upright rather than a weapon. The lazurite stone mounted atop was dull.

"When do you think the last Gate he crossed was?" Osiris whispered. "Third Age?"

Rowan stifled a snort.

Professor Xavus took a few unnecessary steps across the stage, his cane-staff tapping with each footfall. "The waypoints are there for two reasons. First, to aid you in accomplishing your tasks and keeping you on track. Second—and most importantly—to ensure you do not find yourself in a dangerous situation. The World Gates are an incredible gift from the Creator and they come with minimal risk or downside. There are very few scenarios in which true harm may befall you, but they do exist. And they are not to be trifled with.

"Corruption. It is a true danger. The majority of you will never need to think about it again after this class, but it is my duty to prepare you for that rare eventuality. If you should happen to see a black dot on your map, you run. You do whatever it takes to reach a Respawn Hub. I do not care what Energy or items you lose. Nor should you.

"Luckily, only two instances of Corruption have been recorded within established waypoints across any World in the past decade. The System generates waypoints to avoid Corruption. And rightfully so.

"Corrupt beings can not be harmed by physical or magical attacks. Any damage dealt to you will be permanent, as will be death. True, irreversible death."

Osiris yawned beside Rowan, causing him to yawn as well. He punched his friend.

"Ow!" Osiris hissed.

A pair of elf girls a few rows ahead peered back. One frowned.

"Oh, thanks," Osiris whispered. "You're already making me look like a fool in front of our new roommates."

"You do that well enough on your own," Rowan said.

He'd finally met the four other students sharing their suite—all of whom were in this class.

There was the dwarf Warrior, Regolith Anvilfist—a distant descendant of the famous smithy Lazgar Anvilfist himself, the discoverer of Lazgaryl and inventor of the Energy Capsule. They'd probably be learning about him in the history class. He sat with their other roommate, Tully Tusktree, in the back of the room.

Tully was probably the most energetic troll Rowan had ever met in his life. He practically bounced off the walls like a rubberized slime. Even now, he could hear the troll tapping his feet, as if he were about to burst. He was probably a little unpredictable to be an effective Mage, but Rowan was willing to be proven wrong.

And then there were the two elf girls.

While Regolith and Tully had been more than willing to strike up friendly conversation in their common area, the elves were particularly standoffish—as elves often were.

Eloise Bramblewood was a Hunter with long green hair that flowed almost to her knees. And that was pretty much all Rowan had been able to deduce about her. She seemed friendly with their final roommate, though, which meant she must be at least semi-important.

Because by no stroke of coincidence, his final roommate was none other than Exelyn Savrenias, fourth child of the Elf Lord Liro Savrenias. Their introduction had been cold. She didn't even take his hand when he offered to shake.

Thank you, father, for blessing me with all these royal brats to babysit. Garo and his hooligans were also in this class, sitting far across the room, and paying little heed to the professor’s constant scowls their direction.

Unlike the human royal lineage, the elves seemed to actually care for all their children, and—from what Rowan could tell—people respected Exelyn Savrenias as if she were the heir herself, not fourth in line.

I can't even imagine what that would be like. He wasn't bitter... Not even a little bit...

He watched the elf princess as she twirled a finger through her chin-length pink hair, and couldn't tell if she was bored or if it was a subconscious habit she did when she was focused. All this information would have been taught to her from the time she was a toddler. She wore a casual loose blouse that would never suggest either the fact that she was royalty or a Level 19 Rogue—the highest starting Level among their batch of first years.

Maybe that was his problem. Am I trying too hard? If I acted and dressed like her, I'd be reprimanded and despised just as much. If not more. It's a no-win situation. And what's so wrong about enjoying a nice set of clothes anyway?

"Now, the System can do a great deal," Professor Xavus said. He'd circled around the entire stage twice at this point and was visibly and audibly out of breath. "But it can't control everything. Four key things to remember. Your actions within the designated waypoints, Heroes actions, World residents and their actions—they'll show up as white dots in your map, by the way—and Corruption. These are the four primary things the System can never control."

A finger tapped on Rowan's shoulder, followed by a whisper. "Excuse me, Prince Rowan." It was a young boy behind him holding a sealed scroll. "A message for you."

He thanked the courier and took the scroll.

"A love letter?" Osiris said, leaning closer. "Already? How do you do it?"

Rowan shoved him back. "You're such an idiot."

He rolled the scroll over to see the seal. Then his heart skipped a beat.

The symbol imprinted in the wax was for the Infirmary.

"Do you think it's from that cute mage we talked to yesterday?" Osiris continued. "I'm pretty sure she was more into me, but you—"

Rowan shoved the seal in front of his friend's face.

"Oh. Well, Creator's balls... That can't be good."

No. It definitely can't be good. As far as he knew, the only students currently in the Infirmary were the zombies, still recovering from Osiris' overdose of sleeping draught. Did one of the healers suspect something? There's no other reason for someone from the Infirmary to send me a message.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

He hesitantly broke the wax and opened the scroll, Osiris leaning over his shoulder all the while.

The note had a single line of well-written script. 'Rowan Regicast, your presence has been requested by Shaman Ravine in the Infirmary. Please come at your earliest convenience.'

Osiris whistled softly, earning another scowl from Exelyn Savrenias in front of them. He patted Rowan's back. "Yeah, buddy. It was nice knowing you."

I swear to the Creator, Osiris... You're literally the worst.

Rowan waited imptiently for the class to end, tapping his foot as obnoxiously as Tully the troll. This was not going to be a fun visit to the Infirmary—not that any visit there was.

Once class was finally over and everyone was packing their belongings, Professor Xavus left them with one final sobering piece of information, as if he’d forgotten to mention it during his lecture. "Remember… It is thrilling to be in a new World with enhanced stats and incredible skills, but these are irrelevent in Pentory. When you spend a lot of time beyond the Gates, it’s easy to think you are invincible—easy to forget that you are only Humanoid back home. There are no bonuses or special skills aside from what you can do with your own two hands and any Heroic Energy granted to you. Best you don’t forget that."

Rowan had been standing outside the Infirmary for several minutes.

If she accuses me of poisoning the Monsters, I'm just going to deny it. I'm a prince for Creator's sake.

It's not like scuffles between Monsters and Humanoids were a rare thing at the Academy. She must have had tons of students in the Infirmary because of it over the years. This was nothing different. He couldn't get in trouble for the same nonsense that had been going on for generations.

It'll be fine. Do what you always do...

He straightened his back and carried his shoulders higher, raising his chin the slightest bit so he'd have to look down his nose in conversation. Then, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

Healers bustled about in the Infirmary, adjusting bed sheets, preparing hydration mixtures to pour down the sleeping zombies' throats.

"Can I help you?" an orc priestess asked.

"I'm looking for Ravine."

"Ah, so you're the one she requested." She nodded her head over a shoulder. "In the back. Troll. You can't miss her."

Rowan walked to the back of the large room, keeping his eyes straight ahead to avoid looking at the unconscious zombies.

He found Ravine sitting at a small table behind a curtain, writing notes in the same impeccable handwriting as the message he received.

She looked up at his approach. Heavy bags were sunk below her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in days. "Prince Rowan. I did not expect you so quickly. Thank you for coming." Her troll accent was thick.

"What can I do for you, Shaman Ravine?"

"Straight to business, then. Very well." She opened a drawer from the table and removed a smooth white stone that fit snuggly in the palm of her hand. She placed it on the table. A question mark was engraved in the center. "You know what this is, yes?"

"A Quest Stone."

She's assigning me a quest? That was not what he was expecting. Even Uthen hadn't been given a Quest Stone this fast. He actually couldn't think of anyone who'd been tasked as a quest giver for their first assignment.

So, what's the catch?

"Good. That saves me an explanation." She continued writing on the paper. "I was just finishing up the quest assignment. If you will give me a moment or two."

Rowan stood there awkwardly, trying not to fidget as he waited. His eyes wandered, despite himself, and landed on a zombie laying on the nearest bed.

The Monster's breathing was shallow and slow, barely even noticeable. A section of his skull was missing.

It was hard to tell the zombies apart, but Rowan was fairly certain this was the one they'd bagged and tied up with the skeleton, bat, and slime.

"Sad thing, what happened to them," Ravine said without looking up.

"Are... Are they in pain?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from catching.

"It is difficult to know for sure. But they are healthy enough. For now. We have had to use flexroot reeds to feed mashed food and water to keep them nourished."

He watched a healer down the row of beds sliding a reed down another zombie's throat.

"Is there no magic that can help?"

"Unfortunately, no. There is something else though." She made a final mark on her paper, then sat up straighter. "There. All done."

Shaman Ravine cleared other miscellaneous items from her desk, then placed the Quest Stone atop the paper.

"You know the rite?"

Rowan shook his head.

"Place your hand on the stone."

He started to move his hand, then paused. "I'd like to read the assignment first."

The troll smiled with her eyes. "Of course." She moved the stone and handed him the paper.

She was definitely planning to bind this assignment to me without me even knowing what it was.

He read it carefully. The wording was fairly straightforward and understandable. There didn't seem to be anything nefarious about the quest aside from it being completely random.

"Flowers? Three hundred flowers?"

"You dislike flowers?"

"Flowers are fine. I just... I don't understand."

"I see. Let me explain." She pulled a tome from the floor and flipped to a page marked with a ribbon. "Endymion. A rare golden flower shaped of a star. When crushed into a poultice and applied on the chest and neck, endymion can be used to counteract long acting paralysis and sleep potions."

A pit formed in Rowan's stomach.

She knows. She knows I was involved. Somehow. Why else would she request me for this assignment? Literally anyone can ask Heroes to collect flowers.

"You understand now?"

Rowan choked back his shock. He knew this was a possibility as soon as he read the message. Somehow it still shook him. "A cure for the zombies," he said, trying to sound as formal as he could.

Ravine nodded. "They say you are a smart one."

"In the World of Hysterium?" He'd heard of it before, but only because of his childhood education on the different Worlds. No one went to Hysterium—no one of note, at least. It was a backwater canyon World. Some said that people got lost in the labyrinth canyons, despite the guidance of waypoints. Even Heroes didn't frequent it that often. This was going to be a painfully long quest.

"Are there no other Worlds with this flower?"

"There are," Ravine said. "But your Level is too low to send to the areas where these flowers grow in the other Worlds."

"Why me then?" he asked.

Say it. Accuse the prince of humans of poisoning the Monsters. I dare you.

The troll healer sighed. "I am offering you an opportunity to be the youngest quest giver ever. Are you refusing this honor?"

He didn't say anything. She had this all planned out. It was genius. Cruel. But genius. She's made it so I'd be an idiot to reject. He was impressed, if annoyed.

"Let me say this to you, young prince. You are royalty. A leader, whether you or anyone else likes it. And two kinds of leaders exist in this life. Those who reign with strict tyranny, claiming glory and deflecting defeat upon others. They lead for self.

"And then there are those who claim the responsibility for those around them. Who take the blame upon failure. Who aid those who cannot aid themselves. They lead for others." She stretched a hand toward the sleeping zombies. "I'm curious. Which are you, Rowan Regicast?"

He placed the paper with the assignment back on Ravines desk, took the Quest Stone from her, and placed it on top. His hand remained cupped over the stone. "Give me the quest."

Ravine smiled. "Very well."

Whatever nonsense she spewed about royalty and responsibility—it didn't matter. She'd boxed him into a corner and forced him to take the assignment. He'd do it.

Osiris and Garo, you gnoll shits. I'm making you come with me.

The shaman placed her hand over his, her long blue fingers surprisingly soft and gentle—almost motherly. She held her staff above their joined hands and chanted a few words. A yellow glow radiated from between his fingers coming from the engraving on the stone.

Then it was done.

Rowan took the Quest Stone and put it in his bag. He turned and walked away without a word.

"Goodbye, Rowan Regicast," Ravine said.

He didn't look back.

He didn't know how long this assignment was going to take. He didn't know why she'd picked him to torment instead of Osiris or Garo. He didn't know how she'd pieced it all together so quickly.

He only knew one thing for certain...

The damn slime talked.

* * *

Ravine watched the prince leave as she slumped back in her chair.

Poor boy. He's likely to get himself ripped in two if we are not careful. She could sense the emotions warring within him, whether he acknowledged it or not. Responsibility, expectation, and heart. Which side would win?

It was rarely the heart.

She didn't pity the royalty. She did pity him, though.

If there was another way... But there wasn't. Things had long been in motion. His involvement in the poisoning had only expedited things that were bound to happen.

It had been simple enough to trace the poisoning back to the food at the feast after the young skeleton's accusations.

She'd had Alchemist Ophelia isolate the added ingredients from leftover waste the animals hadn't yet gotten to. They'd compared that to a zoop sample she'd scraped from inside a zombie's decaying anus.

Not the most pleasant task, but a necessary one.

The obvious culprit was one of the Academy kitchen staff, but she'd spoken to them all without any hint of foul play. Several had mentioned a young human male who'd made an appearance in the kitchens claiming to be lost.

She'd traced that back to Osiris, the castle cook's son in New Valour.

Normally, she'd have alerted someone and had the boy punished formally. But this particular student, she'd learned, was practically joined at this hip with Rowan Regicast. If he was up to something, it meant the prince was likely involved as well.

If she started digging there it'd likely end with her dismissal.

And her responsibility was too important for that.

It was a moral tradeoff. So she'd decided to hand out justice her own way—the way she knew best.

Subtle guilt and lessons learned.

She just prayed to the Creator he was moldable.

It was the only hope.