The next morning, all the newly designated cabals were woken up by their respective dwarf porters. As it turned out, Alfie, Will, and the other two members of their four-man team had been assigned Jollux, the rotund dwarf who had escorted them through the grounds from the wyrm.
The cabal’s other two members were James Howie and Teo Perotti. These two fellows turned out to be known to Alfie. At least on sight.
James Howie was the young, shy man whom Alfie had inadvertently elbowed in the unmentionables during the scrap on the wyrm.
“We’ve, ah, we’ve met,” James said to Alfie. “On the wyrm.”
“That’s right,” Alfie said. “Bit of an unconventional handshake, wasn’t it?”
James just laughed and stared at his feet until Alfie offered him a cup of faerie blood from the table they were standing beside.
James grinned and thanked him politely for the drink. He was a big young man, who looked capable of snapping Alfie’s arm like a twig had he the mind. However, as with many large people Alfie had met, it was obvious that James had an instinctively gentle nature and was rather quiet. His peaceable and reserved personality was one perfectly suited to an Enchanter, which was the specialty that James held. Alfie reckoned it might take a little while for the big man to come out of his shell, but they were off to a good start.
Teo Perotti, on the other hand, was so far out of his shell that he practically had one leg in everyone else’s.
Teo was the lanky, keen guy who had ultimately been knocked over by the elf on the wyrm when his lack of experience met and combined with his over-enthusiasm. The young man was long-limbed, with kind brown eyes and a shock of flyaway brown hair he was unable to tame. He had teeth so crooked he could have eaten a cob of corn through a picket fence but was always grinning, regardless of that fact. This made Alfie respect him all the more. The guy didn’t give two hoots what anyone else thought of him. All that mattered to him, seemingly, was doing right by his own set of beliefs and goals.
On chatting with him over a drink (or seven) the previous evening, Alfie had learned that he was a very passionate, but not cocky, Conjurer. All he wanted was to be the best, defend those who couldn’t defend themselves, and make the world a better place. He was, in actual fact, an idealist.
All in all, by the time Alfie flopped down onto his bed fully clothed, the start of some serious team building had begun.
Good thing, too, because this would be their first proper day as a cabal.
“Gentleman, if I might be so bold,” Jollux said that morning, “you look, to my expert eye, as if you had quite the night.”
Alfie laughed, then instantly regretted it when his head pulsed nauseatingly.
“I’m not sure if Provost Sharpe’s description of that faerie blood stuff giving you a tingle in the mouth was accurate,” Teo said, in his lilting Irish accent, “but it certainly makes your brain feel like it’s got goose pimples, doesn’t it?”
Alfie recalled that there had been plenty of faerie blood to go around—more than enough to break all but the thickest ice.
“Did you see when James fell off the back of the ale barrel and knocked that smug-faced bastard, Grant, into the bowl of hummus dip?” Will asked.
“Charles Grant? That’s the chap who ended up in the hummus?” James said quietly, his eyes wide.
“That’s right,” Teo affirmed.
“He’s a Grant?” James pressed.
Alfie gave him a blank look. “Apparently.”
James groaned but didn’t elaborate.
Alfie and the rest of his cabal followed Jollox down to the dining room. The two other cabals did the same. If the general lack of talk was anything to go by, almost every one of the first years was feeling a little jaded. Alfie, hoiwever, was in a good mood. He might have been hungover, but he doubted it was anything that a slap-up breakfast couldn’t fix.
Jollux stood aside and took up a patient position by the dining room door.
“I’ll be waiting to take you down to the cottage when you’re done, young masters,” he told them magnanimously.
Alfie wasn’t quite sure how comfortable he was with someone calling him ‘young master’. However, the smell of bacon hooked his nostrils at that point, and he found himself being towed over to a buffet-style table by the combined efforts of his nose, stomach, and hangover.
It was only after Alfie had stuffed the first forkful of steaming scrambled eggs and gorgeous smoked salmon into his mouth, and given an almost indecent moan of contentment, that he looked around.
Cornelius Sharpe was in attendance, as were most of the other teachers.
Schoolmen, Alfie reminded himself yet again. I’ve got to get into the habit of calling them schoolmen.
As he ate, Alfie scanned the schoolmen’s table and instantly recognized the ruggedly beguiling Kate Cutty dressed in her jeans, cowboy boots, and duster, with her hat hanging on the back of her chair. She was deep in conversation with a tall, arresting blond man with shrewd green eyes, who was dressed in a crisp white shirt under a black waistcoat.
Alfie applied himself to his breakfast, figuring that he was likely to need it. His head only came up twice before he was done—once when Teo asked him to pass the mustard, and the second time when Provost Sharpe asked for silence.
“Don’t despair, I’m not going to give you too much chin music this morning, I promise,” he said, white hair gleaming in the sunlight coming through the windows. “I simply wanted to say I’m glad you were the ones to choose to say, and I hope you continue to do so.”
On the table in front of Alfie, Charles Grant made some whispered, no doubt derogatory, remark. His cabal cronies sniggered. Alfie rolled his eyes and ate another mouthful of fried tomato.
“The world is a different place to when I was in your shoes, boots, heels, and other assorted footwear.” Sharpe pointed his raised arms toward the windows. “Out there is a world where everyone is far too enthusiastic to reward mediocrity. It is a world in which coming last will earn you a medal for participation. It is a world in which no one loses.” He paused, adjusted the red silk cravat he was wearing, and sighed.
“Not the rousing speech I was hoping for,” Will muttered.
Alfie elbowed him to be quiet.
When Sharpe looked up, his amber eyes were sad and hard.
“That is not the world we live in. We are not that free.”
Alfie was enraptured by the serious, almost somber tone of the provost. He looked around and saw that everyone else was, too, even the second and third years.
The only one who was not paying attention was Charles Grant. He was dicking about with a bread roll, looking bored.
Sharpe gave himself a little shake and looked up, suddenly beaming. “But that is why we train, so we might preserve the notion that there is true freedom in the outside world. Now, a quick rundown of what the first year at the Aetherbright Academy involves for those of us who are the newest and most hungover. Third and second years, you can toddle off and do whatever it is you’re doing. First years, may I introduce Schoolman Lenten Flay, the Aetherbright Academy’s very own accounting brain and the teacher of all things that you will learn in his class—the grandly named, Chronicles of the Extramundane.”
The second and third years went out noisily. After they had exited, the aforementioned Schoolman Flay got to his feet. This did not have the usual effect as it appeared the extremely rotund gentleman was roughly the same height sitting down as he was standing up. He had droopy basset hound eyes, a nose that looked like a red-veined potato, and bright orange hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was dressed in a pair of beige slacks and the kind of knitted jumper that gave blind grandmothers with knitting addictions a bad name.
“Now there,” Will said quietly, “is a man who looks like he loves a drink.”
“He looks more like he was squeezed out of a bartender’s cloth instead of born,” Alfie observed, watching as Schoolman Flay scratched at a stubbly cheek and peered around at the waiting pool of twelve Academy newcomers.
“Morning!” Schoolman Flay said, in a surprisingly cheerful and musical voice. “I won’t keep you long. Time is money, but talk is cheap as they say, so listen up!”
He put his hands behind his back—or as far around his spherical middle as he was able to—and said, “Not to beat around the bush, you three groups of first years will be in direct competition with each other during the year.”
This raised a few eyebrows amongst the cabals.
“Your lessons and, later on, mission results will be rewarded with a stipend—with real folding dosh. This is to simulate things as they would be in the real world, with bounties and rewards and so on,” Flay continued. “If you end up working for MI7, you will receive a monetary reward on top of your regular pay.”
“How about that, then!” Will whispered excitedly. “Have you ever heard of a school where you get paid to be there, mate? Get in!”
“Basically, the better you do in your lessons and the assignments you will be sent on, the more money you and your cabal will get,” Flay said, droning on in the manner of a man who has learned his spiel from rote. “This, in turn, gives you access to better gear and food—simple economics, you see?”
Will’s face fell as he turned to Alfie.
“We have to buy our own food?” he whispered.
Alfie shrugged.
“But… I can’t cook anything more complicated than a sandwich,” the former thief admitted.
“You don’t actually cook a sandwich unless it’s toasted.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Now, you will never be allowed to starve, obviously—not like the good old days,” Schoolman Flay said, “but the basic slop you’ll be given will only ensure you don’t fade away. Hunger is a simple, but very potent, motivator.”
“Doesn’t look like hunger has ever motivated that guy to do anything other than get type-two diabetes,” Grant quipped, barely bothering to keep his voice down.
“That guy is such a knob,” Francesca Bun said in a scathing voice made all the more disdainful by her naturally warm-sounding Cornish accent.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Schoolman Flay plowed on, apparently heedless of the whispered insults flying around.
“With this coin, you may or may not receive, you will also be able to upgrade your cottages, which you’ll be shown to in a moment by your dwarven porters,” Flay said. He stopped, mouth open, and looked down at Sharpe. “That’s it, I think.”
Provost Sharpe flowed smoothly to his feet. “A superb summary, Schoolman Flay. I thank you.”
Flay plopped back down into his seat and took a slurp from his orange juice.
“All this will be made clearer to you in due time,” Sharpe told them with his habitual flippancy. “For now, your porters—who will answer any questions you might have—will lead you to your new residences. Once you have settled in, they will collect you and take you to our training pitch.”
There was a muttering of surprise and consternation from the first years, but Sharpe waved it down. “Calm yourselves. It’s only a little demonstration from the second and third years. Schoolman Flay has told you now about how you will suffer minor privations if you do not excel in your training and learning. That was the stick. Hopefully, our older trainees will show you the carrot.”
Alfie and his cabal were led through the grounds by Jollux, their dwarf porter. After meandering through a series of fragrant flower and herb beds, they came to a small cottage.
The building was quintessentially English; the type of building that foreigners pictured in every village and town in England. It was so much like a stereotypical chocolate box cottage that Alfie had to stop and stare for a moment. It seemed in stark juxtaposition to the harsh training, grueling fighting, and extensive studying they might be expected to do.
“Now, gentlemen, here we are. This is, to all intents and purposes, your home from now until you leave the Aetherbright Academy,” Jollux said, stopping outside the green-painted front door. It was complete with little iron rivets and a small stained-glass window depicting a typical garden gnome fishing.
“Looks most comfortable,” James Howie said in his well-mannered, if quiet, way.
Jollux bowed his head. “I believe you will find the accommodations more than adequate, sir.”
James’ face went a delicate shade of pink, though whether he was blushing because he had just been called ‘sir’ or because it was his natural reaction to being addressed in general, Alfie wasn’t sure.
“If you will each take a moment to hold your key up to the stained-glass window,” Jollux said, “this will enable the cottage itself to recognize and log your magical essence. Once this has been done for all four of you, you will be able to rest easy knowing that the only ones able to enter this dwelling are your cabal—and myself, of course. Mr. Turner, if you would be so obliging…”
“Jollux, you’re going to have to stop with all the ‘sirs’ and ‘Mr. Turners’,” Alfie said. “Seriously, there’s no need for it. And if we’re calling you Jollux, it’s only natural that you use our first names, don’t you think?”
The dwarf looked quite taken aback by this.
“Don’t you think, fellas?” Alfie asked his three companions.
“Mr. Savage is my father,” Will said amiably, clapping the dwarf on one meaty shoulder. “At least, I assume he was. I never met the bastard.”
“No class or position distinction in this house,” Teo said.
“Howie is fine,” James muttered.
“I thought we were going with first na—?” Will began.
“My friends call me Howie,” Howie explained, blushing an even darker red than he had been before.
“There you have it, Jollux, the vote’s in,” Alfie said with a smile.
“Very good, sir—I mean, Alfie,” the dwarf replied. “Now, if you would be so good as to hold your key to the window…”
Alfie did as instructed, bringing out the key from the neck of his shirt. He held it up to the window, wondering how he’d know when—
The gnome that had been depicted fishing on the stained-glass window flung down his rod, stood up from the toadstool he’d been taking his ease on, and leaned forward.
“Newbie?” he asked in a grouchy little voice.
“Uh, yeah,” Alfie said weakly. “My name’s—”
“Don’t care,” the gnome said.
He sniffed a couple of times, stuck his tongue out like someone trying to catch rain on it, and then said, “Yeah, righto, guv, in you go.”
The door creaked open.
“Hinges need a bloody good oiling, Jollux,” the gnome said.
Alfie looked at Jollux. The dwarf gave him a long-suffering look and motioned for him to step into the hall beyond the front door.
“Next!” yelled the gnome rudely as Alfie stepped over the threshold.
Alfie waited until his three cabal members had been given the once over by the gnome in the window and allowed into the cottage. It was a pretty tight squeeze once they were all inside the hallway, especially with Howie’s towering bulk and Jollux’s almost ball-shaped body.
“Allow me to give you the tour, gentlemen,” the dwarf said, managing to squeeze by.
The cottage was, basically, how Alfie had expected it to look. There were low-beamed ceilings and exposed stone walls, which gave it a rustic and cozy feel. The floors were uneven, made of warped wooden boards that might have been laid centuries before, polished smooth by uncounted feet. The windows were mullioned and surprisingly large, allowing plenty of natural light to flood the rooms.
“The sitting room,” Jollux said, standing aside so that the four young men could take turns sticking their heads into the room.
It was a comfortable and relaxed space, west facing, with a hodgepodge of mismatched vintage furniture set around a hearth. There was a single bookshelf filled with dusty books and other artifacts that had a distinctly magical look to them.
“Best not to go fiddling with too many of those items, gentlemen,” Jollux said, catching sight of Will’s avaricious look. “I’ve not yet had time to sweep the place for any little amusing gifts the previous third years might have left you.”
“Amusing gifts?” Teo asked. “Like what?”
The dwarf flicked an invisible speck of dust from one velvet sleeve.
“Exploding toilets that propel the user out through the window and into the cottage’s private vegetable garden, Teo,” he said primly.
Will shoved his hands into his pockets.
The kitchen was a slightly more modern and functional space, with all the necessary appliances, countertops, and cabinetry that Alfie knew from home. There was a large, central island with a farmhouse sink and room for food preparation.
“The refrigerator is of standard design but has been magically enhanced so that any fresh produce kept within will never spoil,” Jollux said. “It can also store any kind of food and drink indefinitely, regardless of expiry dates, so long as it is not removed from the refrigerator for more than an hour at a time.”
Connected to the kitchen was a dining area with a scarred wooden table and a set of six wooden chairs. Above this, a chandelier hung. It was alight with beeswax tapers.
“The tapers are enchanted with a self-recycling spell,” Jollux said.
“What happens when we want to snuff them?” Alfie asked.
Jollux clapped his hands twice in quick succession. Instantly, the candles died, leaving only tendrils of smoke behind.
“A clapper,” Alfie said. “Classic.”
Jollux led them up the tight, wonky, creaking staircase after this. The bedrooms were simple but comfortable, with a double bed, a desk, a chest of drawers, and a wardrobe with a built-in mirror.
Alfie noticed signs of magical practice in the bedrooms: a purple stain that he imagined might have been a spilled potion, heavy claw marks adorning the leg of a heavy oaken bed, and a scorch mark that ran across most of one ceiling.
“I took the liberty of sizing each of you up,” Jollux said. “The seamstresses within the Academy have been hard at work all through the night. You will find a selection of hardy, no-nonsense clothes in your wardrobes.”
“And now, on to the most important room of all,” Will said, in his slickest real estate agent’s voice. “The crapper.”
The bathroom, Jollux told them, was equipped with arcane-powered amenities.
“The shower is of a recent and remarkable design,” the dwarf said. “It reacts to the stimuli provided by the user to adjust the temperature, pressure, and even the nozzle the water is expelled from.”
“You mean like when you get in without checking, and it’s bloody freezing, and you let out a screech like a cat that’s just been backed over, it’ll make it instantaneously warmer?” Teo asked.
“Precisely, sir,” Jollux said.
At a glance, Alfie noticed there were magical toiletries provided, including soaps and shampoos imbued with certain herbs, as well as a magical mirror that could, according to Jollux, show the gazer’s appearance from different angles, in different lighting, and even with different backgrounds.
“Poser’s delight, eh?” Alfie said, nudging Will, who hastily stopped fussing with his hair in the mirror.
Jolluk showed them their backyard and the vegetable garden already planted with various seedlings.
“Anything else we need to know about the place?” Teo asked the dwarf before he headed off.
Jollux snapped his stubby fingers.
“How remiss of me, yes there is,” he said. “The kitchen also comes with a self-cleaning oven charm, there are fairies who will make the beds and change the linen once a week while you are at your classes, and also water sprites that are employed to take care of your laundry requirements.”
Alfie looked around at the other three young men.
“Sounds like we’re in hog heaven, Jollux,” he said.
“Indeed, Alfie,” the dwarf replied. “I will point out though that while these magical conveniences are currently in place, they might be taken away, should you gentlemen fall behind in your training.”
“What more of an incentive to excel academically does a man need than having to do his own laundry?” Howie said quietly.
“You’re so medieval in your thinking, mate,” Will said, looking sadly at the big man. “This ain’t the fifties anymore. There’s no shame in a lad doing his own laundry.”
“I’ll allow you to acclimatize, pick bedrooms, and generally settle in, gentlemen,” Jollux said. “There is a selection of foodstuffs in the kitchen with which you will be able to make an adequate lunchtime repast. And then—”
“And then you’ll be back to take us by a warm and loving hand and lead us to this exhibition?” Alfie supplied.
This comment actually managed to wrangle a smile from the lips of the taciturn dwarf.
“Absolutely, sir,” Jollux said.
Alfie raised a warning finger. Jollux chuckled.
“Absolutely, Alfie,” he corrected himself. “Alfie?”
“Yes, Jollux?”
“If the occasional ‘sir’ slips out, try not to be too hard on me. It is the habit of a lifetime.”
“All right,” Alfie said good-naturedly, “but I’m still flat against the whole young master thing.”
Jollux bowed and gave him another small smile.
“Very good, gentlemen. I shall see you in a few hours.”
Jollux left via the garden gate, leaving Alfie, Will, Teo, and Howie to their own devices.
The first thing they did was choose their bedrooms. This did not take long as the bedrooms were near enough identical to make no difference. Alfie ended up with the bedchamber decorated with the edgy burn mark across the ceiling. He lay on his bed, testing out the mattress, which proved to be quite comfortable.
Staring at the scorch mark for a moment, he wondered what the hell had caused it. His thoughts were cut short, however, when text flickered across his vision.
Cabal Cottage Acquired!
Cabal’s Beginnings Quest Complete!
+55xp
Level up!
Earth Fortifier Level 3
Petrifying Gaze has reached Level 2
Choose from the following augmentations for Petrifying Gaze (Level 2):
1. Mana Boon: Successful Gaze leeches 10% of target’s mana and provides it to the user.
2. Efficacy Boon: Successful Gaze reduces target’s spell efficacy by 10% for five minutes and increases user’s spell efficacy for five minutes.
3. Lifeforce Boon: Successful Gaze also drains 5% of target’s lifeforce and grants a temporary attribute increase to user for five minutes.
Progress to Earth Fortifier Level 4: 15/1,000
+50 Cabal XP
Progress to Cabal Level 2: 50/2,000
Alfie spent a few moments looking over the three augmentations he could select for the Petrifying Gaze spell. It hadn’t worked as well as he might have liked during the fight with the elves, so a little boost to the spell’s efficacy could go a long way in any future tussles.
He chewed his lip as he considered what he might face in the future. He had no real idea, other than the potential for some amount of danger.
It can’t really be all that dangerous here, surely? he thought. The provost must have just been trying to scare off those potential students who didn’t have what it takes.
Alfie grinned. Yeah, that had to be it.
Before Alfie could make his choice, the letters faded, only to be replaced with a new notification.
This one was less interesting and more ominous.
Note on your cabal cottage:
If you or a member of your cabal is injured, being brought back to his cottage will accelerate your/their healing.
This includes knitting broken bones, minor to semi-severe lacerations, contusions, concussions, burns of both chemical and thaumaturgical origin, and the tearing brought on by the explosive evacuation of the bowels.
It does NOT include the reattachment of severed limbs, the replacing or relocation of liberated viscera, or the reanimation or repositioning of the major organs.
For anything as serious as that, please consult your nearest thaumaclinician.
Alfie didn’t much like this notification. What he liked even less was how it sounded like this sort of thing happened all the time.
“…Tearing brought on by the explosive evacuation of the bowels!” he heard Will yell in horror from his bedroom down the hall, illustrating that Alfie’s fellow cabal members seemed to have gotten the same notification. “I’m not a doctor, but that doesn’t sound good!”
Alfie couldn’t help but agree. With this clear indication of future dangers (and potential lacerations, contusions, and concussions), he decided on the second option: the Efficacy Boon. With this augmentation, his Petrifying Gaze spell would reduce his target’s spell efficacy by 10% for five minutes and increase his own spell efficacy for five minutes.
The lads spent the rest of their downtime settling in, wandering around the grounds, and visiting the stable block, which Alfie was astounded to see was being mucked out by a man who, on walking fully out from the barn door, turned out to be a centaur. Keeping an eye on the clock, and knowing they could expect to be summoned by the gong around midday, they cobbled together a simple lunch of cold meats, bread, cheese, and pickles, eating it outside.
Jollux materialized seemingly out of nowhere on the very first stroke of the unseen gong, which shivered through the ground like drops of molten brass. The cabal, with Alfie leading the way behind the dwarf porter, allowed themselves to be collected.
Hurrying along behind the portly dwarf like ducklings behind their dear old mother, they walked briskly around the main building of the academy. Looming out from around one of the wings of the manor itself, Alfie saw the stands of the practice pitch rising.
And, along with them, the sound of cheering.