Raz had expected a battery of direct questions, perhaps a trip to an obstacle course or something. Instead, Sir Wekren pulled open a drawer in his desk, walked his fingers through the file-folders hanging within, and pulled out a fat sheaf of paper that didn’t look like it could have possibly fit in the flat folder it came from. He slapped it down on the desk and Raz read, “Venniran Standardized Educational Assessment, Knights Variant, 6270 Post-Ascension.”

Iskua’s tits.

It had to be a paper exam, didn’t it.

“I know,” Sir Wekren said. “Not very exciting, is it? But it will give us a good idea of where you’re at. It should only take you three or four hours.”

Raz didn’t say anything, but inwardly he sneered. He may not have cared much for tests, but he was still a scribe. It would not take hours.

He picked the test up off the desk and left the office, heading for the big table he had slid over earlier, slapped the test down on it, and conjured a pencil from thin air with a wave of his arm. One of his enhancements was a set of scribe’s tools, complete with a small magical library. The pencil wasn’t even real, but it wrote just fine as long as he refueled the toolset with some soot now and then. He paused as he was about to sit down, then walked over to the box of pastries and snatched a large scone out of it, dense and full of raisins. He walked back to the table, stuffing the scone in his mouth with one hand, sat down and flipped the test open with his free hand. As the scone disappeared into his mouth one bite at a time–it was delicious! He had to get the name of the bakery–he read down a list of subjects with a list of numbers next to each to indicate his familiarity with it, from one to ten. He marked them off quickly with the pencil, filled out a detailed description of his ongoing education, complete with names of his tutors, and flipped to the next page.

Ugh. Math.

Mostly multiple choice, some short form, and a few essay questions.

For the next ten minutes his pen flickered across the page as he dealt with harder and harder math problems until he ran into some particularly troubling accounting scenarios that he had no idea how to solve. Everything after that was beyond him, so he skipped to the next section.

It was linguistics. He was able to demonstrate that he had a complete grasp of High Trade, the official tongue of Takara, the main trade tongue of the northern hemisphere, and all around a very versatile tongue even used by poets, song writers, and novelists. However, of other languages he couldn’t recognize anything beyond some phrases in common pidgins. While he hadn’t cared before, it was depressing to actually face a test and find just how much there was he appeared not to know.

After that was cultural knowledge, which he had a fair bit of. It was impossible to live in Takara and NOT get some understanding of the main cultures that lived there. Who didn’t know that an Ork male of any of the main cultures always had to look strong in front of their women, but could negotiate quietly if only men were present? Or that most City Gnomes prized information on a new technology or manufacturing technique far beyond its cash value? Or that dwarves from almost all the major cultures had to invite a visitor from another land to dine with them if they didn’t already have plans, but that visitor had better bring something to add to the table unless they were starving, or else.

This was all common knowledge.

Though for most of the cultures that didn’t have a major presence in Takara, he had no clue. Most of the questions on major Elemental nations stumped him, and the only thing he knew about Gherkharg was that the kingdom was Draykin.

Once he stumbled through that with what he thought was a decent showing, it was onto history, which he thought he was pretty strong on. He couldn’t even imagine who wouldn’t be able to write something about the War of the Rabbit. Two of the original Powers had died in it! It was even more significant than the War of the Sea! He wasn’t sure what the Starnhold Revolt was or the Tembletay Empire, but he knew plenty about the goblin-run Republic of Nokriddan and its age of wonders. Also the War of Seven Queens which had ended it. Johadon had changed the rules to keep the Hive races from ever doing that again.

History moved to business, science, engineering, and economics, short sections with a number of questions checking for general knowledge and a few essay questions posing practical problems to solve. He knew a little bit about all of those, though his knowledge of engineering was limited to material strengths and a few design principles, stuff he had picked up laying the foundation for his tinker class.

Military practice and theory was next. Mostly practical questions. He knew only what he’d picked up from history. Fun guidelines such as to always choose the place of engagement, to maximize one’s own strengths and the enemy’s weaknesses, and to guard the supply lines. Also, to never make alliances with Demon nations and to never trust any of the Angeli nations to show up to help. Most of the questions involved tactics and small conflicts. A few full teams at most. He answered them with as much thought as he could and moved on.

The section after that was very interesting. All kinds of questions about running heists and cons, how to recognize and pick various locks, where to go in the city to get information, and so on. Again, most of them were practical questions that asked Raz to apply what he knew to accomplish a task, such as breaking into a warehouse without getting caught and locating a specific item that wouldn’t be listed on any manifests. He was pretty certain he flubbed most of the ones that had to do with conning people. It wasn’t his strong suit.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He was surprised when he answered the last question in that section and found nothing on the next page. When he looked up the light had changed to the rich gold of late afternoon and… about three hours had passed.

Raz sighed. The old Demon must have figured him for a scribe and estimated accordingly.

Raz stood up with the test and walked back into Sir Wekren’s office. The Frigidi pushed aside the papers he was working on and flipped through Raz’s test at a disturbing speed. He paused on one page, then continued to the end and looked up at Raz.

“I’ll have to take more time to fully grade this, but I can already tell you know a great deal for someone your age.” He chuckled. “You did make some serious mistakes in the combat section. You gave a very short description of how you’d get away from a squad of five Canian Mercenaries, oblivious to the fact that serious Canian soldiers never work in less than full ten-teams. The other five would have been waiting to run you down as soon as you ran.”

Raz grimaced and lashed his tail at that. It didn’t seem quite fair, as it wasn’t as if he’d ever been trained in combat tactics, beyond a little fencing. He still filed the fact about Canians away for future use.

“I’ll have your education plan ready by tomorrow and you can start your first lessons in the afternoon,” Sir Wekren continued. “Getting a dance instructor will take longer, and finding an actual battledancer willing to instruct you… mmm. I’ll have to call in some favors for that.”

He stared into space for a moment.

“I think I’ll set you up as apprentice to Sir Ferrivan. You’ll mostly be doing paperwork for him at first. He’s a human, but he knows just about everything there is to being a Dusk Knight. Knows Takara better than most locals, too.” He tapped the fingers of one hand on the desk then glanced at the picture windows in the outer office.

“I think that will be all for today. If Lord Vennir dragged you in here straight from whatever got you into that contract, then you will probably appreciate having the evening to yourself. Don’t worry about your luggage. I’ll have someone take it up to your room for you. Just ask at the front desk when you get back and they’ll get you a key.”

He gave Raz a direct look.

“I agree with Lord Vennir. You will find what we do here rewarding. I can see it in your answers. Wits look at the things people are willing to share. We find the things they aren’t, and learn the secrets within those secrets. You come from a merchant family, so you probably know at least ten ways of cheating with your accounting, but here you will learn forty more. As well as how to open the lock to the safe where the secret ledger is kept so you don’t have to ask.”

The Frigidi made a shooing gesture with his hands.

“Stay out as late as you like. Just be ready to start using your brain by noon.”

Raz nodded, then gave a sketchy half-bow and left the office. On his way out he grabbed another scone, this one full of cherries and nuts.

By the time he reached the front door of the tower and walked out into the warm air of a late summer afternoon, the scone was gone and he was still hungry. Raz pondered his options, quickly assembling a to-do list with food at the top. He had to do something about Avvin, even if he wouldn’t be returning to the gang. It wouldn’t sit well with him to leave that backstabbing asshole free to run through the city with the other boys of the Blue Street gang. He also had to offer thanks to Hanaweh somehow. The Creator was so mysterious that he still wasn’t sure what he had experienced wasn’t just coincidence, but he had asked for help. Better safe than sorry. There was an altar somewhere in the city, he knew that much.

Out toward the East wall?

He was pretty sure he’d heard it was tucked away in one of the worker districts over there. Someone that way would probably know. He could probably catch a bicycle rickshaw there and still have time to throw Avvin in the river before sunset. Maybe with a knife in him, maybe not.

But first, food. He looked along the streets of the Guild district, scanning the food stalls for something special. Hard days called for a treat, and this day had been extra hard. His stomach rumbled at him, telling him to hurry up, but he told it to shut it. He could only hold so much, and he wanted it all to be divine.

Finally he spotted a wheeled kitchen-cart with an unusually short proprietor. He couldn’t see the menu, but he knew a Hillkin chef when he saw one. That was about all he needed to know the food would be good.

Two minutes and one silver fang later he stood next to Hipki’s Sausage Shack and sank his fangs into Heaven. Hot juices dribbled down his chin and soaking the fur as he munched Tarref-bird sausage spiced with garlic, treepepper, and tart white wine. The fresh baked bread roll it was nestled into added to the explosion of flavor in his mouth, an effect that was completed by the caramelized onions slathered all over the top. He fought against a groan, then let it out without shame when he took the second bite.

No one would trust a Hillkin to guard a single garnet chip, but they did know food. Better than the elves, even. Of course, no one knew how to have a good time better than Catfolk, which was probably why Takara had one of the largest populations of Hillkin of any city outside of their own lands.

He was just going for a third bite, grateful that he had thought to buy two of the sausages as well as a mug of beer to wash it all down, when a powerful aura settled in around him and crushed his own into nothingness. The sensation quickly rose in intensity, filling his mind with the sound of a thousand pages turning in a vast library swept by the wind of unknowable stars.

Raz almost lost his balance, and did lose his hold on the tray with his food. The loaded tray made it halfway to the ground before he managed to catch it with both hands. He caught the sausage he’d been eating a moment later with the tray itself.

Safe.

Nissaya’s aura stared at him, unspeaking, but definitely judging, as he moved the tray to safety on one of the small tables Hipki had scattered around his shack. Raz felt the hairs on his back standing up under his shirt and he had his ears pinned back and his tail straight back and bristling. He had never been glared at by one of the Powers before, not that he was aware, but he was pretty sure that was what was happening.

After a minute of doing nothing while people passing by stared at him and Hipki watched from behind his griddle with wide eyes, the pressure lessened and he heard a distinct,

“Hmmph.”

Then he got a ping from his magic that something had appeared in his inventory and the System popped a message up in front of his face.

You have received a letter from Nissaya. It is marked “Urgent”.

Shit.