“Very well. Lord Westerly, please begin.”
The old man clears his throat and the reaper on his shoulders moves, flowing off his shoulders gracefully to curl inside his lap, flickering in and out of view. “Firstly, do you understand how the Summoning Hall works, girl?”
“The bare minimum.” When I go to the Hall, it isn’t too converse. The only other summoner I speak to at all is Kristoff, simply because he works the front desk of the library. A few others who frequent the library may exchange greetings but they are in too much of a hurry to sit and chat.
“Hmph. Let me enlighten you.” He sniffs. “Unlike the other Halls, we don’t have classes. As you should know, summoning is an individualistic art. There are general courses for the ignorant but every summoner is allowed to go about their work as they see fit.”
I nod in understanding. As it should be.
“That also means that they are responsible for securing their own resources. The Grand Summoner, the head of the Summoning Hall, has the authority to allocate some of the Hall’s resources but only to projects he wants to sponsor.”
Which means summoners that support him, I suppose. This must be what Miss Alyssa warned me about.
“New summoners find it difficult securing enough resources to fund their own projects their first years as acolytes. As such, it’s normal for them to apprentice themselves to a more senior summoner, working for resources and to build their own reputation in the Hall. Your father did the same, heh. Little brat hated every minute of it.”
“He told me of his apprenticeship.”
“Hah! That’s a surprise. He hated being embarrassed most of all. I remember the chaos at the Hall when he first proposed that Zero Affinity Theory of his. Everything’s wrong until it’s proven right and there were boys lining up to take him down a peg or two. He must have fought a dozen duels defending his fledgling theory, though he couldn’t throw a decent punch for all the crowns in the kingdom. Boy hit like a Featherfoot from Billowing Dream Realm, hah!”
I hold back a snicker. Billowing Dream realm is a water realm with no landmasses and a sky of endless clouds. The constantly turbulent waters are supposedly full of abominations feared by all planewalkers but above the clouds is a paradise of soft, friendly creatures. One of the most notable is a Featherfoot, something that resembles a very plump rabbit with small, feathery wings on its back. It’s about as threatening as a puppy without claws.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Aurelius ‘politely’ clears his throat. “Lord Westerly, if you could proceed? There are other interviews I need to attend today.”
“Hmph. Young ones are always in a rush. Very well.” He clears his throat. “Do you plan to be an independent summoner or work in an established team?”
“Independent.”
“Heh. They all say that. Fine, fine. Are you in it for research or…practical application?” In his lap, the reaper stirred.
“Every decent summoner is in it for the research.” A summoner who doesn’t document is a summoner who doesn’t care. “However, I lean toward practical application as you put it. Elementals aren’t showpieces.”
“No, they are not.” He smiles, revealing suspiciously good teeth for a man his age, especially given the rest of his appearance. “What realm are you planning on sticking your mitts in? I’ve heard rumors you dabble with the succubi but I won’t believe a Tome plans on throwing their lot in with the Grimoires.”
“That…is a secret.”
The old man jerks at my words. Slowly, his spine straightens and his eyes narrow, giving him a presence he lacked. The reaper on his lap stirs again, its ethereal body flickering in and out of view as it flexes its fins, swimming through the air. Our gazes lock, neither of us giving the other an inch.
“I’ve known many summoners with ‘secrets’. Their secrets tend to be dangerous for themselves and others.”
“Sounds more like fools than summoners.”
“Don’t underestimate elementals, girl. They are powerful and cunning. If they accept a contract, it is because they have agendas, some of which we can never understand. Some very dangerous. There are creatures that should never touch this realm.”
Who does this man think he is speaking too? What does he know about powerful elementals? I watched a god walk into this realm. A creature with a coefficient of a thousand that could single-handedly bring this country to ruin if let off her leash makes me breakfast every morning.
“The only thing dangerous in summoning is a lack of information. I could argue your little fishie is one of those elementals that should never touch this realm. The devastation it could unleash if not properly managed is unimaginable but there it is.” I gesture towards it for emphasis.
“Protecting myself is my own responsibility.” If I were still human, guaranteeing I can take care of myself no matter what I summon is pure hubris. No matter how many precautions a summoner takes, if they stray outside the established paths of their predecessors, they always take the chance of running into something that can melt their minds at a glance. My family’s art can be dangerous. Risking your life to secure a better contract or obtain new knowledge is a given. A summoner only has one responsibility when it comes to inviting guests to our realm.
“I’m not stupid enough to invite a calamity into our midst and that’s all you and the Hall need to be concerned about.”
We hold each other’s gazes for several more moments. Lord Westerly is the first to break, huffing as he looks away. He gestures with a hand and the reaper lands on his shoulder, its visible tail curling around his neck loosely. “Spoken like a true summoner. Pray to the saints something doesn’t slurp your brain from your ears before you have a chance to live up to that Tome pride, Luke’s girl.”
“Here’s hoping,” I say drily.