Chapter 2: An Issue of Political Economics
Landar
I stared at the registration sheet in my hand and glared down at the still lightly glowing line at the bottom. It had been magically inscribed. I could, of course, cleanse the sheet of the mana in the ink. But that would just leave the ink in place.
No, the class was now listed, permanently, on the paper.
For a moment I thought about returning to my room and writing another registration sheet out of the paper and ink from the small writing desk I had there. But I thought better of it. That would just be me being stubborn.
In all honesty, the class might actually be good for me. I just don’t like the idea of other people making those choices for me.
“You’re glaring at that piece of paper like it insulted our ancestors, son. What's wrong?” Tomas asked from where he walked next to me. We had emerged from the tunnels that connected the elevated plateau that the school and tower rested on, with the rest of the city. Both lower, and upper parts of the city were, technically, at a lower elevation than both the school and the tower.
The plateau was hardened stone. As if someone had found a mountain, stolen its bottom quarter, and brought it here to act as the foundation for the tower. What I had originally thought were cobblestones, was actually a single relief carved into the plateau to provide rivulets for storm run off, and traction for those out in bad weather. Everything I saw here I had come to realize over the last few days was carved from the same solid stone facade.
“Nothings wrong. I just . . . don’t like people making decisions for me. That’s all.”
“You could always tell the registrar you don’t actually want to take that class. Or scratch it out with an ink pen or something. It's not like Ezekail made the decision for you.”
“Yeah I know. And I'm considering doing just that. But . . . from what he said about the class, it sounds like it might be a good fit.”
Tomas grinned.
“So you're fighting your stubborn streak huh? Don’t want to do it because someone else tried to make you, but think you probably agree with them you should do it? Your mother has the same problem.” He laughed, and it brought a smile to my face too.
“You know, she once came up with this whole idea about the sewers under the tenements. Well, the Merchant representative, Hadish Kordman had the same idea and assumed she would support it without asking her. She nearly voted it down just to spite him.”
“I take it she doesn’t really like this Hadish character?”
“That's the funniest part. He’s been a friend of the family for a few years now,” Tomas smiled and chuckled to himself. “I had to talk her out of working against herself several times. Why do you think I don’t tell your mother to do anything? I ask. Never tell. Learned that lesson the first time I met her. And it's only become more important the last few years.”
He went on continuing telling stories about how my mother, the consummately practical woman, nearly sabotaged herself with her stubbornness.
“They call me stubborn as an ox in my command sometimes,” he said as we came up to the double doors of the academy's administration building. A two story box of a building made of pure stone. It looked as uninviting as it did utilitarian. “But your mother puts me to shame.”
The doors shut behind us, and we found ourselves in the main entrance hall of the admin building. A sign hung on one wall that showed a map of the building, with rooms and offices carefully labeled in simple script. After a few seconds of searching I found the registrar’s office, and started down that direction.
“I always envisioned mother as the seriously practical type.” I said, as our steps echoed oddly in the stone hallway.
“She is, just . . . not when people try to tell her things. Before the . . . well, before you left. She was a lot more circumspect about challenging unfair or simple minded orders. Finding ways around them to accomplish her goals and purposes. Now however? Well . . .”
We came to the door we were looking for. “When she thought you had died? Her spine went from stone to steel. Here’s where I leave you son. I have to go get some work done increasing patrols outside the city and I'm already going to be late for a meeting with the adventurers guild. I love you.”
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“I love you too,” I said as he pulled me into a hug. I returned it with a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, father.”
He released me and grinned like the young if intimidating guard captain I had first met in this world. “It wasn't anything. I just walked you here.”
“You shared stories of Mother. Stories I haven’t heard before. Not to mention you invited me to the training day with Ezekial.”
“Yeah well . . . Be good, boy. Don’t cause any trouble, or I'll hear about it.” With that he left, moving at an almost leisurely pace. As if the meeting he was late for didn’t matter all that much in the long run.
I turned, opened the door, and walked into the registrar's office.
***
“What do you mean I don’t have enough money? Aren’t I here on a full ride scholarship?”
“Full ride? I’m not familiar with that term,” the aged woman sitting behind the desk said. She was hunched over her desk, a feather quill easily the size of her head in one hand. Her hat pushed back to allow the quill free movement, but it was broad and what I would have considered extremely stereotypical of a witch.
In fact, everything about the woman screamed “I’m a witch” down to the warts on her nose, and the magically glowing wand in her non-writing hand that was even now sorting papers and scrolls behind her while she stared into my soul.
Judging my poverty.
“Don’t try to confuse this old witch with strange new terms. Full ride, Steel, enchantment, human rights?! Bah! What do they mean anyway? Back in my day, the only ‘Rights’ that existed were the ones you could take at the tip of your wand or sword. Why, I remember a time there was this fae beast, who fancied himself some kind of king. Took a bunch of children as slaves into his realm, and their parents paid me a pretty little sum of coins to go save them. Laid his little ‘realm’ in the fae wild to ruin, sent his little scorpion spirits, and beetle riding brownies into the abyss with this beauty.”
She looked at her wand lovingly. “While he was begging for the ‘right of ransom’ or some such, his parents were some high up muckety-mucks in the summer court. I broke his slave's chains and let them have their way with him.”
She laughed in such an evil way, it sent shivers of instinctive terror down my spine. After a moment she stopped, realizing she had gone off the topic. “Right, what were we talking about? That’s right, your abject poverty. You're a poor kid. Too poor to add a fourth class like this.”
“Alright but I don’t understand. I thought my tuition was entirely paid for. No?”
“Ah, I see no one told you how things work around here.” She glared out the window to her right. I was sure it had to be magical because it showed the silver tower outside, and the region’s royal palace looming behind it in the distance. Not only was it not showing the room next door, which is what the window should have been displaying. But it was also showing a scene from an angel that was impossible from inside the administration building.
“Listen closely, because I'm not repeating this kid. Your new grandpa gives you three thousand gold a quarter-year. You take out eight hundred gold for a full time tuition, that allows you to take up to three full courses, or six partial courses, or any mix of those together. The course you want, the one taught by the Principle of this academy? It's a full course. As are the other three you’ve selected. It’ll cost you an additional two hundred gold per month per full time course. Seeing as the stipend he gives us also covers the 100 gold coin per month food stipend, and the 100 gold coin per month living quarters stipend for both you and any retainers you bring on board, that means . . .”
She stopped speaking and looked me right in the eyes, waiting for me to say it. I sighed. “It means I'm broke.”
“Exactly.”
“So I need more money. . . “ my mind was already reeling, trying to come up with options. Quick.
“Yeah. Well . . . yes and no. You can take out an institutional loan. If you like. You can take one up to eight hundred gold per quarter-year.”
Student loans?! No, no, no no no no no! I had to take a deep breath to calm the nerves that had instantly gone into full alert.
“Hey kid. You look sick, do you need to sit down?” She asked, her voice filled for the first time with legitimate concern. Even if it was mixed with a good dose of annoyance.
“No sorry, I just uh . . . didn’t expect for student loans . . . as an option.”
“Well they are. And you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Only a ghost of something I’ve seen destroy the lives of dozens of my friends back on Earth. No thank you. What I said instead was, “Thank you for the offer of the loan. But, I don’t think it's something I want to do. Is there any way I could get an extension on submitting my class selections?”
The witch glowered and for a moment I thought I'd end up like that fae prince. Screaming at the destruction of everything I had ever loved as it crumbled to dust around me only to be ripped apart by the now freed slaves I had kept out of sheer hubris.
Instead, she nodded.
“I don’t like it, but yes. I’ll grant you a three day extension. Only on account of the fact you asked nicely, and that I think this class is wise for everyone at this academy. I fought for it to be a mandatory course, but of course SOME professors screamed about humane treatment of students. Safety regulations, and the like. These new teachers, they coddle you kids too much these days. Why I remember when my master first introduced me to magic. She stripped me naked, and threw me in a viper pit. I still have the scars if you . . .”
I grabbed the slip of paper she had pulled out of her desk that said “extension exception” and had pushed across the table towards me, and then left as quickly as I could. “Thank you!” I said behind me.
All I heard in response was a loud, annoyed “Bah! Children these days. No respect.”