As I stepped off the wooden carriage, a gust of cold air stung my cheeks, and I felt my body freeze. I shivered and wished I could crawl back inside the warmth of the carriage.
“Slow steady breaths,” the cattleman said, his arms forcing me to stand up straight before he went to check on the other two, where he repeated the instructions. “It will take time, but you will get used to the atmosphere. I hadn’t looked out of the carriage much during the half hour long trip so I had no idea where we were, except that it must have been high up.
It took me a couple minutes to get my breathing under control, but poor Esteban’s wheeze increased in volume and frequency, so much so that it made me worry for his well-being.
I took a moment to look around. At some point we passed through a large gate house into a stone courtyard that was more function than form. Half a dozen metres away was the silhouette of a very large building. And directly ahead of us were a pair of large double doors.
“This way,” the cattleman said, leading us along a path toward the side of the building and down a flight of stairs.
“What about the doors?” Esteban asked, wheezing heavily as he tried to keep up.
“Too cold,” the cattleman answered, stopping in front of a much smaller, less grand door. He opened the door and ordered, “In.”
I would have liked to explore more but it was just too cold. I entered and Al and Esteban followed just as quickly.
Through the basement door was a short hallway that connected to a long hallway lit by a line of lanterns hung from the ceiling. Wooden doors with brass knobs, freshly polished and smelling of citrus, probably by the maid or some other servant, lined both sides of the passageway. The walls were adorned with paintings and carvings, each a different oil or watercolour of the same scene. A kin standing in a doorway of a long hallway.
Even with my glasses on, I couldn't see the end of the hallway, but from the way the sound echoed down its length, I guessed it was at least a hundred metres long, if not longer.
“Follow,” the cattleman ordered, shouldering past the three of us to lead the way down the hallway.
The hallway was indeed just about one hundred metres long. At its end were stairs leading up. Poor Esteban panted with every step and his face was as red as a tomato. His hands gripped the railing as if his life depended on it, while Al kindly offered words of encouragement and assistance. I may have given him some harsh encouragement that could have come off as a little mean, but my cover demanded the sarcastic remarks that barely disguised my feigned disdain for the situation. Thankfully, the stairs went no higher than the seventh floor where we left the stairwell and entered a room with chairs and couches and a desk with a young owlwoman sitting behind it. To the right and left behind her there were closed doorways.
The owlwoman looked up, looking slightly surprised to see us then smiled kindly at the cattleman, “Thank you for escorting them, Beau. You can wait here or down with the carriage. I’m afraid it will be a while before we are done with them.”
The cattleman, Beau, nodded and moved to a chair in the corner where he sat down, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
The owlwoman turned her gaze from the cattleman to us. “Welcome young kin. Please have a seat, the dean will be with each of you shortly.”
Al guided Esteban to a pair of chairs, clearly excluding me from joining them. I can admit, it hurt a little to be excluded like that, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t dealt with before. I found an open chair as far from them as I could, huffing and making my displeasure known in the process, not that either of them paid me any mind. I sat and crossed my arms.
The door on the right behind the owlwoman opened suddenly and an elderly goatwoman appeared for a moment to look over the room, looking at each of us in turn. Then she called out, “Esteban Perrodino.”
Esteban looked slightly crestfallen at being the first to be called in, especially after he’d just sat down. Slowly, he stood and wheezed, “Ma’am.”
“Come with me,” the goatwoman said, motioning for the smaller dogboy to enter.
Esteban wiped his hands on his waist where I knew he usually wore an apron, a sign of nervousness. He entered the room and the door closed gently behind him. I worried for my friend, though I did everything I could not to let it show.
As soon as the door closed, I strained my ears, trying to hear what was happening on the other side of the door. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear a thing. It was a strange experience for me as there was very little that had ever stopped me from hearing something within a hundred metres, even through doors and walls. It was a novel, if disquieting, experience.
I wanted to ask the owlwoman if it would be long, but I didn’t want to sound whiny. I was sure she had plenty of others like us that needed to go through whatever this evaluation was.
I looked to Al to see he’d taken a note from Beau and leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. I was struggling with the thought that I was the impatient one in the room.
Patience had never been a weakness for me. Being a pickpocket on the streets of Puerto Mandda required it. And yet, time passed far too slowly. I was being impatient, making the wait worse, but I wanted to know what happened in that room. Finally, after an hour, the door opened and a smiling Esteban emerged. He didn’t carry anything out with him that suggested the results were written down.
I wanted to go ask Esteban what he found out but I was immediately called in, “Burion Belov.”
I stood tall, straightened my clothes, and entered the room as ordered by the goatwoman.
I entered what I assumed was the dean’s office. I would love to say I thought the view was amazing from the large windows but I couldn’t see enough except to know we really were far up the mountain and that it had started snowing outside. Bookshelves lined the walls to the left and right and a desk sat in front of the windows with a large leather cushioned chair behind it. There were two chairs in front of the desk, neither of which looked as comfortable as the chair behind the desk. Remembering my background, I stood at attention in front of the desk and waited for the goatwoman to speak.
Except she didn’t speak, she moved slowly and sat in the chair behind the desk where she just stared at me. I wasn’t sure if she was testing me, waiting for me to speak first, or waiting for a specific amount of time before speaking. I remained silent and at attention.
Minutes passed in silence before the goatwoman spoke, “You’re good. Your master should be quite pleased.”
I didn’t like her opening statement. It suggested she knew something about me that should have been nearly impossible to know. I remained silent.
She laughed lightly after another minute of silence. “Yes, you are very good. Unfortunately for you, before these old eyes, everything you are is laid bare before me. It has been a long time since a Shadow Agent, let alone an Apprentice Shadow Agent, has graced this Academy. I assume you are here for the Hero waiting outside of this room.”
My stomach dropped as I realised what was going on. My mind was racing, trying to figure out how she could know my secret. Could the Agency have been infiltrated? Was my Handler safe? Just then, I noticed the only exit was the window, far below me. There was no way I could make it, but at least it gave me an escape route.
“Calm down, calm down, Don’t worry, you and your master’s secrets are safe with me, assuming you are not here to harm the Hero.” The goatwoman sighed and explained, “I use Analysis magic, an obscure branch of Mind Attunement and Manipulation. Your status, your skills, and your Job are all easily visible to someone like me. More importantly, are you here to harm my academy or the Hero?”
I wasn’t sure if I should answer, but then her eyes glowed silver and my mouth worked against me, “I have no intention of doing the academy or the hero harm.”
The glow in her eyes faded and I jerked back. I had experienced something like that once before. The first time I met my Handler, his eyes glowed like that. It was like he was able to compel me to speak even if I didn’t want to.
“What was that?” I asked, the tone of my voice bordering on demanding.
“Mind Manipulation,” she answered. “A minor compulsion to answer my question. And yes, I could have done much more than that, but there would have been a risk of causing permanent injury to your mind, and we certainly don’t want that.”
I was still processing that she was able to force me to answer when she dropped that last bit of knowledge. I thought, perhaps, I would have preferred to do without ever knowing that was possible.
She sighed, “With time and practise, I am certain your master will have you gain a Mind Attunement, if for nothing more than to defend yourself from kin like me. Be grateful there are not many Mind Grand Masters in the world. Be more grateful that I am not without scruples.”
I could feel my heart racing and my palms sweating as I took a step closer towards the old goatwoman. Her eyes were piercing and I couldn't help but feel the same way I had the first time meeting my Handler. The feeling was overwhelming; was it fear or something else? I couldn't quite place it, but I knew that no matter what, I wasn't ready for whatever she was about to tell me.
“Good, you seem to understand you should be afraid of me. That will make things easier. Most badger-folk aren’t smart enough to recognize when they should be, your folks Fearless boon often makes them stupid. It gives me hope that I can trust you without tearing through your mind and memories. In other words, I expect you to not step a single toe out of line. If anyone mysteriously disappears,” she paused to cast her eyes to the door then back to me, “then you will be my first stop, understood?”
I swallowed thickly, struggling due to my mouth having suddenly gone dry. I nodded.
She nodded as well, “Now, as to your master, I assume he’s here somewhere? I could compel you to tell me who it is, but I kind of like the mystery. It will give me some fun this year as I try to figure out who it is.”
I nodded again. I was glad she didn’t force that information out of me. I knew she could, and that she didn’t, gave some credence to her promise not to tear through my mind doing untold damage in the process.
“Good,” she said with a friendly, pleased smile. “As long as you understand, the Royal Mancer Academy is happy to welcome you to its hallowed halls of learning and advancement.”
Stolen novel; please report.
I nodded, not sure what else to say or do.
The dean glanced over to a clock on the wall and smiled again. “That went much faster than I thought it might. Good. It gives us more time to go over your evaluation. Please, have a seat.”
Feeling a little better to be on to a topic that was far more interesting, I sat in the chair she motioned to and asked, “Do I need to do something?”
She shook her head, “No, my Analysis has been running since you walked in the door, it should finish the deeper analysis soon enough.”
“Deeper analysis?” I asked, wondering if there was more she could find out about me than what my status and skills displayed.
The old goatwoman laughed and nodded, “Indeed. The first layer of my Analysis skill tells me your name, Job, and status ranks. The second layer digs into your skills and skill ranks. The third layer, and the one that takes the longest to complete, finds your potential.”
“So . . . you can tell me what I’m actually talented in?” I asked, intrigued and excited. Most people just guess at their talents based on how quickly they learn a skill and how quickly they advance that skill and even then, mostly kin just suspected where their talents lay.
She nodded, “Indeed I can. Now, I will not be telling you if you have a talent in something we consider evil in nature or dangerous to you or the student body. For example, if you have a talent for Apocalypse magic, not only will I not tell you about it, but I’m likely to kill you now to save the world later. But that is an extreme case. Usually it's just things like Seduction and Charm talent that get withheld.”
I completely understood the Apocalypse magic issue. I wouldn’t want someone walking around with that talent either. “Is there anything in my current list that you consider . . . unwelcome?”
The goatwoman snorted, “You should know full well I don’t care for the Pickpocketing, Lockpicking, or Espionage skills. It’s fine, just don’t practise them where anyone can see and especially don’t use them against the academy. If things start to go missing from locked rooms or pockets, I have a list of students I’ll be checking with first and I promise, you’ll be near the top of that list, understood?”
I nodded. I had no intention of stealing anything from anyone . . . related to the Academy. Everyone else was fair game as far as I was concerned.
She narrowed her eyes at me before continuing, “Your Bleed skill is slightly concerning. If you don’t mind me asking, where did you pick that up?”
I was sure she just wanted to make sure I was not bleeding random kin. “In a lair, it was before I even had my first Job Day.”
“Already cleared a lair, well, you are impressive,” the dean said, looking me up and down.
I felt some relief and some confusion. I wanted to be sure though as her comment made me furrow my brows, “Can’t you see my Achievements?”
She shook her head and sighed. “Unfortunately, no. I can’t tell you how much that annoys me. I’m sure you’ve heard so many things about how Job options are decided. Skills, talents, and stats are what most believe determine your Job options. I believe that Achievements are the fourth piece of that puzzle. Take the Hero job as an example. No one, not one person has ever been able to figure how someone gets that Job. Believe me, every Hero throughout recorded history has been studied, looking for any commonality in skills, talents and stats and not one has been consistent. Divine Attunement has been common, but not in every Hero. Life and Death came once and she founded the nation of Rychania after defeating a corrupted god of light. Bocan the Volcano held the Job Barbarian for almost fifty years before he suddenly became a Hero. Legend says he made a promise to a god and the god granted him the Job. Of course, we cannot confirm that. He had Fire and Earth Attunements, which when combined gave him terrible power. He was horrible, even borderline evil, raping and pillaging villages, but he stopped the Serpent God from rising, didn’t he? The only thing I can assume is that the missing element is an achievement. But there hasn’t been a Hero since before I was born to ask about it. I’m hoping young Mister Romano will indulge me. I dare not try to pry it out of his mind lest I cause injury to the vaunted Hero.” She finally scoffed in disgust. “Anyway, no, I cannot see Achievements. I assume you have at least two, yes?”
I nodded, mentally pulling up my achievements. All three were there, though I had no intention of even mentioning the third. It seemed like anything related to Heroes could be problematic
Achievements
Provisional Spire Defeated - Improved Harvesting and Butchering
Wandering Lair Defeated I - Plus 5% Perception, plus 5% Willpower, and plus 10% Constitution
The Unsung - You have journeyed far, and your actions have saved many lives, though your name will never be known to them. You possess a Heroic Presence.
On the other hand, I had the perfect opportunity to ask questions about my first two achievements. The percentage was difficult to understand given my stats all used ranks. But seeing as I had an expert right in front of me. “What does it mean ‘plus 5% Perception’?”
“Ooh, so it was a Wandering Lair you defeated. Those are very rare and hard to clear, especially if it was before you even had your first Job Day. Fixed lair bonuses are considerably less, but you’ll learn more about that as the year progresses,” she nodded then waved a hand dismissing something, “Sorry, you asked what it meant. It means that your Perception, no matter what rank it is, is that much more effective. For example, your Perception is ranked at Moderate but is really more like Moderate plus. It’s a minor boost to the stat. However, if you somehow manage to get enough achievements to boost it to 100%, which is pretty much impossible, your Perception would operate as if it was ranked as Good. In other words, you might see a little more detail than someone with the same Perception rank but it will be minor at best.”
“Couldn’t I just defeat twenty Wandering Lairs to get to 100%?” I asked.
The dean laughed. “Ha, if only it were that easy. You get rank one after one Wandering Lair. Rank two requires you defeat two more lairs. Rank three, four additional lairs, and so on and so forth. Each rank requires twice as many lairs as the previous rank. And it must be a different Wandering Lair each time. You defeated one and if you find another, there is a chance it will be the same Wandering Lair, hence why they are called Wandering. It takes a lot of time and effort to track down Wandering Lairs, and your Job isn’t exactly ideal for that life.”
I frowned, disappointed to hear that. There was still so much I didn’t know about the world. It was obvious to me that my education was severely lacking in certain areas. As much as I studied recently under my Handler’s direction, there was basic knowledge I was lacking and it was clear this wasn’t a priority for him. Although, he did plan for us to train for a couple years before ever going on a mission. Maybe he just hadn’t gotten to that yet.
“Any other questions about your current skills?” the dean asked, moving on from Achievements and the limitations of her Analysis skill.
I had plenty of questions but knew I would have better questions once her Analysis finished. “I can wait until your Analysis is done.”
The goatwoman smiled and leaned back in her seat. “Do you mind if I ask you a question about your mission here? I assume your master is here to protect him from outside threats, but what is your role?”
I considered answering for a minute, trying to decide if it would hurt for her to know or if it was an unnecessary risk. I decided it couldn’t hurt, so I told her. “I’m to be his rival and turn him away from Rychania. It’s also my task to humble him when I’m able. I think I’ve done well on the first part of that. I’ve yet to have the opportunity to humble him. I’m sure my chance will come once classes begin.”
“Hmm,” the goatwoman hummed. “Interesting. You would make yourself an enemy of the Hero?”
“No,” I shook my head. “Not an enemy. A rival. I’m not out to cause him any real injury or harm. I actually kind of like him, though I don’t know him that well yet.”
She nodded along. “That’s good. And a good role for you and for your skills.”
That made me feel a little pride, both in myself and in my Handler for trusting me with the task.
“But on to your talents. Understand, I may not be able to name the specific skill if it’s not already on your list, but I can point you in the right direction. First, your non-Mystic skills. For your existing skill, you have a good amount of talent in Stealth, Grappling, Bleed, and those other three skills I don’t particularly like. You’ll have plenty of chances to practise some of that with your course work. Your talent in Synesthesia is . . . impressive. I would strongly recommend taking Advanced Senses if you are attending for more than just this year. It would be a waste not to advance that skill as much as you can. I assume you’ll be here as long as Mister Romano is?”
I nodded in answer to her question about my stay, then hoping against what my gut was telling me, I asked, “What about Cooking?”
“Normal, neither talented nor untalented,” the dean answered, bluntly.
It didn’t crush my dreams of improving my Cooking skill, but it would require a lot more effort. Luckily, I was never one to shy away from putting in effort for something I really wanted. I really wanted to advance my Cooking skill as well as gain some skills related to it if I could.
“Any other skills you want to ask about?” she offered.
I hummed for a second then remembered she mentioned she could point me in the direction of something I might have a talent for but be unaware of. “Is there anything I should be trying to learn?”
“You don’t have much talent when it comes to weapons beyond the Knife Fighting Skill you already possess. Your Myopia really limits your talent there. Learning Grappling was probably one of the best things you could have done for yourself. You have talent in close quarters combat. Any martial skill that gets you close to your opponent will be to your benefit. If you want to develop your fighting skills, Wrestling and Acupressure are smart choices that will compliment that style of combat style nicely. Kin Anatomy and Beast Anatomy would also be good choices but that might be your Butchering skill muddying the waters. Complimentary skills like that can feed off of each other and make it appear like you’re talented even when you’re not.” She frowned and waved a hand as if she was fanning something away from her face. “Anything else you want to know?
I shook my head, “No, that was all.”
She smiled kindly. “Good, moving on to your Mystic talents. Obviously, you have a strong Shadow talent. Surprisingly, you also have a strong Light talent. Everyone has Mind talent to varying degrees. As is normal for most kin, yours is a bit below average. You’ll probably be able to learn enough to guard your mind and maybe compel answers, but the latter may be too much for you.”
The Mind talent was interesting. I liked the idea of being able to protect myself from kin like the dean. Hearing I had talent with Light was very surprising. Old Romina used Light Manipulation to heal. I wouldn’t have minded that at all. “So, I can learn to heal?”
The old goatwoman shook her head, “No, wrong spectrum of light for that. You need to have some level of talent in Life Attunement to learn to heal others. Yours is more illusions and the like. A useful talent for someone with your Job. As such, I would strongly suggest you take some time during your Mysticism course to use one of the Elemental boxes.”
I frowned. I really didn’t know enough about the courses I was going to be taking. The Agency’s misssive didn’t say anything about Elemental boxes.
“Any others I should learn?” I asked.
The dean shook her head, “Nothing you won’t be learning through your coursework anyway.
I was tempted to ask what I would be learning but wasn’t sure if I had a time limit. We already spent a lot of time talking about the hero and I wanted to get as much out of this as I could before time ran out. I made the decision to move on to my status classes. I asked, “Would you recommend Agility or Dexterity for me?”
She shook her head. “Neither,” she said bluntly. “You know the Macramé skill, that is all the training you need for those two stats. An hour a day plus Martial Training and you’ll find those two stats developing well enough. No, you should take a Strength course. Better would be a Charisma course, but I understand that you need to develop your body more at this stage in your career.”
I hadn’t considered Charisma at all. My Charisma ranked as Terrible. I doubted I could raise it enough to be effective. “Why Charisma?”
The dean’s response was a little blunt, “Because your Charisma is Terrible. You’ll be able to make fast gains with it ranked so low. I encourage every student to raise their base statuses to at least Average rank. And with something like Charisma, you’ll find it much easier to work with others and for your Job, to get what you need out of others without resorting to . . . other methods.”
“Could I take both?” I asked, “I mean, could I take more than one status class?”
The dean nodded, “We don’t really put a limit on status classes. You could take all of them if you wanted, though I wouldn’t recommend it. The strain might prove too much for your body to handle.”
I grinned, “Thank you, dean.”
“That’s Dean Weber to you,” the dean said with a smile. “Now, let’s finalise your schedule. I’m sure Mister Romano is just as eager to get his evaluation done.”
At her mention of Al, I had an idea, though I very much doubted she’d be willing to help. Still, I asked, “I don’t suppose you’d share the results of his evaluation with me when you’re done? I could really use a leg up on him if I’m going to push him in the right direction.”
She raised a curious eyebrow, “And what do you consider to be the right direction?”
“Loyalty to the kin and not to any nation,” I answered. I’d been thinking about Al’s situation for a while now. Loyalty to any nation could see him turned into a weapon of war.
She barked a laugh. “Oh, I like you very much. I won’t tell you everything, but I might give you a pointer here and there to help, as you say, push him in the right direction.”
I smiled.