“The fine tuning of a recruit’s place within the Ardent is a rapid, and at times, unpredictable thing, at least for the recruits who enlist while still in the lower circles of magic. As such, it is common for career tracks and service branches to be to be adjusted at a moment’s notice depending on not only the aptitude shown by the recruit, but also their affinity. It would do no good for us to burn a life affinity marching in the mud for an instant longer when they could start studying medicine all the sooner, nor would we waste a fire affinity in the cramped and cold confines of a ship when they are best suited for open war on the ground.”
—Memo To All Recruits, Administrator Mengrammon
The private tutoring session ended far sooner than Sylvas would have liked, but yet at a point where he agreed that stopping was the best course of action.
That point in particular being when he’d accidentally destroyed a sizeable fragment of inscribed stone instead of sending it to Cold Storage.
Exhaustion had caused him to miscalculate a few critical variables while casting the spell and as such, the spell flung stone across the room where it shattered in spray of shards and dust, rather than harmlessly tucking it away into the other plane.
“A rite of passage for every student. Though I hope that slab wasn’t important to anyone’s research of the place,” Farhed said dismissively before promptly leading them out of the deep dark depths of the complex where they’d been practicing and eventually back outside into the open night air, a transition that instantly made Sylvas feel nervous.
And for an understandable reason too, Sylvas realized when he considered exactly grated at his nerves.
Every day here so far upon Strife had felt like a battle, one that had left him almost permanently high strung. More than that too, he’d been shipped here more or less directly from the most violent conflict he could have conceived of. As such, it was hardly surprising to him that whenever he was out of cover, he almost instantly became uncomfortable. Of course the alien stars above him did nothing to help his feeling either. Back on Croesia he could name the constellations and predict from the position of the moons how the floes of mana would be affected. Here on Strife he didn’t know a single star and nor did he feel like he’d get an opportunity to remedy that any time soon.
But perhaps more than all of that, it was his destination that was causing his mind to stand on edge.
That was because with every step close that he took to his new home, the Blackhall, the building where the naval recruits and officer cadets slept in, had him feeling like he was closing in on enemy fortifications. From one point of view in his mind they had all been something akin to his enemies just yesterday, the rivalries between their different branches of service within the Ardent having been exceptionally fierce. But now, with a wave of their respective hands, Instructor Aurea and Administrator Mengrammon had not only switched his service to both the navy and officer training, his approval for each having come in during his training with Farhed, but changed his bunk assignment too. Just the same way that they had changed Kaya when she manifested an affinity that was more useful on a ship than it was in the infantry.
He was one of them now, the black patches, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it. So much had happened since affinity testing that morning that he’d barely even taken in what had happened yet, but here he was walking into the den of the lions.
This building seemed as old as the central tower, but while the main building of the campus had been patched and restored to working order using whatever materials were to hand, the Blackhall seemed different. The original architecture hadn’t been built over, it had been restored. Reinforced where necessary, but not at the cost of the overall aesthetics of the place, which went a long way to making it feel more like his old home to Sylvas than any of the modern slickness prevalent in the Empyrean.
As he walked up the stairs he had the sense of being watched, but nobody tried to stop him, and when he pushed the heavy wooden doors open and passed through the wards to keep out the endless dust, he found himself stepping out onto flagstones. He had shoes on now, of course. Boots really. He was a lifetime away from the orphanage and all its torments, but something about this place seemed to bring it all back.
The first thing that Sylvas noticed was that there was furniture here. Not metal frames built to serve a function, but actual wooden chairs and tables that lined the main hall. A circular firepit was set in the center of the room, producing a steady warmth with a dull red flame that was anything but natural. The walls had been smoothed back to their original texture, though all carving and art must have long since been stripped bare by time.
It was surprisingly pleasant.
Then people started to take notice of him. Heads turned away from conversations, eyes rose from slates, he was deep in enemy territory and the sentries had been alerted. He saw officer cadets from Hammerheart’s little clique gathered around a table to the back of the room, all eyes on him. He hadn’t learned any new spells yet. His old ones would need vast modifications to work with the new mana flowing through him. This was the worst-case scenario – short of Hammerheart ambushing in the hall again – and Sylvas, in his tired daze, had walked right into it.
Then, right in the midst of Sylvas’ growing panic attack, Bael appeared out from nowhere and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome to the other half of Strife, my friend.”
At those the words the spell and Sylvas’s panic broke, and eyes began to turn away again. Hammerheart’s friends turned their attention back to whatever they’d been occupied with and the other various interested parties began to return to their conversations, not giving either of them so much as a second look. “Given the news ripping our campus apart, I’m not surprised to see that you’ve been sent to join us here in the Blackhall. The pleasures of service no doubt. Hopefully the accommodations are to your liking at least.”
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Sylvas was at a complete loss at how to even being to reply as he came down from his nervous escalation, eventually choosing to simply say, “seems like a nice place.”
“Ah, yes, though I assure you it’s mostly for function. Had you come last week, you’d have seen twice as many here, all weeping tears of blood over our latest astrodynamics exam,” Bael replied, offering Sylvas a thin smile, at least until he realized that Sylvas still wasn’t entirely present. “Hm, you look a bit wrought, would you like me to guide you to your room, or perhaps something to eat first?”
It was at that point that Sylvas realized that he hadn’t thought of going back to his old bunk to collect any of his belongings, only to realize a moment afterwards that he didn’t really have anything to bring anyway. His slate was in his pocket, newly updated with all of the previously restricted information about gravity affinity spells, embodiments and paradigms, and the only clothes he had left that weren’t in the wash cycle were the ones on his back. Including, of course, the jacket that was his recruit uniform, which was technically out of date given his promotion and switch of service branches. “Just…just my room for now I think, had a busy day.”
The hand on his shoulder then vanished as Bael used it to motion towards a hallway at the back the room that in turn led to a stairwell. “Ah yes, the type of day that prophets foretell, and historians adore from what I hear.”
Sylvas couldn’t help but wince at that assessment, having hoped to have kept at least something of his day private. But then again, it had been the better part of a day by now. Everyone who was alive would have already heard that he’d destroyed the affinity testing chamber, that he had gravity affinity and that he was being promoted. Otherwise he wouldn’t have made it into the Blackhall, let alone done so unchallenged. For being a whole planet, Strife was a shockingly small place when it came to rumors. Regardless, he tried to downplay it, if only to try and find some stability for himself. “Eh, it’s been…busy, but I’m not sure about all the excitement.”
Glancing over as they walked an amused look came over Bael’s face. “Oh? You don’t think so? Well, then just wait until the offers start coming in.”
“Offers?” Sylvas couldn’t help but glanced sideways at the man. Talking with the elf always made him feel slightly off balance. The man talked like he was from one of the old plays that Sylvas had come across in the library back home, all stiff politeness and profuse verbiage.
“Well, every shipping conglomerate in the Empyrean will want you for themselves to start with. All the noble families would love a gravity mage of their own so that they can send out looting expeditions, oh pardon me, explorations into unoccupied space. And that isn’t even accounting for every smuggler or spy in the entire universe who will want to bypass the attention that passage through the gates attracts. In the span of a single day it appears that you have made yourself into the most desirable commodity in the Empyrean. Everyone will want to own, buy, or rent you.”
Sylvas tried not to let the unsettled feeling that suddenly hit his stomach show on his face. “I’m with the Ardent.”
It was a response that instantly puzzled Bael, the elf’s brows jumping upwards. “Hm, I did not expect that. You’re worth so much more than a soldier now. You do not need to earn acceptance in our society through military service anymore. Yet you’re going to stay?”
Sylvas simply shrugged at the question, not knowing how else to even begin to reply. “I told the Ardent that I was going to fight for them, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
Bael cocked his head to the side as he looked back at Sylvas, his long straight hair falling out from where it had been tucked behind his ears. It was as long as Sylvas’ used to be before it was burnt off. “Is this a matter of honor?”
The question took Sylvas a little off guard. He supposed that it was in a way. He’d made a promise to join the Ardent, to help them in the fight against the Eidolons and whatever other threats the universe had. Right now he had no intention of breaking that promise. “I guess it is.”
“I see. A rather archaic mode of behavioral management, but one that I cannot deny has merit.” Bael said as their journey down the spiral staircase they were on came to an end leaving them to spill out into a central room. Circularly shaped, the room then in turn exited into a dozen more hallways, each one labeled with a letter above it. From here, Sylvas saw several doors adorned with bright brass plates, a sign as soon as any that they’d reached the dormitories.
“I think I can take it from here.” He announced as he turned to look back at Bael, offering a genuine smile. It was nice to know he had some sort of ally here in the Blackhall, even if it was only because the man was feeling so guilty about Enore’s death.
“By all means, and please do not hesitate to use a sending should you require any further guidance. This place is quite deliberately labyrinthian, I imagine to minimize the danger of any intruder in its prior days. But it does make it something of a nuisance to navigate on the day to day.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” Sylvas replied, nodding his thanks again as the elf turned to ascend back up the stairs to whatever else he had scheduled for the day. That in then left Sylvas to find his room, relying on Lockmind to remind him just where exactly the sending told him to go. Fortunately it wasn’t far, and before long he was placing his hand on the brass plate of a door with his name on it.
Which in turn revealed a surprisingly well-appointed bedroom.
By the window there was a study space with a desk and a selection of slates, presumably preloaded with the information that he’d require for his studies. A small seating area around another of the dull red flame shaped heat sources. A wooden wardrobe large enough to hold an actual person’s selection of clothing, rather than the 3 to 5 items that Sylvas was in possession of on a daily basis. And then, there was the bed. It was not a cot, nor a bunk, it was a double.
Sylvas stared at it for a long time, with confusion mounting until without any warning, Kaya wandered through from the bathroom – their own private bathroom – in a towel to greet him. The woman instantly followed his gaze, then snorted. “Don’t look so scared, I’m not going to jump you, I’ve my own entrance and bed in my room on the other side of the bog. We’re just sharin it.”
“The… bog?” Sylvas hoped that his voice wasn’t actually as high pitched as he sounded to his ear.
Kaya gestured wildly to the room she’d just exited from. “The crap room. The toilet. The lavatory.”
“Ah…okay,” Sylvas said, at a complete loss for words as he stared back at Kaya. Eventually he found some and did his best to send them free tactfully. “I…I wasn’t expecting that we’d be sharing quarters.”
Of course that statement only caused the dwarven woman to throw her head back and laugh wildly.
“You’re tellin me!” She exclaimed while continuing to laugh. “Stars, trust these Ardent kulgh to add one to one and get three. To start with, they asked me if we’d be sharing the bed. Thought we were married, because while you ain’t a dwarf, on my records I had it down that you were part of my clan.”
“And…and you fully corrected this misassumption?” Sylvas asked. “Kaya, please tell me that you did.”
“What do you think? I can hardly bed every strong armed lad in the Blackhall if they think I’ve got a husband.”
The noise that came out of Sylvas’ mouth afterwards was something like a strangled goose might make.