The kid got up nervously from his seat and walked to the podium. The spelling bee moderator, a well-put-together man in a gray three-piece, regarded him coldly as the kid tried to gather his nerves. This was a lot of pressure for a sixth grader.
“The word is: Ekpyrosis.” the moderator finally said after a tense pause.
“Can you provide a definition?” the boy quavered, knowing full well it wouldn’t make a damn difference.
“Ekpyrosis: A stoic belief in the periodic destruction of the Earth by a great fire - Plato estimated every 36,000 years.”
“Can you use it in a sentence?” he asked, bargaining for another few minutes to live.
“Certainly.” The moderator says, leaving his podium. “If you’d lived as long as I have, you’d understand that the origin of ekpyrosis lies not with the Greeks, but with the Egyptians.”
He crossed the stage slowly, never breaking eye contact, never blinking.
“It’s why they built their pathetic pyramids - not as burial sites, but as places of refuge against the Great Conflagration.”
He cracked a grin, flashing a set of pointed teeth, and came to a stop just behind the kid, putting a hand comfortingly on his shoulder.
“Can you imagine it?” he continued. “Stuck in a dark, stone tomb as the world ends all around you? Trapped forever?”
As he spoke, his face twisted into a hideous abomination - half oni, half minotaur, and eleven tenths death. The eyes… it was Clayton, no doubt.
“How about you, you little shit? Is God going to spare you when the time comes?”
The kid stood rooted to the ground in fear, not even daring to sweat, lest it be the end.
“I’ve given you your task - I think it’s about time you stop stalling. Spell the word.”
“E-e-e-e-ekpyrosis.” the kid finally squeaked out. “H-A-R-A-M-B-E. Ekpyrosis.”
Horns grew from the moderator’s head. Not little gazelle horns like Stella’s, I’m talking hook-em-horns that you could hang coats from. Or your enemies. The beast’s chuckle was a low, throaty growl.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to disqualify you, son. Better luck next year.”
The kid burst into tears, sobbing, and stumbled off the stage, tripping over his own feet, to get back to his family - a furious father and a mother who looked like she had recently been run over by a car made of fists.
“... went over that word multiple times!!!! Why do I even bother to....”
Dumbass kid. The mom is gonna get it tonight.
I lost a spelling bee once to sapphire. Two P’s in a row, if you can believe it - fucking unbelievable.
----------------------------------------
“...told you, we have to eat before the opening ceremony! Otherwise we’ll get hungry during!” Gurden prattled beneath me. For once, I was happy to be woken up early.
“...ate already.” came the timid response. Well damn, looks like she can speak after all. I leapt from my top bunk, landing next to Ursa and derailing their train of bullshit. Gurden shot me a glare as I walked out, ready to carb up for what was to come.
Today was a big day - the grand opening ceremony of the year of study. The Castellan students would parade through the streets, starting at the Coliseum and ending at the great Cathedral, where the king would deliver a welcoming speech. That’s one thing I always liked about Castella - they understood the value of their youth.
After a quick trip to the cafeteria, and with my pie hole sufficiently stuffed, I strolled on over to the Coliseum. Several of the buildings in this neighborhood were related to the school, and the streets were tightly packed with students, their families, and other miscellaneous sardines. Behind the block of dormitories stood a colossal circular structure - row upon row of stone arches, reinforced with buttresses that could best be described as phat. The Coliseum was the third-tallest building in the city, bested only by the Cathedral and the Castle itself, and it had seating for thousands. Perfect for tournaments, combat training, or high-profile executions - and did I mention money? Money. The plaza in front of the Coliseum was no different than the streets - completely packed. You could barely even turn around. There were people lining up just to piss on a wall.
Fortunately, I had an out - and I don’t mean my magical chastity belt. Wylie had supplied Stella and I with silver pins to mark us as distinct from the rest of the plebs. We would be congregating at the center of the Coliseum with the rest of the wealthy brats to form the vanguard of the procession. A ha-rum-pum-pum-pum to you too, good sir. The bouncer at the entrance looked skeptically over my suspiciously shabby clothes, but conceded when he saw my mythril shackles.
Probably thinks I’m some douchebag’s pet orphan or something.
I felt out-of-place instantly when I made my debut in the central arena, a flat sandy circle surrounded by an imposing wall of stadium seating, tall enough that I couldn’t have climbed out if I’d wanted to. Not that I wanted to, it was just a bit awkward to be the only person not dressed in the sky blue school uniform that the pay-to-play students were assigned.
Other than Stella, at least, who was off chatting with… I’m not gonna list all their fucking names every time, you know who I’m talking about. Those fuckers.
Fortunately, there was a stand off to one side serving a potion with the power to cure awkwardness. I grabbed a glass and got to work - drinks were on the house today. Looking around, I could see that several of the kids were having trouble adjusting to this kind of freedom, gesticulating erratically and slurring their words already, though it wasn’t even… I checked the sun.
10 o’ clock.
The stadium seats were mostly empty, with a few groups populating the lower rows, probably gambling on how many kids would yak before noon. A large group of students clustered around the opposite side of the stadium. Peering into the nexus, I could just barely make out… pink hair?
Nah, there’s no way.
I turned back towards the beer dispensary, contemplating the existence of another round.
“You don’t want to fill up here, there’ll be way more on the road.” came a voice from my left. I turned, and gazed upon what had to be the most pompous little fuck in a stadium full of pompous little fucks. He was just a bit taller than me and looked a bit wiry, but strong. He had brown curly hair, and a gold-trimmed version of the school tunic that announced how extra-special he was. Even worse, this kid was drinking a fucking glass of wine.
I don’t even think they were serving that here…
What a flex.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Soon as they clear the streets, we’re gonna march across town. And there’ll be plenty of spots for drinks along the way. They call this the Beer Marathon.” he explained, grinning.
“Really? I thought this was a parade.”
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“It is, kind of. Just in slow motion. The king is always late, anyway.”
Huh. So it’s gonna be one of those days.
I cracked my neck to get the juices flowing.
“I’m Jerith, by the way.” the boy said, extending his hand. “Are you the Calderan I’ve been hearing about?”
“Probably.” I said, shaking his hand. “I’m Bradley, formerly of planet Earth.”
The boy’s face lit up. “Wow - I’ve never met an off-worlder before! Tell you what, I have to get back to my group… but I’m having a party after sunset tonight - I’m in the penthouse in that dorm over there.” he said, gesturing over the top of the stadium. “If you wanna stop by, I’ll introduce you to some of my friends!”
“Sounds like fun!” I answered enthusiastically. I didn’t know who this guy was, but he seemed like a pretty useful person to know.
I followed his guidance and nursed my beer, taking a seat at the edge of the arena. Eventually, a troop of bannermen filed into the arena, trumpets blasted, and the Marathon began.
----------------------------------------
“Come, ye faithful, and drink. This is the piss of our hero and savior Matthias!”
I winced. The monks would have to have to come up with a better line than that to convert the throng of students gathered around the entrance of the Church of Iron. Dunkan was among them, proselytizing up a storm to anyone who would listen. Still, I had to admit that the dark, bitter beer they were serving was considerably better than the Coliseum stock. Their hero and savior was clearly a man of taste.
The drinks were free, purchased with five minutes of our attention. A monk stood before me, explaining something about how Matthias ended the Age of Darkness by slaying some demon lord. And of course, like everyone else in this goddamn city, he was intrigued by my-
“-shackles, young man! A rare sight in our country - we ended the practice of slavery long ago.”
“Know anyone who can get them off?” I asked halfheartedly, slurking from my glass. More than sipping, but less than glugging.
“Nay, I fear not. But become a member of our Church, and you may relieve yourself of the shackles on your soul - though they cannot be seen, they bind you every bit as tightly as those on your body.”
It was a rich line coming from a guy whose eyes were starting to go crossed.
I finished my drink, thanked him for his wisdom, and continued down the road. The students were slowly ambling along, not in any particular hurry, enjoying the cheers of the crowd of spectators. A row of guardsmen carrying blue and red banners on long standards lined the street, showing the way and keeping the path clear.
Market square was about as busy as normal, that is, bursting with excess persons. Thankfully, a path had been cleaved through the center for the students to walk, lined with at least four beer stands. I bypassed all of them, because I’m learning how to enjoy myself without the use of alcohol. Alright, that’s bullshit. I was actually very interested to see the king for the first time, and to hear what he had to say. So for the time being, I had to hold myself in check. This single decision immediately put me near the vannest part of the vanguard.
I wonder what the reward is for winning the Beer Marathon…
Probably a beer.
As I crossed the bridge, I saw a couple of students hanging their heads over the edge, looking sick.
Amateurs.
Continuing along the main road, I eventually reached Overflow Square, a slightly downsized version of Market Square, but on the other side of town. Dodging another bevy of beer stands, I continued North. The castle was now firmly in my field of view, with the cathedral next to it. It was quite the vision - these were the largest buildings in the city. The Castle, with its enormous bulk and endless crenellations, and the Cathedral, with its soaring towers and intricate stonework. Meanwhile in America, we build big cubes. No art, no culture, just brutalist efficiency. If you’ve ever looked out the window of a plane, you’ll realize you’ve spent your whole life living in one big computer chip, with buildings instead of processors, cars instead of current, and people instead of information.
Alright, so I did stop for one more beer. I was getting pretty close to the Cathedral, but I was losing my buzz, and there was a whole group of pretty nuns who looked like they needed a strapping young gent to drink with.
The beer was light and hoppy, not bad at all.
“Welcome, child, to the Church of Life! Join us and be cleansed!” chirped a nun, a young woman clad in a dark grey dress that left pretty much everything to the imagination. Good thing I’m an imaginative guy.
36C? Nah, 34D for sure.
“Didn’t know there was another Church besides the Iron people.” I belched stupidly.
The nun smiled. “We’re certainly a minority in Castella, but the good king respects the right of all citizens to hold their own beliefs - though it doesn’t hurt that we believe in the same deities as the Church of Iron.”
“Tevveshian, right?”
“That’s right! The God of Man. But in our Church we give Mythra, the Goddess of Woman equal praise as well. We believe in balance, and truth.”
“Everyone thinks they believe in the truth.” I said, my feminist senses tingling. The nun seemed like a nice enough person though, and she didn’t seem put off at all by my prodding.
“I’ve studied the scriptures of both churches, and ours makes a far more detailed and compelling case. However, since all we have to go on are written accounts, it still is a matter of faith.”
I hate faith. It’s how con-men make a living. But by the way the nun spoke, she seemed to see faith not as a virtue, but as a necessity.
“So what’s the big problem with their scripture?” I asked
“It’s the book of Matthias.” the nun answered, lowering her voice. “The Church of Iron says that he killed the demon lord. On this we agree. But the Church of Life also believes that Matthias died during the battle, and that the demon lord Pseudolmyne, the bringer of the Age of Darkness, was Matthias’s father - the mortal incarnation of Tevveshian himself!”
Seems pretty clear-cut - Surely there’s no ill intent between the two groups.
I drained my third amigo and wished the nun a blessed day.
----------------------------------------
Sure enough, standing near the front of the Cathedral, only a few dozen students had arrived so far - my incredible display of mental fortitude had netted me court side tickets. By Castellan standards, these dorks were cold sober. I took my place among them and began what promised to be a good long wait.
The interior of the Cathedral was truly cavernous - it was one gigantic worship space, with space for thousands. It looked like there were normally pews, but they’d been moved aside to accommodate the thousands of students who would be pressing themselves in to hear the king’s sermon. It was naturally lit by countless stained glass windows casting vivid patches of color though the entire space - magic without magic. No wonder people were so religious back when they built these things on Earth. The altar was equally impressive - blinged out with golden candles and a shiny chrome deadlift bar. Behind the altar was a large balcony with a golden throne in the middle. It was anyone’s guess who sat there.
Most of the students that had arrived so far were from the vanguard - we got at least an hour’s start over everyone else. But surprisingly, there were also a few students who were not - they must have skipped all the festivities and headed… maybe even jogged… straight here. Dorks among dorks. I shuddered at the thought of cardiovascular activity. Even more surprisingly, Jerith had already arrived as well, sipping what might have been the same glass of wine from before.
Saving himself for later, I guess.
He gave me a quick nod before returning to conversation with his friends, a rowdy group of guys that exuded nepotism.
One good long wait later, the entire church was filled. Most of the congregants wore the school uniform, cut with a healthy mix of piss-poors. It looked like the crowd didn’t stop at the exits - there must have been an equally large crowd gathered outside.
How the hell do any of them expect to hear the -
“STUDENTS OF CASTELLA!” boomed a powerful voice.
It belonged to a tall man with a thick mane of blue hair and horns like Stella’s, dripping in white satin robes, who seemed to be using magic to enhance his voice.
“Greetings, and welcome to our noble house of worship. It is my honor as archbishop of Castella to present to you our glorious ruler - defender of the realm and stalwart of order - KING REGNUS THE SECOND!”
As he spoke, the King and his posse made their entrance on the balcony. The first was a man who must have been ten feet tall. He wasn’t a lanky ten feet, either - this guy’s frame was full to bursting. Even in church, he was decked out in ceremonial armor, with a massive blade slung across his back. Guess the Church of Iron doesn’t care if you wear a bit of it to worship.
“...Sigma Kallum, the Champion...” I heard a student murmur.
“He’s huge!” came the response.
Must be one of those Olympians that Burt was going on about…
Then, the king himself strode to the throne, and after a pause for applause took his seat.
He was an older gentleman with a mix of gray in his beard, wearing a charismatic crimson cloak trimmed with gold. He was flanked on either side by the queen and a younger man who appeared to be their son.
Just as John had told me, the King wasn’t wearing a crown. The rulers in this world use a different symbol to announce their authority - an ancient holy relic, with only seven known in existence. Sure enough, it was hanging on a cord around the King’s neck.
The Key of the Kingdom.
An ornate, mythril piece that bore a striking resemblance to the one I’d almost left behind in the cave.
Finally, I’d found it - my first step towards freedom! The links of my chastity belt seemed to dig deeper into my skin as I stared.
Your day is coming, Mr. Belt.
I heard more murmuring and turned… just in time to catch the suspicious gaze of an observant bitch named Stella.