Jeb packed up his supplies and left the classroom. Walking aimlessly, he decided to trust the Academy to lead him wherever was best for him to go. As the smell of books started to grow, Jeb nodded to himself. Now was as good of a time as any to check out the textbooks he would need for the term.
Librarian Kaitlyn was talking to Margaret when Jeb fully entered the Library. They turned, and both waved, Peeking behind Margaret, Jeb saw that Philip was standing there as well. For whatever reason, he had blended into the background until Jeb focused on him.
“Good morning, Jeb,” the two Librarians called out.
“How can the Library help you today?” Kaitlyn continued.
“I was hoping to check out the materials I will need for my courses this term,” Jeb replied.
Kaitlyn handed him a stack of books. “I was wondering when you would come in.”
Jeb took a quick glance at the different titles on the covers. It seemed like he only needed a single textbook for each of his courses this term, which was a bit of a relief. Without the System supporting him as much, he was very aware of the fact that a stack of books was not weightless.
“Thank you!” he said. Kaitlyn and Margaret nodded. As Jeb walked into the Stacks, he heard them murmur something to each other.
When Jeb made it to his desk, he was unsurprised to see that it was empty. The only people he had ever seen in the Stacks were clearly still in the front of the Library. He quickly glanced at the syllabus for Theoretical Glyph Magic. It did not have any assigned readings for the next class period, so he set it down with the tome labeled Theoretical Glyphs. Jeb picked up the textbooks he had been given the previous term for Remedial Civics and made his way to his independent study.
Professor Fredrick waved as Jeb entered the room before quickly suppressing a look of worry. After a quick glance at the clock on the wall, he frowned slightly. “It is good to see you Jeb,” he said, “but I believe that you are early for our independent study.”
Jeb shrugged. “I had an awkward amount of time after picking up my textbooks for the term and wasn’t sure how else to spend it. I can leave and come back in,” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “half an hour if you’d rather.”
The Professor shook his head vehemently. “There is no need for that,” he said firmly. “If you would like, we can move our meeting time up by half an hour for the term.”
Jeb looked at his schedule again. “I don’t see any problems with that,” he said hesitantly, “but I don’t want to be a burden.”
Professor Fredrick waved his objections away. “It is no problem for me. Truthfully, it will be nice to be able to leave the Academy slightly earlier.”
Jeb cocked his head in confusion.
Professor Fredrick clearly played through the conversation they had just had. “Jeb, has no one told you that Professors are not also required to sleep at the Academy?”
Jeb shook his head. “No, I had just assumed that everyone at the Academy stays at the Academy through the entire term.”
“That is generally true for students and Deans. If I had to estimate what Professors do, on the other hand, I would guess that no more than half of us spend our nights behind Academy walls.”
“Why not?”
Fredrick shook his head. “That is beyond the scope of this study. I am sure that you can think of a number of reasons on your own time if you care to, though.”
Jeb nodded, and the two resumed their journey through the Civics material that the Academy felt he was lacking. Jeb noticed a clear difference from the previous term. At the beginning of his first term in the Academy, every rule and regulation that he learned seemed arbitrary, as though they were made on the whims of someone powerful. Now that he had read through a number of them and learned about the structure of the government, a number of the seemingly arbitrary decisions seemed, if not reasonable, then at least understandable.
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Jeb left the independent study and went to the cafeteria. After a quick meal, he returned to the Stacks to study for the remainder of the day. The next morning, he opened the door leading out of his room and stopped.
There were two sheets of paper hanging in the air at his eye level. Frowning slightly, Jeb picked them up. He nodded as he read through the first page. It was an updated schedule which reflected the change in his independent study meeting time.
I wonder what the other page could be, Jeb thought absently. The page was blank save for four words.
See me. Dean Aquam
Strange, Jeb thought. I wonder what that could be about. The lack of any time for meeting was a little confusing, and Jeb debated whether he should go to breakfast first, or whether it would be best for him to just go straight to the Dean’s office. Since he’d woken up between bells, Jeb had no clear idea what time it was. The steady glow of light in his room did nothing to tell him the time, and so he decided to go to breakfast. Maybe Dean Aquam will be there, Jeb justified the decision.
Inside the cafeteria, Jeb saw Dean Aquam sitting with his customary bowl of broth. The Dean waved as he entered but didn’t make any gestures implying that he wanted Jeb to sit right away. With nothing else distracting him, Jeb went and filled a plate with breakfast food. As he walked towards the tables, Dean Aquam waved him over.
“Good morning!” Jeb called out cheerily as he neared the table.
“Good morning, Jeb,” the Dean replied in a more sedate tone. “Did you receive my letter?”
Jeb nodded. “What did you want to meet with me about?”
The Dean shook his head. “Not here. Is my memory correct?” Before Jeb could ask on what topic, he continued, “you do not have a course scheduled for a number of hours yet?”
Jeb took a quick glance at his schedule to make sure that nothing else had changed with the shifting of his independent study. “It doesn’t look like I do!” he replied.
“Then, assuming you have no objections, I would like to have you come to my office for this conversation.”
Jeb looked at his food, worried that he would have to waste it. A smile finally broke out on the Dean’s face. “It is nothing so urgent that you cannot finish your breakfast first. How was your first day of the new term?”
The two chatted amiably until Jeb had finished his meal. A slow trickle of students had begun to filter into the room as the two left. Dean Aquam remained quiet during their walk to his office, and Jeb walked behind him in mirrored silence. When they made it inside the office, the Dean closed the door behind Jeb and took a seat behind his desk. He gestured for Jeb to sit, and he did.
“Do you know why I have called you into my office today?” the Dean asked.
“I have no idea,” Jeb replied honestly. The Dean did not respond immediately, so Jeb took a moment to stop and think. Since he had seen the Dean the day before the term began, it had to be something from yesterday. Jeb thought through all of his interactions, trying to find anything that might be relevant to the Dean.
Understanding dawned as he thought about his Theoretical Glyph Magic course. “Oh!” he said, “my Theoretical Glyph Professor said that he would talk to you. It sounded like he wanted to talk about the Manaweave I made?” he proposed hesitantly.
The Dean nodded. “Do you know why your Professor would like to purchase your Manaweave?”
Jeb shook his head, and the Dean began nodding again. “If I remember correctly, you said in the past that the only Manaweave you used prior to your entry into the Academy was made by your uncle?”
Jeb began nodding.
“Take this,” the Dean said, holding out a sheet of what Jeb assumed was Manaweave. He nearly dropped it as soon as his fingers closed around it. It felt rough, almost like sandpaper.
I wonder if Sandweave will feel like this, Jeb thought idly as he resisted the urge to toss the sheet of Manaweave back at his advisor.
The Dean seemed to notice Jeb’s discomfort and reached to take the page back. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Jeb handed it over.
“Do I need to elaborate on why your Manaweave might be seen as preferable to this?” The Dean asked, tone light.
“No.” Jeb replied flatly.
“Would you be interested in selling some of your Manaweave to your Professor or other interested parties?”
“Is there any reason that I shouldn’t?” Jeb asked.
The Dean shrugged. “I know a number of people who found that projects they enjoyed working on became much less pleasurable once they were paid to continue them. Other than that, though, the only reason that comes immediately to mind is if you do not want to produce more than the amount of Manaweave that you plan to use.”
Another thought popped into Jeb’s head. “Oh!” he exclaimed, “this would be a good way for me to pay off my debt to the Censusmaster, wouldn’t it?”
The Dean looked towards the ceiling, clearly considering his answer. “That is potentially true, yes,” he finally answered. “We can discuss exactly what you plan to do with your earnings later. How many sheets of Manaweave would you be able to produce?”
Jeb cocked his head. “In what timeframe?”
The Dean sighed. “That is a reasonable answer, I suppose. Would making fifty sheets by the end of the term be outside of the question?”
“I don’t think so,” Jeb replied, before remembering the Weaver’s offer. “Do I need to weave the Manaweave myself?”
The Dean’s brows furrowed. “No, I suppose that it does not matter where you get the Manaweave from, so long as it is high enough quality.”
“Thank you!” Jeb said, standing. “Then fifty sheets will be no issue at all.” Jeb left the room and began walking towards the Workshop.