Some things about Bronson’s new university experience were as expected, like a personal tutor who tells you to contact them if you have any issues or at least a couple people you already feel like you won’t like. What did come as a surprise was the icebreaker questions, which probably could have been anticipated, but were very inconvenient as he had to field questions about his past like

“What classes did you want to have growing up?”

Bronson said he hadn’t given it much thought and everyone looked at him as if he’d grown a second head, which he alarmingly realised could maybe be actually possible. He didn’t plan to make a modification like that anytime soon. Though independent limb brains with precoded actions like the ones octopuses have seemed potentially useful, if currently out of his reach.

Just as Professor David said everyone could leave they beckoned Bronson towards them with a few tentacles. “Bronson you’re already accepted into the university and there are no issues there but we’d still like to get you to do some exams to test your knowledge and let us know what level of support you might need.

“Would you be available to do those tests now?”

Bronson nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Four pairs of Professor David’s tentacles touched together. “Great. If you just wait here a moment I’ll contact someone to come and sit in on your exams.” The professor waved their tentacles around for a second. Is that some kind of sign language? Tentacle sign language incantations?

“Hey, professor sorry I just wanted to ask. How should I actually refer to you?”

“Dr David or Professor David are fine for pronouns it, she or they is fine. If you connect to the university’s spell overlay you should be able to see that for anyone who has input the information,” she said. “I’d just ask one of the other students.”

Maybe I can ask Vic or Abrax later. Vic said he was quiet but probably not so quiet he wouldn’t speak to his roommate right?

An old man with skin like parchment strode into the room. “So this the brat I have to administer the exams for?”

“Would you stop being grumpy for once Terrence?” the professor sighed.

“No, lying about how you feel is for young people. I don’t have the energy for it.” He materialised a cane in his right hand and stamped it twice on the ground. “Young man follow me and do not keep me waiting.”

What?

Professor David gestured with a couple of tentacles for Bronson to follow Terrence.

Terrence led Bronson out of the building and out to a gazebo by the edge of the island. He sat down on a bench looking out and waved his hand. A stack of papers and a Kol pen appeared. “Answer the questions. Don’t wander off. Let me know when you’re done, or when you give up.”

Well he’s a bit of a dick.

Bronson picked up the pen and the first of the exam papers. Underlying Kol Theory. He felt like he might prefer Chemathphiliologyiscs. He flipped the first page. Question 1: What is Kol?

Yeah this is going to be a pain.

Bronson got through the first paper with less pain than he anticipated, the ability to think at 4 times speed in two threads definitely made exams less painful, even if writing was a pain due to its comparative slowness. He dreaded to think how bad it would be without the brooch.

He picked up the next exam paper. Alchemical Reactions and Reagents: 1st Year. It seemed as though it was the end of year paper, it made sense if they wanted to test underlying knowledge and it also gave him an excuse, because he knew almost none of it. At least he didn’t need to take alchemy.

Terrence had glanced over a couple of times as he had worked through that one. Hopefully that wasn’t too bad a sign. The next one was fun. Incantations.

It started with a few incantations and asked Bronson to describe what they did. He didn’t want to guess as in truth he didn’t know and getting the wrong idea in his head was probably not a great idea, as the starter magic book had said, but after that it was creating your own incantations describing your belief and the imagery you put behind them. That was fun. He didn’t get to cast any of them of course, but a solid grasp of the theory was probably in order.

After that there were more mundane topics. History and Current Affairs, Trade and Mathematics. He flunked the history paper entirely, he still hadn’t gotten into it and the dossier on current events he’d extracted from the librarians had gone missing. That was kinda strange… But that was no different from his GCSEs so it probably wasn’t that bad. Trade wasn’t a whole lot better, but he could make some educated guesses and he knew a fair amount of trade went through Thalsa.

Seeing the maths paper he couldn’t help but be a bit smug, he felt he did quite well. Though the things it asked also felt a little more relevant to his life than they ever had in his old life.

“If three castings of a skill and two castings of a spell used up 20% of your Kol capacity and seven castings of a skill and one casting of a spell used 35% of your Kol capacity.

1. What percentage would one casting of the skill use?

2. What percentage would one casting of the spell use?”

3x+2y=20

7x+y=35

Bronson quickly wrote out the simultaneous equations, unsure of whether showing his work was expected and solved it, leaving the answers as fractions.

After that it was back to a more esoteric topic, at least from Bronson’s perspective: Skill Utility Assessment. Esoteric but useful. It didn’t seem to be a subject in and of itself so much as a general knowledge assessment, though it possibly formed a part of one of the classes related to the system itself.

Bronson got through the last paper, one which got him to pick and put together two of three options: runic diagrams, ritual arrays or divine sigils. It asked him to create designs to fulfil a few purposes. He didn’t think he did amazingly but maybe it was okay.

He signalled that he was finished and Terrence waved a hand over the stack.

“The gaps in your knowledge are astounding, I don’t think I’ve seen nepotism quite like it before. Lintwin’s runt? That would explain the maths proficiency if not the ineptitude in trade, though I suppose that’s why you aren’t taking his class.” Terrence chuckled, apparently the lack of having to do anything for a few hours did wonders for his mood. “Take this list to the librarians they’ll get you set up with the books you need. You’re in the university now, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be kicked out. You need to catch up. And boy, there’s no need to flinch so much. It’s not as though I’m going to hit you for getting the answer wrong.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Terrence said the last sentence with a smile as if to say, ‘There are other staff that would.’

Bronson quickly got away from Terrence and opened the list. He wanted to cry. There were so many books. Maybe there’s a reading comprehension skill, or a memory skill, I do have a spare slot.

The outside of the library was a large dome hewn of rough stone, hundreds of metres tall and wide. I don’t think you could read all of the books in a lifetime.

The archway leading into the building was filled with an inky darkness. Bronson was hesitant to enter, but seeing other people walk in without a care spurred him onwards. The darkness was thick and resisted his passage, as though he was submerged neck-deep in water.

“Woah.” Bronson’s voice came out oddly muted

The portal deposited him in a spherical room, 50 metres across, that smelled faintly of ink and old paper. People were walking across every surface, gravity apparently pushing down in every direction. On the opposite end of the sphere there was another inky black portal, below it, and upside down from his perspective the words ‘Exit, make sure to sign out your books,’ were carved into the rock.

It wasn’t just his words, but all of the sounds in the room were muted, he supposed some kind of magic to mute sounds was a must if the surfaces were smooth stone.

In front of him, a line of students slowly moved down a path that twisted to meet a platform in the centre of the room. The platform stood at 90 degrees to the portals and held a circle of outward-facing library counters, behind each counter was an identical old man with curling horns and cerulean skin.

Wordlessly, the man accepted books, either putting them in the centre of a runic diagram, where they disappeared in a flash of light or running them along a strip of smooth polished metal. Occasionally a student would hand over a piece of paper and a pile of books would appear in a flash of light.

Bronson joined the line and waved to get the attention of the person in line in front of him. “Excuse me, could you tell me how this all works?”

“Sure thing pipsqueak.”

I’m not even short anymore. Bloody skill.

From what Bronson could tell there were a few different tracks broadly speaking at the university. Academic and research, martial warriors and general magic users. Beyond that there were of course lots of specific individual options, but the campus did seem to be split into three broad sections.

The man infront of him seemed to be the martial kind. His shoulders were broad and his thick corded muscle was visible through his shirt. The greatsword hanging at his hip didn’t look to be for show and even the book in his hand,‘Forms of the Stalwart Shore,’ clearly referenced some kind of weapons technique. Not that Bronson was sure why it was so flowery. Or much about weapon techniques.

“No offense kid but I don’t think you could pick up my sword let alone learn a martial technique.” The man moved the book into a small bag clipped to his belt, then pointed back at himself with both thumbs “I’m Lyrus, third year.” He leaned in slightly. “Listen if you need any alchemical tinctures to help put on some muscle, I know a guy. After all, everyone loves muscles.”

“If I were interested, how would I go about contacting you? Oh right.” Bronson held out an arm. “Bronson, first year.”

Lyrus mirrored the gesture, clasping Bronson’s arm. “Damn dude, you’re just bones.”

Bronson smiled awkwardly. “Better hope those tinctures work then.” If there are tinctures why didn’t Nessa just have me use them? DId she actually just want me to suffer through the brooch?

“Ain’t that right. Here.” Lyrus pulled a piece of paper and a pen from his belt and scribbled down instructions, handing them over.

Bronson looked at where they were, about halfway to the counters and at 45 degree angle, though he wouldn’t have known it from where gravity was pulling from. “So how does this work?” He gestured with his arm towards the counters.

“It’s pretty simple dude. If you want to return a book, you just hand it over. If you want to take any books out, you hand over the book and tap your student ID to the rune on the counter. You don’t have any books on you right now so I assume a staff member gave you a list.”

Bronson nodded.

“You just hand that over, and the librarian gives you the books back. Usually, you need to find the books yourself. That’s a ballache but staff can ask the librarian to give you books. Normally when there’s a reading list, because they know no one can be fucked to find them otherwise.

“So I just hand the note over?”

“That’s right little guy.”

I’m not even short anymore! I’m just… scrawny now.

Bronson stepped up to the library counter and his eyes met with the librarian’s. The eyes felt familiar, ageless and weary.

“Tell me child, what is it you seek?”

Bronson involuntarily shivered and forced himself to look away, wordlessly handing over the note.

He pressed his student ID to the runes and grabbed the books. He didn’t relax until he’d waded through the portal and was safely outside the library. The fae still frightened him.

Bronson grabbed a quick dinner and headed back to his room. He stabbed his finger and drew a drop of blood, pressing it to the doorknob. The lock released with a click and he stepped inside.

Abrax was still nowhere to be seen and Bronson took the opportunity to take a proper look at the room. Rooms? Having essentially placed his things by the door, he didn’t have the chance to properly look at their space. Rather than an American-style dorm room, which was what he’d been expecting and dreading, it seemed more like a shared open-plan apartment.

The door opened out into a small room with a pair of plush chairs closer to love seats than armchairs and a pair of bookcases. The left-hand side already had some books and there was even a jet-black bird motionless in a golden cage. The next room held a small dining table and kitchen with a window looking out over the water of the lake.

To one side of the kitchen, there was a small bathroom and to the other a bedroom with two beds and two closets built into the wall. On the floor by one of the beds there was a prayer rug and a small incense burner. Oh no religion. Bronson snorted. Okay yeah, that’s probably a bit insensitive. Ahaha whaaat I don’t have trauma.

Bronson left the bedroom, put his newly acquired books on the bookshelf and started putting his things away. By the time he was done tiredness was beginning to gnaw on the edge of his bones. The space was way bigger than it had any right to be. They didn’t even fit the building and there was something deeply unsettling about university accommodation that didn’t feel like a coffin.

It was much more spacious than he’d anticipated though that seemed to be a virtue of some kind of magical enchantment, rather than actually affording real space. The dimensions of the building couldn’t justify the amount of space. Nice uni accommodation just feels wrong somehow.

Bronson sat down in one of the sofa chairs and began to read. He’d finished his first and was half way through the second when he heard the lock on the front door click and looked up to see a sweaty Abrax stumble in across the threshold.

Abrax is the Thalsian? “You’re Abrax?”

“You’re my roommate?”

Abrax sounded just as surprised as Bronson felt, he knew that it wasn’t that unlikely that he’d share a tutor with his roommate, but it hadn’t thought the quiet guy next to him might be the same quiet guy Victoria had mentioned. “You can put in for a room change if you want.”

Bronson rolled his eyes. “I’m not scared of you.”

Abrax shook his head and wandered into the kitchen. “Whatever.”

Bronson continued reading in the chair for a while longer before heading to bed.

Let my inner light shine out. As he cast the incantation he made sure to visualise only a small light enough to read by but no brighter. Half an hour later Abrax came in, undressing to a pair of boxers, surprisingly similar to what Bronson was used to from Earth and crawled into bed.

A few minutes later another wave of pain crested and Jem flinched, sending the light guttering.

Without warning Abrax threw a pillow at him, knocking his book out of his hands. “You keep saying you’re not afraid but you keep flinching while I’m around.”

Bronson threw it back. “Shut up. Who's say I'm afraid of you, maybe I’m afraid of your bird sculpture.”

“Oh no, that bird is very much alive. Anyway, he’s nice, you shouldn’t be afraid of him.”

“So I should be afraid of you then?” Bronson asked.

“Good night.”

The bastard said it like that on purpose.

“You made me lose my pain– page dickhead.” He gave up on reading and put the book down allowing the light orb to truly fade.

He took off the brooch and closed his eyes to sleep. Five minutes later Abrax’s breaths grew gentle and slow. It’s actually insulting that he can fall asleep that quickly.

A caw came from their apartment and Bronson put the brooch back on to pull the blankets around himself closer. He rolled over onto his side, away from Abrax.