Lynn

Really, Lynton wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but he was a bit disappointed. In his head, he’d had this idealized version of the Keepers: Studious scholars who devoted their lives to learning and teaching whilst they abstained from the pettier pursuits of man. Alas, it couldn’t be further from the truth: Lynton was facing down some in-the-flesh bullies. Actual bullies. What is this? Some sort of parody of real life?

It was easy to tell that the two who were accosting him were also newly minted acolytes. Their garish orange robes gave it away. Clearly these two were trying climb the social rigging whilst simultaneously booting him down a few ratlines. To do this, they’d put on a farce of an intimidation routine. It wasn’t working. Instead of being scared, Lynn was just incredulous. He’d hoped to leave this type of stuff behind him and where it belonged: on the school playground. Some losers are trying to threaten me? Please.

Lynton politely excused himself from the duo and walked away, much to their consternation. A few more insults were flung, but Lynn wasn’t listening. In truth, Lynn though, It’s not completely undeserved. People like him—Inheritors—with wealthy families and rich backgrounds could pay to go to become an Acolyte of the Keep, regardless of academic prowess. For many other Inheritors, being an acolyte of the Keep for a couple years and maybe graduating to scholar was just part of what it took to get ready for “cultured” society. Not for Lynton though. He’d come to the Keep on his own merits, and his frankly ridiculous score on the entrance exam had guaranteed him a spot.

Still, despite the scholarship which came with his exceptional grade, Lynton had to accept his father’s “aid” in the form of sponsoring him a solo room. All the other non-wealthy Acolytes bunked four to a room while he luxuriated in a closet-sized 14 sqm private room. He wasn’t that unhappy about it; after all, sharing a room with three other strangers sounded like a nightmare. The biggest disadvantage was that it made him feel left out. After all, shared-room horror stories were part of the acolyte experience.

Remembering that he had an appointment, Lynn consulted his map, and started to head towards the administrative section of the Keep. Luckily everything was well labeled despite the Keep being a veritable labyrinth of hallways, tunnels, alcoves, rooms, and labs. Sure, without a map, he’d be hopelessly lost in a few steps, but with the map, he could easily navigate. This was just one of the inconsistencies that Lynn noticed since arriving here. Many parts of the Keep’s construction were completely alien or nonsensical. Perfect example: the positioning of hallways and rooms was just off. What type of deluded architect would ever draft such a maze? It all made no sense, connected in non-intuitive ways, and without a map, getting lost was all but guaranteed.

On the other hand, the maps and the numbering system were an example of scholarly brilliance and efficiency. Simply by reading the five-symbol tag adorning any door, one could instantly localize oneself on the map. Even more usefully, the map was easy to read and only covered a single page of paper. To avoid the difficulties associated with making maps for multiple levels and requiring people to figure out which staircase led to where, the designers of the map had created a topological schematic representation of the entire Keep. This meant that the map was wildly inaccurate for location and scale purposes, but it made finding the path to any destination easy.

This peculiarity with the construction and the maps meant that most people still used the map to get around well into their scholar’s years. In fact, it was said that one had truly only become a keeper when one was able to navigate the entirety of the keep without one. Lynton wasn’t sure if he’d ever get there, but he could see the advantages. If one had a complete mental picture of every hall, passage, and trapdoor in the keep, it would be possible to traverse it far faster than anyone with a map. In fact, many routes that adorned the map didn’t describe the fastest ways between destinations. With proper knowledge, shortcuts were almost always possible.

Mind still picking at the gordian knot that was the Keep’s topology, Lynton arrived at his destination: the office of Elder Inninyll. Lynn gripped his orange robes, pulled them up a bit, and started to climb the steep and narrow spiral staircase. Two revolutions later, he encountered a thick door, knocked, and was then called to “Enter” by an aged but still strong voice. With only a tiny bit of trepidation, Lynton opened the door and entered the Elder’s domain.

As soon as he stepped into the room, he understood why the domiciles of the Elders were often called the “wizard towers”. The brief view he cast through a tall and slit-like window gave him a commanding view of the Keep and the island below. Where the rounded wall of the circular room wasn’t sporting windows, ceiling-height bookshelves had settled themselves. Further contributing towards the wizardly atmosphere, strange brass and glass devices were haphazardly spread across worktables or on spindly tripods. Finally, there was the wizard, no, the Elder. The woman, Elder Inninyll, sure fit the picture. Long but white hair was swept back over her head and a relaxed smile shone on her face.

Lynton found it hard to guess the woman’s age. Sure, she looked somewhere slightly older than the average adult, but then again, most people stopped visibly aging past forty or so. There was one exception though, the eyes. As Lynton’s eyes briefly locked with those of the Elder, he began to get a true idea about the woman’s age. Her smile hardly creased the faint wrinkles on her face, but the eyes were full of depth and experience. They were the eyes of someone who’d seen a lot.

She stood, dark maroon robes flowing down to the floor, and extended her hand in greeting.

“Welcome, welcome. It’s good to meet you Mr. Declan.”

Lynton took the proffered hand, stammered out a reply, was given a solid handshake, and then was directed to have a seat in front of the desk. They both sat and the elder intertwined her fingers on the desk before her.

“First of all, what are your thoughts of the keep so far? Have you settled in well?”

Lynton reflected on the past four weeks and considered his reply before answering.

“So far, I’ve been enjoying my enrollment as an Acolyte. Mostly, I’m glad that the material we’re working on is challenging compared to what I was doing in school. The only thing is…” Lynn cut off what he was about to say. Something about the Elder was just disarming.

The Elder nodded and gestured for him to go on. Lynn considered, what he had been about to say might be a bit unpolitic but, well, Elder Inninyll doesn’t seem like the stuck-up type.

“…I don’t know, I expected my fellow students to be a bit more mature maybe? I’m not quite sure if this is the right way to put this, but I’d hoped to leave playground-level conflicts behind me...” Lynn trailed off and watched the Elder.

She, in response, gave a light chuckle. Still slightly amused, she said, “Ah, I’m glad you’re being candid Mr. Declan—”

“Please, you can call me Lynton”

“—Lynton. I think I’ll let you in on a little secret, even if it’s one you probably don’t want to hear.” Conspiratorially, Inninyll lowered her voice slightly and leaned forwards, “It never goes away. What do you think we Elders do all day in or exclusive councils and closed-door meetings? Work together in harmonious accord? Pah! It’s all bickering, passive aggressiveness, and thinly veiled insults all day.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The Elder leaned back into her chair again, waited a beat, and then continued at a regular volume again, “Anyways, Lynton, you’re probably wondering why you’re here. The reason is: I’d like to ask you a few questions.” Inninyll gave a short pause, deinterlaced her fingers, and then continued, “Since I think you’re the type of person who would respond well to straightforwardness, I’m just going to go ahead and tell you that this is a job interview.”

“Ok… You’re right, I do appreciate you being candid, Elder, but I’m reasonably certain that I never applied for any job.”

“This interview is for isn’t one that anyone can just apply to. The jobs that this interview can lead to are exclusive and basically invite only—” seeing the question on Lynton’s lips, Inninyll cut him off before he could ask, “—and no, I won’t tell you what possible positions you’re interviewing for at the moment. Are you interested?”

Lynton let the question die in his throat and thought about what the Elder had said. Quickly, he put together the clues. First, Inninyll had said that this interview was invite-only. Secondly, she’d told him that the interview wasn’t for a specific job but rather offered multiple possible jobs, presumably depending on his answers. Obviously, the situation he was in was the first step in ascending the ranks of Keepers. But why me? Sure, his grades were good. Also, he had an influential family, but that shouldn’t count for anything among the Keepers, right?

“Yes, Elder, I’m interested.”

The older woman cracked a small smile and said, “Excellent” before fishing out a notepad and a pen.

“First, lets get started with the basics. The format here will be quite standard. I’ll ask you some questions and you’ll answer them. After that—if I’m satisfied of course—I’ll give you some offers, and you’ll get the chance to ask some questions yourself before choosing to accept or decline any possible offers. Got it?”

Lynn nodded in affirmation, and the interview started in full swing. First, the Elder asked Lynn all sorts of questions about his childhood, school education, and some of the other details were on his application. Then questions shifted to something that Lynn would describe as a skill evaluation. Inninyll asked questions about mathematics, science, and even some oddball questions starting at school difficulty levels and rapidly ramping up to where he was currently as an Acolyte and beyond. Absentmindedly, Lynton also noticed how fast the elder was when it came to mathematics. She’d pen down an equation for him to solve or a string of computations to preform and with superhuman speed she was somehow able to divine which answers were right and wrong. Maybe she does this interview so often she’s got all the answers memorized?

Finally, the elder cleared away the small stack of papers that they’d filled with computations and settled herself upright in her chair. Then, she asked her next question.

“What drives you Lynton? More specifically, why did you come to the Keepers?”

Lynton was about to answer this question with some generic answer when something in his subconsciousness called a time-out. Stifling any rote answers, he paused to think. That last question was different, it was asked with a certain weight. Clearly, we’re approaching the end of the interview. I’ve verified that I am who I write that I am, I’ve demonstrated my skills, and now she wants to know my mind. This is probably the make-or-break question.

Collecting his thoughts, he considered what approach he should take. Of course, he’d been coached on all sorts of interpersonal strategies, some of them specifically for interviewing, but he didn’t think that any of those pre-prepared gambits would work in this situation. Even if they did, they probably weren’t the answers that the Elder wanted. She wasn’t going to be impressed if he told her something his father would want him to say, something like, “What drives me? Well that’s a good question you’ve asked there, and It’s one that I’ve thought long and hard about. In fact, I’d say the source of my motivation comes from…” and then he’d go on to pontificate about “family honor”, “duty”, and “service to our people” or some other nonsense. But that’s not me, and it clearly wasn’t what the Elder wanted to hear.

Come to think of it, Lynn didn’t know all too much about the Elder who he’d spent the past hour with. Despite the lack of information, there is one thing: So far, she’s been straightforward and seems to appreciate that I am. Approach now decided on, Lynn took deep breath, collected his thoughts, and then began.

“One of my drivers—my motivations—is my Father, but not in the traditional sense. All my life, he’s prepared me for this role; he’s been trying to shape me into what he wants: the perfect son, an heir, a proper Inheritor. But honestly, I don’t want to be that. I despise the idea of it. I don’t want to lead a house, forge deals, and make polite conversation with political enemies. I want my future decided by myself, and my father has led me to realize that.”

“My second reason, and why I’ve decided to become a Keeper is because I think that it’s the right life for me. I’ve always loved solving problems, puzzling out esoterica, and in general becoming a better version of myself.”

“Now, I haven’t been among the Keepers for all to long, but so far it’s been the best time of my life. The lectures, the libraries, everything, it just fits. As silly or basic as it sounds, learning is my passion, and it’s something that I can imagine myself doing for the rest of my life.”

Lynn finished his answer and the room fell silent. The evaluating Elder tracked her eyes back and forth between Lynton’s now somewhat flushed face and the notes that she’d jotted down during the interview. Half a minute passed like this; the silence only broken by the clicking of some mechanism in the room. Then, Inninyll came to a decision. She closed her notepad, laid it on the desk, and then placed her hand on top. With a predatory smile, she locked her eyes on Lynton’s and then gave him the verdict.

“Congratulations Lynton Declan you’ve qualified for two jobs. I was expecting something interesting from you, but I wasn’t sure if you were the right person for what I have in mind. After all, it’s not everyday that someone’s academics are as good as yours—and don’t tell anyone I told you this—but your examination results put every single one of the other acolytes in your year to shame. If I include your status as an Inheritor, you stand out even more.”

“This isn’t a secret, but Inheritors are usually the worst students. Rich parents pave the way for their offspring with money, the brats walk around with the orange robes for two years, and then they go back to cocktail parties and whatever the young and affluent spend their time doing.”

“You, however, appear to be different. You’re blazingly smart and have everything an Inheritor could want—a guaranteed path to house patriarch in a wealthy and influential house. Yet despite this, you seem rather devoted to this idea of becoming a proper Keeper.”

The elder leaned forwards, and continued, “I like what you’ve shown and I would like you to be my apprentice.”

Returning to her regular sitting posture, the elder once again interlaced her fingers and then asked, “Well, what do you think?”

Lynton was shocked. He’d expected to become some sort of group leader or maybe designated chalkboard eraser, not a direct apprentice to one of the twelve Elders. Sure, Inninyll was “only” a capital “E” Elder, not the one and only capital “T”, capital “E” The Elder, but still. Wait, didn’t she say jobs, plural?

Lynton asked for clarification, “Sorry, but didn’t you say jobs, not job?”

Inninyll laughed, and said, “Well sure, technically everyone who even gets invited to this interview is already guaranteed the job of ‘class assistant’, but that’s mostly so people don’t feel let down if they aren’t offered something at the end of the interview.”

“That said, I’m going to assume that your dream isn’t to become a glorified chalkboard eraser and paper-passer-outer. Still, if you don’t want to be my apprentice, that offer’s still on the table.”

Lynton considered, and then asked his second question, “Ok, I understand that I’ve got exceptional grades and an unorthodox background, but I’ve only been here for a month. Now, I’m not trying to talk you out of your offer, but wouldn’t something like becoming your apprentice be something that happens a bit later? Wouldn’t it be something that happens to scholars or second-year Acolytes at least?”

The Elder sighed, and suddenly looked a bit older before replying, “Truly, you’re not wrong. This is somewhat unorthodox, but I’ve got a variety of reasons for doing so now. Primarily—and this might be disappointing for you to hear—the upper levels of the Keepers are just as fraught with politics as the Inheritors are. I try to keep out of it but even I can’t avoid the factions, the schemes, and the voting blocs for much longer. Usually, specific factions or Elders start snatching up allegiances among the acolytes once the chaff has been sifted out. That’s typically halfway through the first year. You, who I see as something of a kindred soul, are quite the catch. You’re skilled with a proper family name, and I thought it best to rescue you before you get blindsided and fall to the depredations of Keeper politics.”

“Of course, you can have some time to think about it, or ask more questions, but you can also give me your answer know if you would like.”

Lynn’s head was swimming with questions, but he knew one thing clearly: this wasn’t the type of offer he would turn down. Taking “some time to think about it” wouldn’t change his answer. Opportunity had presented itself, and Lynn was ready to seize it.

“I’d be honored to become your apprentice, Elder Inninyll.”