“I’ll get it!” Micah called as he barrelled down the stairs. The knocking stopped. Or maybe he just couldn’t hear it over his own noise anymore.
“No, I’ll get it!” David called. “Micah! Stop!”
“No, I’ll— Oh, wait. There’s no way I’m standing up,” Noelle mumbled from her seat.
Living with them for almost a month now, Micah had learned David had one weird quirk, and one only: He always insisted on answering the door. Micah didn’t know why, but he was determined to get there first at least once before he left.
This time, he was quick enough, took the last four steps in a leap, and stumbled up with one hand on the doorknob. He tore it open, slightly out of breath, as David got there after him.
Victory! He smiled. “Hello?”
“Hi, is Micah there?” a young man asked him. Twenty or thereabouts. He had short hair and an untucked shirt. His smile was hesitant. Not a salesman, then? He wasn’t tidy enough to be a priest.
“I’m Micah.”
“I’m David. Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m Odis, but that won’t matter in a moment. You aren’t planning on going anywhere, say, in the next hour or so?”
“Uhm, no?” That was a weird question.
“Alright. Good day.”
“Excuse me, was there something you wanted?” David asked him, but the guy was already wandering down the street, ignoring them. He passed a chain of people and cut ahead of a slower couple, disappearing in the distance.
“Who was it?” Noelle called from the kitchen.
“I don’t know,” David said, closing the door with a frown. “Some guy. He was probably lost.”
“Odis,” Micah offered with a frown. He thought he’d seen him around before. Hadn’t he knocked a few days ago? No, it must have been someone else or he would have been more sure.
“Was that his name?” David asked, scratching his head as he wandered into the kitchen.
Micah joined them, glad to have an excuse to take a break. His head felt light and spinney. Everything felt light and spinney. He was pretty sure he was out of mana or getting close, soon.
Lisa was busy again today, doing who-knew-what, so Micah couldn’t go into the Tower at all. He’d tried to get other people to go with him on days like this—Ed, David, Lang, Finn, Mave, Garen, even Janet—but they were always busy or didn’t want to go for fear their parents would kill them rather than the monsters. Or, well, some declined without being busy.
Micah was afraid to sign up with a group of strangers and didn’t want to sign up at the Chores Office—either option would be too binding. He spent the time practicing instead. He was so close, he thought. He couldn’t wait until he saw Lisa next to show off.
He poured himself a glass of water while David went back to massaging his wife’s feet. They talked about Ryan coming home tomorrow, finally, and what kind of Skills he might have gotten. Life was strange without him. Less exciting and more “cooped up in a room practicing spells all day long.”
Micah had talked to other people … maybe once every two days in the last two weeks. Not counting David, Noelle, and his family at the bathhouse, of course. But thinking of the bathhouse—
“I’m so going to drag him to the bathhouse,” Micah said. “He’ll stink. He hates stuff that stinks.”
“Does he?” Noelle asked.
“Ditto,” David said. “On the bathhouse. He’ll want a hot bath himself. Or a cold one … Or a cold one?” He squinted and shook his head. “We could eat, too. Make it a thing.”
“And I’ll be alone?” Noelle asked.
“You could invite some friends?”
His wife didn’t bite. She stretched her head to face Micah. “Why does your brother-in-law not offer mixed baths again?”
“Because, his Nana says you’re not allowed to see the other bits unless you’re married or a doctor,” he echoed dutifully. “You could ask Prisha if they’ll add a mixed section someday, but I think Neil will respect his grandma’s wishes.”
Especially since she wasn’t going to be around to make new ones for much longer. Micah hated the thought. It made him want to try and make a longevity potion, his mind and Skills deluding him that it was possible.
“Hrm.”
“Or we could rent a private room?” David asked.
She seemed to like that idea better.
There was another knock on the door. Two knocks in one afternoon? Three, counting Noelle. Micah took a hesitant step towards it and glanced at David.
He sighed. “Go.”
Noelle looked smug that he didn’t stop the massage.
Yay. Micah opened the door and froze.
Ms. Denner stood there. Glasses—Mr. Zayer—at her side. A coach out of place behind them. The horses were intimidating but the driver familiar. He had a black coach’s vest thrown over an untucked shirt, haphazardly. Short hair. Something …
“Hello, Micah,” Ameryth said, tearing his attention to her.
He didn’t know his own voice could go that high when he squeaked, “He—” It wasn’t really a word.
She raised an eyebrow.
He thought about slamming the door. Hadn’t they said they would send their offers in the mail? Since when did school representatives show up unannounced like this? But if they were here … They wouldn’t show up just to reject him, would they? Forget rude, that would be cruel. Unless they thought it polite to reject him in person? Maybe they wanted to scout him for next year?
“Hi,” he tried again.
“May we come in?”
He panicked. “No.”
She raised the other eyebrow as well.
“I mean, yes. I mean, I’m not sure. I wouldn’t want to impose on Mr. and Mrs. Payne, ma’am. She just got home and he’ll have to leave soon, and, uhm, they’re very busy. If we could speak someplace else?”
Micah wasn’t in the best condition to speak himself. He was wearing the same undershirt to train in as yesterday and wasn’t even sure it was his. Probably not, guessing by how its sleeves reached almost to his waist. They, on the other hand, both looked like councilmen.
“Do you have someplace else to speak?” she asked. “I really wouldn’t want to impose on their evening. We could take the coach.” She gestured behind herself. “Maybe your parents’ house?”
His heart sunk. “You need to speak with my parents?”
“Oh, no, I don’t need to. I would just much rather impose on them.”
Micah started breathing again. Her kind of humor was going to get him killed, someday.
David placed a hand on the door above him and opened it wider. “Ms. Denner. Good afternoon. I wasn’t aware that you made housecalls.”
She gave him an inspecting glance before saying, “You must be Mr. Payne. It’s nice to meet you. I’m doing the rounds today, to see some families I would feel remiss to send a simple letter to, and yours in one of those. I brought a friend as well.” She gestured at Registrar Zayer.
He inclined his head. “Hello, Mr. Stranya. Mr. Payne.”
“Hello.”
“Hi,” Micah piped up.
“Even so, it would have been nice for you to write ahead,” David said.
Micah tilted his head back a fraction. He could hear Noelle cleaning up clutter in the kitchen. This was rude, wasn’t it?
Ameryth smiled. “To be honest, Micah’s responses during our last talk seemed a little … pre-prepared. The Registry wanted to speak with him anyway and I do want to meet with some of my applicants, so I tagged along and convinced poor Mr. Zayer to make it a surprise.”
David crossed his arms. “Aha. And you wish to speak with Micah because …?”
She made an expression of fake confusion. “We did say we were going to make offers in two to three weeks, did we not?” One of her hands slipped into a side-pouch of her briefcase and pulled out an envelope.
Micah’s eyes went wide. “Wait, so—”
She held the envelope out to him. “Here’s our offer.”
He hesitantly took it, glancing at her and David in turn, and took a step back to grope around for the letter opener on the cabinet. He slipped the envelope open and pulled out the folded papers, skipping right to the beginning of the text.
Dear Mr. Stranya,
I am pleased to inform you that we have accepted your application—
It was an acceptance letter. That was all he needed to know. Three pages long with a bunch of extra information, but an acceptance letter at heart. “Yes! Yes! Thank you. Thank you so much, ma’am,” he rambled, shaking her hand.
“You’re very welcome,” she said. “Does your excitement mean you intend to accept our offer?”
“Y—”
David shoved a rough hand over Micah’s mouth and pushed him back a little while he struggled to free himself. He’d massaged Noelle’s feet with that hand. Ew. “Hang on, you came to personally hand over his acceptance letter, ma’am? That’s very nice of you, but we will, of course, have to discuss his options with Micah before he can give any kind of reply.”
She didn’t miss a beat, nodding. “Of course, of course. That is why I’m here. You will notice he only received an acceptance letter?”
Micah stopped clawing at David’s hand and glanced at the letter. Three pages. Congratulations and information. Nothing else. He glanced back up at Ms. Denner. Yeah?
She looked apologetic. “I’m sorry to say we will not be able to offer you any kind of scholarship, Mr. Stranya.”
Oh. There was the catch.
“Aside from the business with the Registry, we, the both of us”—she gestured at Glasses—”came here today to discuss his options despite that.”
David sighed and let go of him. Micah wiped his mouth off, and they stepped aside to open the door wider. “Please, come in.”
In the kitchen, Micah set the kettle on the stove while the guests introduced themselves to Noelle. He caught Ameryth looking around, discreetly inspecting the house when she wasn’t talking.
“Again, I’m sorry about showing up unannounced and interrupting your afternoon.”
“I appreciate it,” Noelle said, a lesson his parents had taught him as well. “I’m assuming you’re here to convince Micah to attend your school?”
Ameryth smiled. “Yes, and …” She frowned and glanced at the ceiling, as if she could look through it. “Uhm, is your other son not home?”
“He’s on a camping trip,” Noelle told her. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Ah. A shame. I haven’t had the opportunity to meet him yet. I would have wanted to speak with him as well concerning our offers and other matters. Tell me, Ryan doesn’t also have problems with speaking in front of large crowds, does he?” She fished around in her briefcase again as she spoke and pulled out two more letters, putting them on the table for Noelle.
David brought a fifth chair in from outside at the same time and tried to squeeze it in at the table, so Micah could sit, later. “Who, Ryan?”
“Not that I would know of,” Noelle said as she took the letters, but didn’t move to open them. Didn’t she want to know what kind of offers her son had gotten? “But why the ‘also’?”
“Excuse me?”
“You asked if he also had problems with speaking in front of large crowds.”
“Oh, just because young Mr. Stranya here apparently does.” Ameryth nodded in his direction as Micah brought her the glass of water on a coaster. He set down three more coasters for the others, Mr. Zayer nodding in thanks, and asked them what kind of tea they would like. On his way back, he glanced at his own open letter lying on the table every now and then.
He’d been accepted! That was great, but … Micah owned a little over three gold coins, the “little” of which he had saved up again while Ryan was gone. The tuition for one year costed five gold coins, not counting books and supplies. Where was he going to get the rest in time?
He was beginning to think this wasn’t entirely great news after all. Without meaning to, Micah had slacked off. On earning money, not training.
“Ah, Ryan did mention that,” Noelle said. “Did you want him to hold a speech or some such?” She seemed to catch onto something. “Oh, did our Ryan do well enough to speak at the opening ceremony?”
Ameryth nodded with a smile and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting in her seat. “If he were to attend, then yes, that would be a possibility. But one I would rather discuss with him personally.”
“Why did you ask about Micah then, ma’am?” David asked as he put the last of the clutter away and sat down himself, a big grin on his face. “Did Micah do well enough to be a consideration?”
“He did.”
Micah spun around. “I did?”
“It wasn’t the entire performance we were considering. We were just looking for specific qualities. Your performance during the third exam was exceptional enough that we were considering it.”
“It was?”
“Of course,” Mr. Zayer spoke up for the first time in the conversation. “You brought us a new type of monster for a school entrance exam, young man. You ranked first place.”
Micah needed a moment to process that, but he didn’t quite manage. Instead, he asked, “What?” The kettle whistled and he absent-mindedly began filling the cups up as the others spoke.
Ameryth was giving the Registrar a look like she’d rather not he’d said that. “Don’t tell anyone,” she told Micah. “We want to keep the final ranking under wraps until the school year starts.”
“What?” he repeated.
“Congratulations, Micah,” David told him, grinning. He reached over to give him a slap on the shoulder.
“Congratulations,” Noelle echoed and turned on Ameryth with an excited smile. “How well did our son rank? During this third exam, I mean. I want to be able to tell him tomorrow.”
“Third place, actually,” Ameryth told her, drinking her water while Micah set the cups on coasters.
Third place?
“He managed to bring us one of every crystal available within the first three miles of the first three floors, something many other students attempted in various forms, but none achieved to the same degree that he had. His essay was very well-written as well. It was easy to see that he puts a lot of effort into his studies.”
“And second place?” David asked.
“Will not be invited to speak in front of the crowd.”
“What did they do?”
Micah sat down with his own glass from earlier.
Ameryth seemed to weigh her head, thinking about whether or not she should share, but then she told them, “A young man brought us four different treasure chests. Without subterfuge, I might add. The sheer volume and some of their contents forced us to give him second place, though it was luck by his own admittance. We will not invite someone to speak in front of the crowd about luck alone.” She scoffed and glanced at Micah. “That isn’t the message we want to open with, not that you should discount luck as a climber, of course. But manipulating your fortunes through hard work? That we could have spun into a good speech. But then you yourself said you’re afraid of public speaking, Mr. Stranya, and—
Well, we have many other candidates we’re considering, even if your son happens to decline or doesn’t choose to attend at all. I just thought I would extend the offer.”
Micah imagined speaking in front of five-hundred people, adding on their parents, staff, maybe other representatives. It would easily come to two thousand again, like during the third exam. Speaking in front of that crowd? He couldn’t imagine anyone doing that, let alone himself.
“I really do appreciate it,” Noelle said, looking happier than ever. “We’ll be glad to pass it along.”
“Ah,” Ameryth spoke, squinting a little in hesitation, “but keep in mind my … eccentricities. I read a Registrar report on a conversation your Ryan had with his judges after the final exam, but didn’t have the opportunity to see if for myself. Tell him I would want to pick that conversation up again during the speech, if he happens to agree. He will know what I am speaking of. It’s his choice.”
Noelle hesitated for a moment, confused, but her smile remained when she nodded. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”
Micah frowned himself. And he was going to be sure to ask Ryan what Ameryth was talking about. He had said nothing interesting had happened during his exam, even if Micah hadn’t believed him. What gives?
“But enough about Ryan,” Ameryth said and turned to Micah, surprising him, “nothing against Ryan, of course, but if he isn’t here, we’re here for you. And, have you been practicing on your Path properly, young man?”
“I have!” he blurted out. “Uhm, I mean, not enough to get a Skill, but I’ve been practicing spellcraft using essences. Somewhat blindly.” Mostly blind, and with the help of his book and one conversation he’d had with Lisa.
“He has,” David backed him up. “Every day.”
“Anything you can show us?”
“I— Oh, uhm, I would need a prop. Can I go…?” He gestured upstairs.
“Be quick,” Noelle told him and Micah tried to appear as composed as possible as he speedwalked out of the room.
Upstairs, the first thing he did was wash his hands and face and brush down his clothes a little, adjust his hair. He couldn’t see his cologne lying around anywhere, so he used his deodorant, grabbed his filter stone, and ran back downstairs, hair and face still a little damp.
“A filter stone?” Ameryth asked as he sat back down, slightly out of breath.
“Yeah. Uhm, watch?”
They watched.
He calmed his breathing first, then his mind as much as he could, considering the circumstances. His fingers were splayed over the clustered stone to leave it open to the air, and he held the bottom end over his glass. His other hand Micah held to the side of his first, slightly cupped.
Slowly, he found his own mana and visualized it. He could feel it now, dimly. Lisa had told him mana was a force of possibilities, Camille that hers was green and like a memory, but Micah’s was neither.
It felt deep, heavy, slow, like a stream in the Winter. When he moved it on his own, it almost felt like he was pushing a weight through his body. That helped him find it.
Slowly, he redirected a part of the stream to his right hand and pushed against a palpable pressure there until mana trickled through and into the stone he held, taking the path of least resistance through its pores.
It immediately tried to cast [Infusion].
Like wrenching his head, Micah wrenched his mind away. He didn’t have enough mana left to waste on mistakes. Instead, he forced the mana into a ring shape, then dragged that shape down the stone. He wanted it to slowly flood it and run down its sides like water into a pipe.
Mana over the stone from his hand and mana taking the path of least resistance made a funnel … of sorts. Lisa told him his mana manipulation looked a lot like what a four-year-old might make at a pottery lesson. With his other hand, he pushed another trickle of mana into the shape to make it spiral.
Slowly, the stone’s essence tainted the funnel from end to start with river themes and—
Water essence gathered as condensation built and trickled down. Slow at first. Then quicker. A few drops fell together and bore on one another. A single one ran down its length and hung on the edge before it fell into the glass below. Then one, two, four more followed, trickling down in groups.
The stone was dripping like he’d picked it out of the rain. His unnamed version of [Condense Water]. Magic.
It was maybe two or three tablespoons of water by the time he stopped. The essence was beginning to thin in the air around him, revealing the thinning humidity. Micah could make more than just a tablespoon, had he more of it and his own mana, but he didn’t. Light and spinney head became light and spinney bones, as if he had the flu. It wasn’t pleasant. It made him feel vulnerable, and Micah knew from experience that it only made spellcasting harder.
“Oh. You meant that kind of essence use,” Ameryth said, snapping his attention back to the room. How long had that taken? A minute? More? “Hm. Well, progress is good. You will need to build a foundation first, I imagine, before you can study more.”
Micah put the crystal down and tried not to rub his neck. “Uhm, yes, ma’am.” He’d seen it that way, too, all week. Now, he felt like he hadn’t practiced nearly enough. He still couldn’t do it without the stone. At all. That wasn’t good. Each time he used it, the spell used up a bit of its essences. The more it declined, the quicker it would decline until it broke apart.
“You’re doing great, Micah,” Noelle told him. “It takes most [Mages] months to learn a new spell on average, especially in the beginning. You still have half a month less than ‘months’ time left.”
He smiled. Right.
Stolen story; please report.
… But how cool would it be if he got there even quicker? It might make them proud, both Noelle and her husband. Proud like they were of Ryan. And it would please Ameryth, if she had reason to care after this afternoon.
“So, you wanted to talk about offers,” Noelle said, turning to her.
“Exactly.”
She went for her bag again, pulling out a neat pile of papers clipped together at the top and handed it over to Micah. “I’m aware that you’re considering other schools? It’s unfortunate that Ryan isn’t here. Despite your answer during the interview, I believe his opinion will play a large role in whether or not you accept our offer. But this is information on the alchemy workshop we intend to offer.”
Micah peeked at the pile of papers, noticed Noelle leaning over, and slid it over for her to see.
“Schools that offer alchemy courses often offer a monthly budget to their more advanced students to buy their own ingredients to work with. Now, we plan to offer such a budget to all our workshoppers, but as an alternative to the normal hand-held practical alchemy courses, in line with our beliefs of self-training.”
Ryan’s parents both frowned.
“Alongside our other two theory courses, of course,” Ameryth quickly assured them. “We simply want to give them freedom to experiment.”
Micah liked the sound of that.
“If you accepted, you would attend a supervised workshop once a week and receive such a budget, not unlike any other extracurricular. See, here … and consider the break periods here.”
They both followed her as she flipped the pages and pointed at a table. She was offering twenty-four iron coins at certain intervals, after the first month had passed, totalling one-hundred and sixty-eight iron coins over the school year. That was almost three-fourths of a gold coin.
Uhm … exactly fourteen percent of the tuition? Micah thought. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed thereabouts.
So he would just have to spend two hours a week practicing his alchemy under supervision to lower his tuition by fourteen percent? Micah glanced up at Ameryth. It sounded too good to be true.
“Of course, you would need to offer detailed reports and receipts of what you do with that budget. Your supervisor or other specific staff members may add regulation as well. It would not be autonomous.”
“Of course,” Micah said, almost relieved. That made more sense. He was going to put the time into his alchemy one way or another, all this locked down was the when of it and that he had to put in an extra hour or two writing reports. It seemed doable.
Noelle dragged the paper a little closer and leafed through it, finding something she must have been looking for. “‘We reserve the right to rescind this budget if the student breaks any school regulations or we are dissatisfied with the results of its usage.’ Dissatisfied, how?” she asked.
Micah leaned over to see the quote himself. There seemed to be a whole page of rules in small script.
He looked up. “Do I need to come up with new potions all the time?”
Ameryth smiled, looking a little relieved. “No, you just always need to have a good reason for what you’re doing. For example, even just making healing potions—following a strict recipe, of course—for the school may be enough, if you have nothing else to do with the budget for that month. It gives you experience and we can strike those potions from our shopping list.”
He nodded. That made more sense.
“But between you and me,” she added, “we do want to see you get creative. Perhaps something similar to those priming exercises of your ‘own design’ that you mentioned? And maybe in tangent with your [Essence Path]?”
He nodded again. He could do that.
“Now, the interesting part is,” Ameryth went on, “that schools adjust the budgets they offer based on the student receiving them. And if you’ll go back to the table …” She pointed. “We can actually bump Micah up a tier, because of his high level. It also leaves room for him to rise higher.”
Micah looked. It was just two more iron coins, but it was enough to bump the tuition down by another percentage, counted over the entire school year. But … that would be over the entire school year. He looked up from the page and asked, “Just out of curiosity, but, uhm, can anyone tell me how much the school supplies will cost? Books and pens and stuff?”
“It depends on which courses you take and what you buy,” Mr. Zayer spoke up, sipping his tea with one hand supporting the cup whenever he wasn’t.
Ryan’s parents gave him a heavy look before David answered, glancing at their two guests as if asking them as well, “Between a gold coin or two.”
Nobody objected.
Oh. Together with what he still needed … that was the kind of money he’d have to work months for at the Chores Office, not counting expenses. He doubted anyone would hire him for more adult work and wages after all.
He had almost four weeks until school started. Maybe if he found a good treasure chest or hunted things on the fourth floors and upwards …
Ameryth was frowning at him. “You would be able to pay the tuition, wouldn't you?”
No, Micah thought, but said, “I’ll figure something out.” He had things he could sell, his chest, his flask, all of his current ingredients. He could push deeper into the Tower once Ryan got back.
“If not—” she started, but David interrupted her, placing a hand on Micah’s shoulder.
“He’d be able to pay.”
Micah tensed up, but didn’t contradict him in front of the guests.
Ameryth seemed to mull it over for a moment. “Because if not,” she started again, “I actually have something else I meant to use to entice you to apply. Now this might prove to have more of an effect than I had intended. Mr. Zayer?”
“Ah, yes. Of course.” He placed his cup down and went for his own briefcase.
While he searched, Ameryth spoke, “You see, we had to outline a plan for the Climber’s Guild, of things we intended to do, our policies, classes, events, and such. One of them had been meant as a surprise for students who made it into our school, but in edge cases like these, where we want to scout people like Ryan, or you Micah, we are willing to share it early.” She smiled. “We’re planning to give our students their loot back from the entrance exam.”
The loot? Micah perked up at the thought. A treasure chest worth of things to sell …
Mr. Zayer pulled a stack of different things out of his case this time, a binder, a file, and a brown envelope.
“But that creates some issues if you were to attend, Mr. Stranya,” Ameryth said.
He frowned at her.
Mr. Zayer flipped the file and pushed it over and she spoke, “You see, due to legal reasons, the Registry would have to buy the Kobold from you that is currently on our possession.”
“The Kobold? But I thought— Wait, is it still alive?”
“Oh, yes.” Glasses nodded. “The Guild has been putting all their efforts into keeping the specimen alive for study.”
Micah … honestly didn’t know how to feel about that. He asked, “Like, in a cage?”
The man shook his head. “No. It is currently being kept in a what you might call a containment room for certain types of patients in the medical bay. It is much more comfortable than the stony floor of the Salamander’s Den, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Was that what Micah was worried about? He didn’t know. “How long will it survive?” he asked instead.
“By our current estimates? About three more months, depending on if he can find another way to extend the timeframe. We have invited a specialist from Ostfeld to come take a look before then. We’ve found other specimens already, of course, but we can only hold so many and they are rather rare. Having her insight on hand would be valuable for it and future cases.”
“Oh.”
“Now, I do not know if our offer will be enough to solve your financial needs entirely,” Mr. Zayer spoke, tapping the binder. “But along with the award money you will receive for the Kobold’s discovery and the other objects, it might help.”
“I’m sorry? Award money?”
“You found a new type of monster,” the man said, a little surprised. “The Registry has had an ongoing bounty for the discovery of new Skills and monsters for thirty of the forty years it has existed now. As for the latter of the two, you will of course receive an award. Were you not aware of this?”
“I grew up in Westhill,” Micah said, a little stumped. Why had nobody told him? Wait, was this what Mr. Walker had meant when the Registry wanted to speak with him? Micah had thought he’d meant recruitment or something. Active interest, that he might work there for a summer. Not this.
Mr. Zayer handed him a brown envelope and placed a coin purse on the table, saying almost to himself, “The reward for the Climber’s Discovery and retrieval of a live specimen is a silver coin”—he placed it on the table as Micah pulled something out of the envelope—”along with the purchase of the specimen, of course, but that is contingent on your attendance of the school.” He gestured at the larger stack of paper that David was slowly pushing over to his wife to look through. “Please sign here to show you received the award and funds.”
He handed a page and pen over, but Micah was stuck on the single page he had pulled out. It was in the same vein of the framed pages Garen had decorating his wall, on the same fancy paper.
The Registry of Hadica honors the climber Micah Stranya for the discovery of the new species
Firescale Kobold
on the first floor of its Tower.
It had fewer words on a larger space, but it showed the watermark, sigil, and stamp and was signed by half a dozen unreadable names.
He teared up a little. A lot. A bunch. He quickly wiped his eyes, forcing himself to get it together.
Climber Micah Stranya.
If he ever became a successful climber, this would be the first award he had ever received, the first one to decorate a wall like Garen had. “Thank you,” he said and quickly signed the confirmation paper for him, then put the pen on top and shoved it back. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said.
Noelle nudged him and pointed at a line on the other papers they had been given. A gold coin. That was what they were willing to pay for the Kobold. It was a lot for a single monster, but it wasn’t quite enough.
What about the other things he had handed in?
“Uhm, ma’am? What about everything else? The treasure chest, the things inside, the crystals, and, uhm, maybe everything the Kobold had, or is that part of what the Registry wants to buy?”
Mr. Zayer and Noelle both shook their heads.
“We just want the live specimen,” he said. “We have no interest in opening a museum.”
“It says so here,” she told him, pointing at the paper and Micah quickly read the line. They had only received the live specimen. Everything else still belonged to the school.
“Oh. So ... ?”
“The Kobold’s staff conducts mana,” Ameryth told him. “It’s … good for fire spells, and ‘good enough’ for anything else, I would say. For a beginner. The way its crown is shaped is something we refer to as a cradle. It’s like a third hand for many early spells. The daggers and pants aren’t enchanted, and its shirt is resistant to heat and fire.”
Fire resistance shirt? Micah thought. He wanted that, but tried not to show, reminding himself of the poker face. “And the scrolls?”
“One of the scrolls is a painting,” Ameryth told him. “It depicts the Kobold sitting in front of its treasure chest inside the room. It has faint traces of magic. I suspect it was created with magic, but it isn’t enchanted.”
His mind was racing again, but in a good way. “Wait, didn’t Mr. Walker say the seal on the scrolls was new?”
“He did.”
“So … wouldn’t the first painting in line of a new seal go for a lot at an auction, ma’am? For, like, collectors?”
She nodded again, with a sliver of a smile. “It would.”
That put things into a different picture. “And the others?”
“The second scroll depicts a spellscript. Are you aware of the different types of spell writings?”
He shook his head.
“This one is merely descriptive. It tells a [Mage] everything they need to know about the spell’s theory, but it doesn’t help teach them practice. It’s about equal to or slightly inferior to a spell carving.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a wooden carving,” Noelle explained to him, gesturing with her hands as if she were holding one, “that shows you the way you would have to move mana to get the effect you want. There are different types. The most expensive ones I’ve seen are rows of life-sized mannequins made of mana-conducting woods that you show you the spell’s form step-by-step, but they don’t show things like intent or affinities. Usually, there are plaques along with each carving to explain.”
Ameryth nodded. “They’re just one of many, many different teaching tools [Mages] use. This scroll is another. Its images move, but they do not have depth and they do not conduct mana like a spellbook would. The depicted spell is surprisingly complicated for a first-floor find, but it has layers, so I imagine a [Mage] who found it could work their way up to the final product. It’s called [Kobold Fire Seeker]. It summons an arrow made of fire that is attracted to heat.”
Micah’s eyes went wide. “That’s the spell the Kobold used!”
“How can an arrow made of fire be attracted to heat?” David asked. “Wouldn’t it just not work at all?”
“It uses degradation to create an elemental attraction,” Ameryth explained, “but it still needs kinetic energy.”
“That’s third-year stuff,” Noelle commented.
David leaned back with a frown and crossed his arms, resigning himself to the jargon. Micah didn’t understand a word, either.
“To be fair,” Ameryth spoke, almost to herself. “I believe it would also be attracted to things that are sufficiently flammable, like oils. Ah, Micah, you might know this. It’s similar to [Candle].”
Huh? He had no idea what she was talking about.
“To [Candle]?” he asked.
She nodded. “In its targeting.”
Targeting? How did [Candle] target? Somehow, that sounded familiar … Hadn’t Lisa given him a lesson on that once?
“Ah!” he said, remembering their first Tower trip together. “Does it use, uhm, hel— hello— helionic conversion?”
“Helanic conversation,” Ameryth corrected him, looking more surprised than ever.
“Yeah, that one!”
“It’s more helanic attraction, but … how on earth do you know about that?” she asked him. “Did your Path teach you?”
He felt a little embarrassed. “Uhm, no … Lisa Chandler did, ma’am. She said [Candle] senses ‘flammable essences’ and converts them to, uhm, ‘burning essences.’”
… Or something like that. He barely remembered the conversation, but now he was glad he could impress Ameryth. Micah frowned as he realized something. Wait—
“How do you know about it, ma’am?” he asked her. “On that note, how do you know about essences at all?” He hadn’t noticed before, but the only other people he’d met that knew or talked about essences were Lisa and Anne. Was it some kind of secret nobles shared?
“I have a Skill, of course,” she said, “just like you or Ms. Chandler.”
“You do?”
Lisa does?
“Yes. [Helanic Red].”
“A color Skill?” Noelle asked her. “Aren’t you a [Pyromancer], ma’am?”
Micah noticed how both of Ryan’s parents looked unhappy about the prospect of that and realized, having a [Pyromancer] as a principle probably wasn’t the best recommendation for a school. Did they even want Ryan to go there?
He’d never asked.
She shook her head. “It’s a common misconception I like to leave uncorrected. I’m actually a color mage, not a [Pyromancer], Mrs. Payne. Fire isn’t my thing, the color red is, along with all of its helanic kin. Ah, its nearest concepts, you might say.”
Red to rage to force, Micah remembered.
“So you’re like an [Artist]?” Noelle asked her, seeming more open to that idea. “Or maybe a [Pictomancer]?”
She took a sip from her tea.
“I was an [Painter] once, but never a [Pictomancer],” Ameryth said. “I have changed my Class at least a dozen times or so, it’s hard to remember them all. I once had a Class for a single day.”
Noelle smiled. “Tell me about it. I’ve had … eight Classes in total and now I have two, so—”
David cleared his throat.
They looked at him.
He nudged his head at Micah.
Micah sat there awkwardly.
“It would be nice to learn more about our son’s maybe-future-principal,” Noelle complained.
“Ah, I have a pamphlet—” Ameryth said and reached for her briefcase.
Noelle gave her a drole look. “I don’t want your pamphlet.”
Ameryth shrugged, unoffended. “Fair enough.”
“I believe we were talking about loot? Was there anything else you handed in, Micah?”
“Marbles.”
“Ah, yes. Those are enchanted,” Ameryth picked it up. “They have a very weak fire affinity. I’m sure a creative mage could find a use for them, but beyond that, they’re just trinkets. They’re warm to the touch.”
They might make a nice children’s toy then, Micah thought, eyeing Noelle. He knew Ryan was trying to come up with a present to give her. Although … wouldn’t warm marbles just be clammy?
“And of course, there is the chest itself,” Ameryth said. “Salamander wood prices have been steadily increasing ever since the Den collapsed, though they will fall soon, now that the floor has been rediscovered. The same holds true for the crystals you gave us. If you act quickly, I’m sure you could sell it for a handsome sum.”
Micah nodded, mostly to himself.
“How quickly could he receive the items,” David asked her, “if he were to sign up?”
“Normally, on the first day of school,” Ameryth said. “But if you wanted to sell them for tuition fees, you could come to the Guild as early as Wednesday, I believe, to reclaim them. Without mentioning it to anyone else, of course.”
She gave him a pointed look.
Micah nodded. “Of course.”
“Good. You could sign the chest’s contents and the Kobold’s belongings up for the next curiosity auction then, too, but not the chest itself. If you did, you would only receive the sales of those items after you need to have paid the tuition.”
So he would have to get the remaining three-fourth of a gold coin elsewhere or sell the items on his own, not at an auction. Micah knew collectors bought things through private means even more often than auctions, but that could take months until he arranged a meeting. It would be quicker. Selling it anywhere else might not get him as much as he could get.
Either way, he might have to … borrow money. He wanted to groan. He hated this. Maybe he should go to that school in Nistar after all? He’d see Lang much more often, too. But then, he’d be living at Prisha’s …
And either way, now that he knew he could get his loot back, he wanted to. They were his spoils, his belongings. He didn’t want to sell them. He wanted to own them, maybe put them in a nice glass case with a plaque saying where he got them from. But that was a stupid thought, of course.
“This is all, of course, if he were to sign up,” David said, almost like he was reading Micah’s mind.
“Yes, of course.”
For a moment, they just sat there. Noelle gave David a look, but he shrugged and drank his untouched tea instead of responding to it. Noelle sighed and looked like she was about to kick them out when Micah spoke up, in the process in making up his mind, “How much might the painting sell for?”
It seemed to be the most valuable of all the items. It could give him a better idea of what to do.
The two guests looked at each other, deferring to one another. Ameryth chose to answer, “From my experience? The first painting in a line of a new crest from a new type of monster … The bidding would start at two gold coins and, depending on how people value it or were made to value it, could go on indefinitely.”
“I’d appraise its value at about twenty gold coins,” Mr. Zayer said flatly.
David choked on his drink and got into a coughing fit.
Surprised, Noelle started slapping him on the back and Micah asked, “What?”
Just then, someone opened the front door and Ryan called in, “Mom! Dad? I’m—”
He looked into the kitchen, saw the commotion in the kitchen, Mrs. Denner sitting opposite them, and froze.
“... home?”
----------------------------------------
Barry had the bright idea of celebrating Ryan’s new Skills and Class by getting up to some fun, which, in itself, was fine. Ryan was up for fun. He had permission from his parents, too.
What he hadn’t known was that Barry, Mark, and most of their group of friends already had two strikes from other fun stuff they had gotten up to, like stringing a guy’s bedroll up in a tree … with him still sleeping in it, or breaking into the scout master’s lodge to steal his supply of “grown-up juice.”
Apparently, they were known for stuff like that. Last year, they had trapped a guy in a tent with a skunk—Ryan was just grateful they hadn’t done it this year—and convinced a group of newbies that a murderer was in the woods with them, even staging fake victims for them to stumble upon. It had ended with the newbies heroically “apprehending” another scout after discovering, through a week of detective work, that he was the murderer.
So when they had gone skinny-dipping in the river, the guy they had strung up had gotten his revenge by stealing their clothes, and they’d had to run back naked … right into a morning hiking group, and Ryan got caught up in their third strike. Part of the group, part of the punishment.
He got sent home a day early, just in time to miss the second bonfire.
Fucking Barry.
“To be fair,” he explained on their hike back, walking backwards in front of him, “the only reason we got kicked out is because Mr. Schwartz is bringing Joey home early. If he hadn’t broken his arm, they just would have given us a slap on the wrist.”
“Fuck you!” Joey called, arm in a sling. He’d been moody and cursing ever since he broke it.
“Don’t put this on us, Barry,” Mr. Schwartz lectured them, walking ahead. “You dug your own grave and decided it was too cold on your own, so you dragged poor Ryan with you on your way down.”
“He does have that aura of warmth Skill,” Mark commented.
Ryan said nothing.
“Look, I’m sorry, I’ll say it for the twentieth time, man,” Barry said and spread his arms out. “Ridiculously warm hug? No homo, though.”
Ryan pushed past him.
“Don’t be like that, man!” he called after him. “How about— How about we make our own bonfire?”
Ryan slowed down a step, showing weakness.
“Aha! Our own bonfire it is.”
“We stop at night’s rest,” Mr. Schwartz told him. “Not afternoon rest. How are you six going to build a bonfire on your own in an hour?”
“Kendal’s a [Lumberjack],” Barry said, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
“Screw you.”
“Hey, you’re mad at Parker, not at me.”
Parker being the guy who had stolen their clothes.
“Fuck yeah, I’m angry at Parker,” he cursed. “The next time I see that little shit, I’m going to—”
“Plot murder somewhere I can’t hear it!” Mr. Schwartz interrupted them.
Kendal scowled at the man and, in a lower tone, said, “I’m going to throw him off a bridge.”
Barry grinned. “Right on. But until then, wanna let your frustrations out on some trees? We can draw a face on them, let you pretend its him?”
He shrugged. “Whatever, man.”
“Small bonfire it is!”
And a small bonfire it was. A pitiful bonfire. It was basically a campfire with its logs stacked in a square. Ryan still liked it.
“We good?” Barry asked him.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Ryan told him. “Honestly, I’m more annoyed that I got punished for stuff I didn’t do.”
“Of course,” Markus said. “What else would you be angry about?”
He shook his head. “No, I mean, for stuff I didn’t do.”
Barry and a few others caught on with a grin. “Ohh. So you want us to invite you along next time? Yeah, we can do that. So you aren’t angry about missing out on the bonfire?”
“Of course, I am,” Ryan said. “I’m pissed. But … I’m also glad to be going home, you know?”
There was a round of agreement on all sides. After spending two weeks in the wilderness, of course people wanted to go home. They missed their beds, proper food, proper baths, clean clothes. Meals that weren’t meat skewers.
Markus spoke up. “So you are going to join us again next year?”
Ryan thought about it. It had been fun. All of it. The group, the hunting, the climbing, the rowing and swimming, doing most things himself, the scenery, the wildlife—Nikolas assured him he would keep an eye on Osric—even getting kicked out. It was the first time Ryan had gotten into that much trouble, aside from the aftermath of his first brawl. He was a [Scout] now.
He nodded. “Yeah. Definitely, I’m coming along.”
He got a slap on the back and cheers in response.
The next day, they reached the Northern end of Hadica around noon and the first thing they did was besiege a restaurant to buy some food with the emergency money they had brought along or been given by their parents.
It was a weird sight, six guys who looked like they’d just come out of isolation, which they had, with their packs set down next to the table, eating salads, noodles, soups, breadsticks, and deserts—basically anything that wasn’t meat—at a large table in the middle of the room.
Ryan had never known warm bread could taste so good.
They split up after and Ryan headed home. Home. Finally. He didn’t have enough money for a coach or anything, so he walked for a few hours, got lost twice, until he finally found streets he recognized. It was getting late. His dad might not even be home and Micah was probably at the bathhouse, experimenting.
Ryan was just going to drop in and tell his mom everything, then go take a bath and drag Micah home. It sounded like a plan.
He spotted his house, jogged the rest of the way out of excitement, and opened his door, calling, “Mom! Dad? I’m—”
His dad was having a coughing fit in the kitchen, his mom slapping him on the back like she was putting out a fire. Mrs. Denner sat at the table along with a man he didn’t recognize and Micah, who was wearing one of his shirts.
“... home?”
Somehow, Ryan managed to dodge their questions and get them to leave without being too rude. He was tired after all, his dad really had to leave for work, and they both had other appointments to keep. But he had talked for a few minutes with Ms. Denner and gotten the gist of things.
For some reason, after they left, Ryan found a pamphlet titled, Henry & Henrickson sucks. Here’s 10 Reasons Why, lying around. He really wasn’t sure how to feel about that woman’s humor.
A long bath and comfortable bed followed. But something—Ryan kept on tossing and turning on his pillow-- something wasn’t right. He leaned up a little to ask Micah, “Did you sleep in my bed?”
“Huh?” he perked up from where he had lain wide awake, clearly wanting to ask Ryan all about his trip but not wanting to needlessly annoy him, like Ms. Denner had done. “No, I— I might have dozed on it, sometimes. I meditated on it a lot and practiced spells there, but … I didn’t sleep in it.”
“Hm.”
Seeing him there, his sleeveless shirt still visible by his shoulders poking out, a part of Ryan wanted to string him up in a tree. He leaned back and let himself sink into the mattress instead, soft below and ceiling above unlike the rough ground and starry sky. He really was a [Scout], wasn’t he?
“Do you want to?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“Sleep in the bed?”
“Like, now?”
Ryan scowled. “No, not now, of course. Idiot. There’s no way I’m giving up my bed tonight.”
“Oh.”
“I mean, like, we could switch sometime. I just spent two weeks in a bedroll and I’ve been dreaming of my bed for the last few days. You’ve been sleeping on the floor for almost a month, now.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“We’ll switch,” Ryan told him, “sometime. Before we leave.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
They were silent again for a moment before Micah said, “Ryan, I’m going to the climber’s school.”
He nodded.
Apparently, Ms. Denner wanted him to speak at the opening ceremony, too, if he attended. Ryan didn’t know how to feel about that. Excited? Afraid? Should he decline? It would involve him admitting that he had lied to the judges, after all. That didn’t seem like a good idea.
But … he liked her idea. It was daring, needlessly aggressive, and it would set the record straight.
“Just so you know,” Micah went on. “But, uhm, you don’t have to go with if you would rather go to that other school, you know? If you want to go to Nistar with Lang, I’ll be fine on my own. It’s not like you’d be dead. We’d still see each other all the time, right? We could hang out and, like, I could play alleball with you guys. You could drop by the bathhouse every now and then.”
Ryan didn’t answer for a moment. When he did, it was, “Can I have your treasure chest?”
“Uhm, what?”
He leaned back up again. “If you attend, you’ll be getting the chest back, right? I looked into some present ideas and Salamander wood is really expensive right now. So, you know, could I have one of yours? You’d have two of them. Unless, of course, you want to sell one. I get that.”
“Uhm, why do you need it?” Micah asked him.
“I have a present idea,” Ryan said and looked at him. “For my mom.”
Micah didn’t hesitate. “Of course, you can have it, then. I mean, uh, how quickly would you need one?”
Ryan caught on. “Oh, it’s fine. I can wait until you get the other one back."
"Oh, good. Then, yeah, you can have it."
Ryan smiled and crossed his hands behind his head, happy that he could finally stop worrying about one less thing. “Thanks, man. I’ll say it was from you, too," he told him. "I know you were planning on getting something yourself.”
Micah thanked him and hesitated. “So, uhm, school?”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said in a musing tone. “That pamphlet of Mrs. Denner was really convincing. Who knew Henry and Henrickson sucked so much?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Micah smile.
“Be serious.”
“I am. After reading that, there’s no way I’m setting foot in Nistar again.”
“Ryan!”
He laughed and said, “Of course, I’m coming with. Lisa, you, me, Sam. We’re in this together, right?”
“Right.”
They both smiled and let the moment wear off until the silence threatened to stretch on. Then Ryan hesitantly asked, “Micah, don’t you think it’s time you spoke to your parents?”
He tensed up for a morment and let it out with a sigh, smile forgotten. “Yeah.”