Emissary of Nothingness - Chapter 63 - Moving In

Getting through the Academy gates took a little longer than Arien had expected.

Two guards searched their luggage thoroughly before instructing each of them to place a hand on a glass sphere mounted beside the entrance. Arien went first, and the moment his palm touched the surface, green light filled the glass.

One of the guards glanced at it, then at Arien. “Go ahead.”

Apparently, that was all the sphere had been looking for. Will’s produced the same result, and a few minutes later they were finally allowed through.

“Good thing we came early despite the rain,” Will said as they hurried toward the buildings several hundred feet beyond the gate. “Imagine the line tomorrow if they search everyone like that.”

Arien looked back at the empty stretch behind them and imagined several thousand students arriving with luggage tomorrow. 

Following Malbek’s advice, they had decided to move onto campus two days before classes officially began. It gave them time to learn the layout and, more importantly, avoid the worst of the chaos expected the following day, when students would begin arriving from across Wyndor and beyond.

Rain blurred most of the Academy from a distance. As they approached the buildings, their sheer scale became much clearer.

What he had always thought of as the main building wasn’t really one building at all. It was an entire collection of structures joined together over generations, all built primarily from red brick but with very little agreement on what should be done with it.

Stone gargoyles lined one roof, floral mosaics covered another, and a third section had narrow windows and heavy buttresses that made it look almost like a fortress. Even the brickwork varied from deep red to weathered brown. The Academy had clearly grown whenever it needed more space, with each generation of architects apparently deciding that whatever the previous one had done was wrong.

Arien liked it. He wondered how many generations of students had passed through the Academy before him, and what had happened here over all those years.

A wooden sign before the main entrance sent first-years in another direction:

FIRST YEAR →

Several more signs led them across the grounds, and by the fifth arrow Arien had begun to suspect the Academy was testing whether new students could follow basic instructions.

They eventually reached a much smaller building, soaked through. Inside, older students sat behind five desks, checking names, collecting papers, handing out keys, and assigning each newcomer a guide.

“See you in an hour,” Arien said. Will nodded before disappearing with his own guide.

Arien’s guide said almost nothing and looked thoroughly miserable in the rain. He also showed no interest in helping with the luggage.

They crossed two courtyards and passed several lecture buildings, a broad stone hall, another dormitory, and at least two structures Arien couldn’t identify. With its own streets, courtyards, dormitories, and dozens of buildings, the Academy felt almost like a city within Wayhold.

His dormitory stood near the far edge of the campus, almost opposite the main gate and only a short distance from the forest.

Compared with the older Academy buildings, it was painfully ordinary: five stories of red brick, long rows of identical windows, and nothing apparently worthy of putting on a brochure. Arien didn’t mind. His room had a good view of the trees.

The older student handed Arien a set of keys and pushed a form toward him, pointing at the bottom. Arien managed to skim about half of it before noticing the boy was already waiting impatiently, so he signed. His guide took the form and left without another word.

Helpful.

The room was simple but better than Arien had expected: two beds, two desks, two wardrobes, a pair of magical lamps, and large windows overlooking the trees. He would only be sharing with one other student, which already sounded considerably better than what Will had described for the House of the Sword.

Arien changed out of his soaked clothes and unpacked, putting his clothes in the wardrobe, his writing supplies and notebooks on the desk, and everything else wherever it fit. Ten minutes later, he was done. The untouched bed and empty wardrobe opposite his confirmed that his roommate had not arrived yet.

He had arranged to meet Will in an hour, having assumed the entire process would take much longer. With nothing better to do, he dropped onto his bed and unfolded the class schedule he had received downstairs along with a small map of the campus.

Mana Discovery. Theory of Magic. Theory of Mana. Introduction to the System. History of Wyndor. Ethics of Magic. Physical Training. First-Year Academy Seminar. Aspect Discovery. Wyndorian Law. The Role of a Mage in Wyndor. Healing Theory. Healing Practicum.

Arien read the list twice. Only the final two classes appeared specifically tailored to his declared interest in becoming a Healer; everything else looked like the standard first-year curriculum.

That suited him. For years, almost everything he knew about magic had come from trial, error, observation, and occasionally doing something stupid enough to learn why it should not be done. Experimenting had taken him far, but lately his progress had slowed and several Skills had stalled. Formal instruction might finally show him what he was missing.

One other entry caught his attention. Every two weeks, he was expected to meet privately with his assigned Master. 

Lamaral.

The schedule had no explanation of what the meetings were supposed to cover.

Arien continued down the page and stopped. Classes ran from eight in the morning until six in the evening, five days a week, with only an hour for lunch. He checked twice to make sure he had read it correctly.

Nine hours a day.

Whoever had designed the curriculum was a monster.

By the time Arien met Will outside the dormitory an hour later, the rain had stopped, leaving the paths muddy and covered in puddles. Will had apparently spent part of that hour studying his schedule and had somehow become even more excited.

“I can’t wait for the first day!” he announced as they set off across campus. “I have so many classes that sound incredible.”

Arien gave him a doubtful look. “Your classes start at seven in the morning.”

“I know!”

“And finish at six.”

“I know!” Will somehow sounded even happier.

They followed one of the muddy paths between the dormitories, using their campus maps to locate the buildings they would need most often once classes began.

“There have to be student rights being violated somewhere,” Arien muttered. “Mine start at eight, and I’m still expected to survive nine hours of classes a day.”

“Are you kidding? The more classes, the better.” Will stepped directly through a puddle Arien had gone out of his way to avoid. “Unfortunately, Malbek said we don’t get nearly as much homework as you lot.”

Arien groaned. He had somehow managed to forget that homework existed.

“I have Swordsmanship every day,” Will continued enthusiastically. “And Endurance, Agility, Strength, Balance…” He glanced down at his schedule. “I don’t understand why we have so many theoretical subjects, though. Wyndorian Law makes sense, I suppose, but why do I need History of Wyndor? Or Ethics?”

“Maybe they added a few academic classes so your body has time to recover.” Arien hopped over another puddle.

Will considered that. “That’s possible.” A few steps later, his expression brightened again. “I wonder what Group Combat is going to be like.”

Arien smiled. He hadn’t seen Will this excited in a long time. Probably not since the raid. 

And, annoyingly, some of that enthusiasm was beginning to spread.

He looked around at the unfamiliar buildings rising on either side of the path. Somewhere inside them were classrooms devoted entirely to mana, Aspects, the System, healing, subjects he had spent years trying to understand almost entirely on his own.

Nine hours a day still sounded barbaric. But he had crossed nearly the entire kingdom for this. A ridiculous timetable wasn’t going to stop him from conquering the world of magic.

They turned onto another path bordered by dripping trees.

Quick footsteps splashed through the mud behind them. Before Arien could turn, two hands covered his eyes. Mana surged instinctively toward his fingertips.

“Guess who!”

He recognized the voice immediately. “Velia?”

“Correct!” 

The hands disappeared, and Arien let the gathered mana disperse before turning around. Velia grinned at him.

His gaze dropped briefly to her hands. Her palms and fingers were covered in calluses, which he hadn’t expected from someone he had only seen buried in paperwork.

Today she looked very different from either version of her he had seen before. Simple cotton trousers, sturdy shoes, and a white sweater several sizes too large. She had pulled her hands back inside the sleeves against the lingering chill.

“I thought that was you two,” she said. “Let me guess, you had enough sense to arrive early instead of waiting until the last possible moment and finding no rooms left?”

“Does that actually happen?” Arien asked.

“Sometimes.” Velia fell into step beside them. “Processing several thousand arrivals is a logistical nightmare. I hated that assignment.”

“Assignment?”

“Upper-year students from the House of the Quill help organize Academy life. Registration, records, schedules, events. Sometimes work outside the Academy as well.” Her expression became suspiciously solemn. “The Masters claim it gives us valuable practical experience for our future careers.”

Arien nodded. “So the Academy gets free labor.”

“Exactly!” Velia laughed. “Most Masters consider this sort of work beneath their dignity, so naturally it becomes educational when we do it. It counts toward passing the year, though, so we don’t have much choice.”

Velia clasped her hands together. “Speaking of educational free labor, I need to move several boxes of registration records. Would two strong gentlemen be willing to help a lady in need?”

“We’re a little busy,” Arien said.

“Of course we’ll help,” Will said at exactly the same time.

Velia looked from one to the other. Then burst out laughing. “You two really are a strange pair of friends.”

Arien sighed. “We’re working on it.” He lifted the damp map in his hand. “Besides, we’re busy with something important. We’re trying to get lost now so we don’t have to do it on the first day.”

Velia glanced at the map and laughed. “In that case, I’ll make it worth your while. Help me with the boxes, and afterward I’ll give you a proper tour of the campus. Better than whatever you’re trying to accomplish with that.”

“Include some information about the Masters we’ll be studying under.”

Velia’s eyebrows rose. “Now that information is valuable.”

“So are two strong men carrying boxes.”

Velia considered them for a moment. “Fine. I’ll tell you about the Masters, but you’ll owe me a small favor.”

“How small?”

She smiled. “Small.”

Arien hesitated. Knowing what to expect from the Masters might save him from doing something stupid in the first few days.

“Fine.”

Velia looked far too pleased with that answer.

The next few hours consisted mostly of hauling registration records between buildings while Velia supervised, opened doors, and offered encouragement. Will treated the whole thing as training and by the third trip was carrying three boxes at once.

“We should make this a competition,” he suggested.

Arien adjusted the single box straining his arms and tapped one finger against his temple.

Will frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Use your imagination.”

Velia laughed from the doorway.

By the time they finished, the ache in Arien’s back, arms, and legs made it perfectly clear why Velia had gone looking for help. She kept her promise, though, and led them first to one of the Academy dining halls, where students could take as much food as they wanted from long serving counters. The food turned out to be surprisingly good.

“There are restaurants too,” Velia explained as they ate. “Mostly around the Port.”

“The Academy has a port?”

“No.” Velia grinned. “You’ll understand later.”

Over lunch they also learned that she was about to begin her seventh year in the House of the Quill. After graduation, she hoped to enter the Kingdom’s diplomatic service, following her mother, who currently worked at the embassy in the Republic. That explained at least some of her interest in collecting favors.

Afterward, the actual tour began.

“There are six names you need to remember,” Velia told them as they left the dining hall. “The Palace, the Sands, the Tower, the Port, the Labyrinth, and the Benches.”

Arien unfolded his map. “None of those are written here.”

“Because none of them are official.”

“Naturally.”

“Even some Masters use them, so stop complaining.”

The Palace was easy enough to understand. It was the enormous central complex Arien had seen from outside, containing dozens of classrooms and lecture halls. Most of their first-year theoretical lessons would take place somewhere inside it.

Velia showed them the entrances they would use most often and warned them not to assume that two doors ten paces apart necessarily led anywhere near each other.

“That becomes important once you reach the Labyrinth,” she added.

“Why is there something called the Labyrinth inside a school?” Arien asked.

“Because generations of architects hated children.” She refused to elaborate.

The Sands required considerably less explanation. Will stopped walking the moment they entered.

Ahead of them stretched a vast expanse of packed earth divided into training fields. Weapon racks stood beneath covered shelters. Targets lined one section. In another, older students were crossing an obstacle course of walls, ropes, trenches, and wooden platforms. Farther away, Arien spotted several more courses of increasingly unreasonable appearance.

Will stared. “Oh.”

Arien looked at him. “No.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“We have time.”

“We absolutely do not.”

Ten minutes later, Arien and Velia had to drag him away anyway.

“Traitors,” Will muttered.

The Tower had the opposite effect. This time Arien stopped.

It rose from the center of the oldest Academy complex, seven stories of dark stone surrounded by a faint distortion in the air. Even without deliberately extending Mana Sense, Arien could feel the amount of mana surrounding the Tower.

“You’re not getting inside,” Velia said.

“I didn’t ask.”

“You had the look.”

“What look?”

“The one every first-year mage gets when they see the Tower.”

Entry, she explained, was restricted to House of Magic students from the fifth year onward.

“What’s inside?” 

Velia shrugged. “Denser mana. Training rooms. Extremely powerful wards. Probably several Masters who haven’t seen sunlight in decades.”

Arien kept staring. “That’s all?”

“According to everyone I know who has actually been inside.”

Somehow, he found that difficult to believe.

The Port contained neither ships nor water. It occupied part of the eastern edge of campus and consisted of taverns, restaurants, small inns, and music halls. Officially, most were restricted to students in their fifth year or above.

“It’s where students go to recover after the Academy is done grinding them into dust for the day,” Velia said.

The Labyrinth was exactly what its name suggested.

Velia led them through one entrance in the oldest section of the Palace, up a staircase, through two corridors, down another staircase, and somehow emerged on what Arien was fairly certain was the same floor.

“That shouldn’t be possible.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“That wasn’t reassuring.”

She pointed toward a narrow corridor disappearing around a corner.

“Some passages go nowhere, a few rooms have several entrances, and there are staircases that skip entire floors. Then there are all the usual stories about hidden chambers, missing students, and ghosts.”

“Ghosts?”

Velia nodded. “I heard chains rattling here once in the middle of winter.”

Arien gave her a skeptical look. “You’re making that up.”

Velia smiled. “Maybe.”

The last stop was the Benches. Arien liked it immediately.

The building was older than most of the dormitories and much larger than its plain exterior suggested. Long wooden benches filled the central hall, with tables buried beneath books, papers, and inkpots, while shelves covered both the ground floor and the gallery above. Even though classes had not started yet, dozens of students were already studying.

Arien looked around slowly. “This is the library?”

“Part of it.”

He looked at Velia. “Part?”

Velia pointed toward the floor. “Most of the rarer books are kept below us. Old manuscripts, specialized texts, anything with access restrictions.”

Arien looked toward the floor. “Can students request them?”

“Sometimes. Usually with written permission from a Master.”

“How hard is that to get?”

Velia hesitated. “For a first-year?”

Arien waited.

“Impossible.”

He glanced down again. There were interesting books directly beneath his feet, and apparently he wasn’t getting near them anytime soon.

By the time they left the Benches, Arien had to admit that carrying the boxes had been worth it. Without Velia, it might have taken them weeks merely to learn what students meant when they said they were meeting at the Sands or spending an evening at the Port.

There was still far more campus left to explore, but Velia eventually checked the time and grimaced. “That’s enough for today. I have somewhere else to be.”

“What about the information on our Masters?” Arien reminded her.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Arien wasn’t entirely convinced.

By the time Arien returned, voices filled the corridors and doors were opening and closing throughout the dormitory. More students had arrived while he was gone, and by tomorrow the place would be crowded.

He paused outside his room. For years, the Academy had been little more than a name on a map, somewhere he hoped to reach eventually. Now he was here, with his schedule on the desk and classes beginning in two days.