“I'm impressed. Your knowledge of Dengel's canon is exceptional.”
“Well . . . I'm a big fan,” Eric said truthfully.
Kallen chuckled. “Everyone thought you were just the princess's latest stunt. No one thought you'd finish that test.”
Eric shrugged. “I depend on Dengel for my livelihood. I have to know it well, that's all.”
Now she cackled. “I'm glad you're in this thing. Now it will be fun.”
She extended her hand and Eric shook it. At once, a surge of warmth and peace raced up his arm and to his heart. He would have been shocked if it didn't feel so good. Kallen let go and the feeling vanished, leaving him feeling colder and more isolated than he had a second ago.
“I look forward to seeing you progress, Eric Watley, especially what others will do about it.”
“What do you—?”
Kallen twiddled her fingers at him, said, “Ta-da,” and left without explanation.
Four hours later, the results of the exam were posted on a crystal board in the ballroom. The cutoff point was ninety percent and Eric's perfect score set the standard. The type A's of the class mumbled hatefully at how it made there's low in comparison.
“This test is invalid!” Getis declared. “The mercenary cheated.”
The crowd muttered in agreement. Technically, Eric did cheat, but no one would believe exactly how. He was in the middle of spinning a defense when Kallen stepped forward.
“Do you have evidence? I simply must have evidence. As a scientist I'm incurable that way.”
“He's a sell staff! What more proof do I need!?”
Kallen raised an eyebrow. “Proof? I doubt it will stand up to scientific scrutiny.”
“It is inconceivable that a sell staff could know more than a student of the Royal Academy of Magical Learning! All people like him do is fight and drink!”
“Well . . .” Kallen said with her hands on her hips. “I must confess I know nothing about the daily lives of mercenaries and so I cannot contradict you. We must collect data from the source.” Turning to Eric, she asked, “Mr. Watley, what is your daily schedule?”
The novice told them just that: Wake up, breakfast, mission, lunch, train, shower, friends, study Dengel's work, go to sleep. He didn't tell them that the author himself lived in his head because he promised the healer of Kyraa. He did feel a little guilty, but it was far too gratifying to see Getis squirm.
“There you have it,” Kallen said. “He spends time every day studying Dengel's work. Do you have more evidence for us to consider?”
Getis said nothing and melted into the crowd.
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” Kallen said. “I love putting pencil necks like him in their place.” She snatched a bowl of shrimp from a passing waiter and gobbled it. “I need something more filling..Anyway, you ready for the next event?”
“Yes. I bet you'll pass easy.”
She shrugged. “I'm a field agent, not a magician.”
“At least you get recognition. Except for you and Kasile, everyone here thinks I have fleas.”
“You just need an accomplishment. After this contest, you'll be treated differently.”
Eric smiled. “You . . .you think I'll win?”
“Definitely,” Kallen said with a shoulder punch. “You're my only competition.”
A trumpet drew their attention to center stage. Kasile congratulated those who passed a “test of arcane knowledge” and consoled the rest by reminding them that no one would know. Although she maintained a polite face, Eric could feel a giant sneer. Dancing on the border of decorum; she loved it.
An especially big congrats to you, my friend.
Yes, I should give myself a pat on the back for furthering your political agenda.
Kasile giggled. Doesn't it feel good knowing that you're working towards a more fair society? Eric remained silent. I bet you'll feel good with prize money in your hands.
THAT I will agree with. Will I be teaching today?
The princess was surrounded by students pestering her with questions about magic. The most common one was if she used any to keep her skin clear or her hair shining. Not today. I have another 'political agenda' to pursue. Let's just say being kidnapped taught me more than mana claws. Tune in to Channel 5 in one hour. That friend of yours . . .Tiza . . .I want her to see it.
You're not going to win her over.
Eric, I'm a politician; winning people over is what I do.
Eric couldn't argue with that so he headed to Motsuc's shop. On the way, he stopped at a fast food chain that served the burgers he liked so much. He knew Tiza wouldn't agree so in preparation for resistance he came bearing gifts.
Tiza slurped a milkshake. “And why do you want me to watch in the first place?”
Despite the fact that he had no idea himself, he said, “I'll think you'll find it interesting.”
Stuck in Motsuc's ceiling was a CV complete with surround sound speakers in the walls. At the push of a button, lines of energy traveled up the walls and lit up the screen. Kasile appeared on a stage across from an older human woman. Her circlet was missing, her dress was casual, and, interestingly enough, she was wearing shoes like Tiza's. Surely that's not the reason . . .
“Hello and welcome to Casandra,” said the host. “Today, we have a special guest. Our very own princess, Kasile Ataidar!” The audience applauded on cue. “Tell us, Princess, what cause are you championing today?”
“I'll give you a hint: it has to do with the New Scepter Competition.”
Casandra leaned forward. “You've recommended someone outrageous again, haven't you?”
Kasile leaned forward. “I have: Eric Watley from the Dragon's Lair, BUT!” she emphasized this with the raise of a gloved finger. “Unlike the others, Eric passed the First Challenge. In fact, he outscored everyone else.”
The host and audience gasped.
“Is this the same Eric Watley that led your rescue?”
Kasile nodded. “The very same. Did you know he wasn't hired to do so? It was all his idea and the expenses for the mission came out of his own pocket. I owe him so much.” Eric blushed to his toes. What kind of plan involved embarrassing him on CV!? “I'm glad you brought up the rescue, Casandra, because I want to talk about it.”
“And we'd love to hear about it. Wouldn't we everyone?” The audience cheered.
“I had a lot of time to think while I was captive . . .” Kasile said softly. Her eyes were downcast and her hands clasped in her lap. “I began to think that . . . maybe . . .I could have prevented it.” Her eyes misted up and the cameraman focused in. “If I had been prepared . . .Maybe . . .”
Oh, she's good!
“We don't have to go on if it’s too much for you.”
Kasile shook her head. “No . . . I need to do this.”
Tiza burped. “You interrupted my training to watch a tent's sob story?”
“Keep watching.” Tiza stood up. “Keep watching or I'll take back the milkshake.”
“All right.” Tiza lay back down. “Five minutes.”
“—that again,” Kasile was saying. “As soon as I returned, I sought out an instructor in self-defense. I won't be a damsel in distress anymore: kidnappers beware!”
The audience applauded.
Cassandra's tablet pinged and a question appeared. “Where have you found this instructor, our audience wants to know.”
“Mine is part of the royal guard, but I imagine one could find very capable instructors at the local dojo or warrior guilds like the Dragon's Lair.”
“Why's a tent promoting us?” Tiza asked.
“Maybe this is her way of rewarding me and Culmus.”
Tiza frowned. “Or maybe she's trying to convert me.” That's a strange choice of words. “I'll never be converted by a tent!” She went back to the front desk. “You can keep the milkshake!”
Eric stayed to finish the program. Here he could watch it without interruption. It was an unwritten rule that hig
her-ranking members had higher levels of control over the remote. As a greenhorn novice, he could only ask someone to turn the volume up.
“—which needs a renovation,” the princess continued. “I saved the best for last. According to my last report, the assassins targeting Abbot Tolis have been apprehended.”
Casandra addressed the camera. “For those of you at home who don't know, Valentine Tolis is the Abbot of Our Lady of Benevolent Mischief in Rlawader. He leads the international protest of Latrot's use of ordercraft on sapients. Since the start of the new year, he has survived three attempts on his life. Tell me, Princess, who is responsible for saving him?”
Kasile waggled her finger. “Sora wa himtsu desu. The bodyguard's contract has a confidentiality clause.” Tiza jumped from her seat. “All that's important is the safety of the client's . . .Cocoon.”
Beaming like an adoring daughter, Tiza bragged endlessly about the greatness of her Spider Daylra; in a whisper of course. She couldn't risk anyone overhearing. She had so much fun she neglected a customer. They rang three times before she pulled herself away.
“Stuff Maker!” Tiza called. “There's a guy here that wants a special brush.”
The backroom racket died down and Motsuc came out to deliver the order. Then he noticed Eric and asked if he was a customer. When the mage shook his head Motsuc told him to leave. The customizer didn't like loiters, delinquents or people using his CV but he did like people that brought him lunch. While Motsuc ate his salad, Eric watched his game show.
“You've known Basilard for a while, right?” Eric asked during a commercial break.
“Yes I've known him since he was your age.”
“Then do you know about his previous team? The one before us?”
“That was eight years ago. I can't remember something like that.”
“But you remember that it was eight years ago.” Motsuc froze. “Tell us!”
“It's none of my business what Basilard did with his first team! So stop asking me!”
“His first team?” both novices said. Motsuc clamped both hands to his mouth.
If something tragic happened it would explain why everyone refuses to talk about it. Did he blame himself for their death? It would explain his determination to be a decoy in the Yacian Caverns. Was he was a poor teacher? On their way back, Basilard felt a need to “redeem himself.” Did they—
“YOU'RE GONNA DIE!!” a zombie shouted in his face. Eric screeched and his hands flew in front of him to form a mana bolt. Then Tiza's head poked out from behind the zombie's.
“Tiza! What are you doing!?”
“My job,” she said with an obnoxious smile. “Products have to be tested before they are sold. Quality check, you know?” On a second look, the zombie was fake: a puppet made of rubber, faux hair and blood. “You were so zoned out you were the perfect test subject.”
“Indeed he was,” Motsuc said. “My client is going to love this.”
“Who the abyss would order a fake zombie!?”
“A college professor,” Motsuc replied. “Rather unorthodox they are; wanted something that would keep students awake in class. This ought to do the trick.”
“Hey, Dimwit,” Tiza said, barely withholding a chuckle. “Is there anything else you want to think about? We have more . . . hehe . . .products to test!” She lost the struggle and laughed out loud. Motsuc joined her. While Eric didn't entirely mind being a poster-child, he definitely objected to being a test dummy or a punchline. He left the store for more civil company.
Civil company was nowhere to be found. Annala was working at Across the Sea and not speaking to him because he broke his promise to work with her. His second friend, Revas, was also busy working at the family dojo. His third friend, Oito, was training for the Joust somewhere in the country. Nolien had his hands full at the orphanage.
Why are you ignoring me!? Dengel demanded. You act like I'm not here!
I'm looking for a friend and all you do is brag and lecture.
My lectures are brilliant and I NEVER brag.
Seeing everyone so busy with their own lives made Eric remember he was an Otherworlder. He may learn Ataidar's history and culture, but he wasn't born here. He didn't have the experience of growing up here. It would be nice to talk someone who was also an outsider . . . He slapped his forehead. How could I have been so stupid! He banged himself on the head for good measure. He wasn't out of friends, not yet. A very important one waited for him at home.
Above Eric's bed was a mantle. In truth, it was a support beam for the bridge that was his house, but it served the purpose of a mantle just as well. Here he stored his treasures.
The first was the rock and paper from his first “mission” because it reminded him of the day he joined the Dragon's Lair. He'd grown fond of the guild despite their personality quirks and general aura of chaos. They were a friendly bunch despite what others said.
The second was the talon he tore off the Cecri because it reminded him of both his first real mission and his first battle as a mage. He originally tore it off to remind himself of his mistakes, but its meaning had changed. It was his first battle trophy.
The third object was Kasile's handkerchief. Culmus objected but Kasile insisted Eric kept it as a memento of the rescue. Then she joked that he “charmed” it out of her and laughed when Culmus paled. Privately, Eric thought she used him to get it out of Culmus' possession and stabilize her relationship with Siron. Still, he was glad because it symbolized the first mission he took on his own initiative. He found the client, he made the plan, he executed it, and he came back alive with his partner.
It was the fourth object that held Eric's attention: the jar of Aio's ashes. It was simple, unadorned plastic; Tiza had used it to carry raisins. As per Basilard's instructions, he kept it for himself.
“Hey, Aio, how are you?” Eric asked the jar. “Your roomy's been busy since you left. I survived an ordeal to obtain the soul of one of the greatest mages in history and killed a fellow sapient to stop them from raping my best friend. You know her, Annala Enaz. No, we're not a couple. I helped a princess rescue herself and now I've been drafted by her for a political campaign. Because of her, I've entered a magic contest that wants to throw me out.”
He paused, sniffed, and swallowed.
“Everything changed after you left. I used to be a humble mercenary and now I'm some quasi-celebrity: Eric the Princess Rescuer and Eric the First Non-Academy Student to Pass the Founders of Magic Exam. Kasile wants me to teach her magecraft when I'm still a student myself and win this competition to open it to non-academy students. If I lose, she'll lose . . . If she weren't depending on me so much . . . if we weren't friends . . . I'd quit.”
The jar didn't respond, but Eric didn't expect it to. Some things were impossible regardless of the world you were in. Even a world as crazy as this one where monsters roamed and magic was a commonplace science; where anything was possible if you had enough energy, knowledge, and willpower . . . Death was death; Ashes were ashes; Dust was dust.
Still, it was good to get things off his chest once in a while. He could imagine Aio listening as he always did. He could imagine the albino's bright eyes and mischievous smile and saying something silly. It made him feel better.
He said goodbye and left for the Dragon's Lair. Only there could he practice his act for the second challenge without disturbing anyone and Dengel was paranoid that someone would steal it. Mia was listening to music, but waved to him as he passed.
Just outside the door, he heard the sounds of flesh striking wood and feminine battle shouts. Opening the door, he found Kasile fighting a training dummy under Laharg's supervision. Her hair was tied up in a bun and she looked quite the commoner drenched in sweat and blemished with bruises.
Judging by your tarnished beauty, I'd say you've been here a while.
Divine beauty is never tarnished, Kasile replied without stopping.
“Hey, Eric!“ Laharg called. “You here to train too?”
“No. I'm here to practice for the magic contest.”
Laharg turned up his nose. “That snob fest at the castle?”
“I'm doing it to piss off those snobs. And for prize money.”
A big grin broke over Laharg's face. It made his scary features friendly. He playfully punched Eric's arm and said, “Thata boy!” Eric winced and rubbed the area. He could already feel the bruise forming. “Sorry. Forgot you were a soft skin. Unlike my student.”
Kasile attacked the dummy with renewed vigor.
“So the princess is doing well?”
“Better than well!” Malize said. She flopped on Laharg's bald head like a winged hat. “I've seen full-time novices complain more than she does.”
“Yeah. She's gonna spoil us for when we get a tr—”
Malize covered Laharg's eyes and said “guess who?” Laharg replied by plucking her off his head and staring sternly. Malize pouted and crossed her arms. Laharg sighed and put her back on his head. She hugged his cue ball with all four limbs. Eric couldn't hold his laughter any further.
“What's so funny?”
“I'm sorry. It's just that . . . I've never met a pair like you.”
Malize picked Laharg's ear. “I'll admit we're an odd sight, but we fit in at our homelands.”
“Every orc's got a fairy on their head?”
Malize nodded. “Uh-huh! It's a tradition that goes back two thousand years.”
Kasile hunched over on her knees to catch her breath.
“You shouldn't do that,” Laharg said. “You're constricting your lungs and getting less air.”
Kasile nodded and stood straight. “Eric, are you ready for the Second Challenge?”
Eric grinned. “See for yourself.”
The dead mage hmphed while the living one performed his act. As a magic researcher, he couldn't stand seeing magic used as entertainment. The performance ended and Kasile clapped.
“You think the judges will like it?
“I think the judges will love it.”
“Prettyyy . . .” Malize said.
“If you have enough air to praise, then you have enough to train,” Laharg said. “Time for you to learn your first battle dance.”
A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) Page 37