by CM Raymond
Ezekiel told stories that made the past come alive—after all, he had lived through much of it. And within just a few days of beginning his tenure at the Academy, the students had taken to both him and his style. No longer did they sit as far away as possible with detached looks on their faces. Instead, they all pulled their desks in close, breaking the traditional rows.
As he expected, the students were hungry, and Ezekiel saw the class as a chance to subtly right some of the wrongs that they had been taught by the other professors who had a propensity for toeing the line. Those in control of Arcadia also held sway over the curriculum. History had been revised, and Ezekiel had every intention of taking it back to a more accurate representation of what had transpired. He longed to teach them the truth.
But this had to be done tactfully, without raising suspicion.
The students leaned in as he began his storytelling for the day. “Now, where were we?”
“The Founder,” a student near the front said.
“Ah, yes! Him. There are many stories about the Founder and many more legends. How he single-handedly stopped the Madness from spreading and raised this city from the dirt. As you know, most of that is exaggeration, but that doesn’t mean the myths hold no truth. After all, where there is smoke, there is usually fire. The truth is, the Founder was just a man. His name was Ezekiel, and while not perfect, he truly did care for this city, and all the people of Irth.”
His eyes glimmered as he began his own story. “You all know by now that the Founder didn’t bring magic with him—the great power that you wield already existed inside of you, inside of everyone, really. But he did teach the earliest Arcadians how to control it. More importantly, however, was his moral teaching. Ezekiel knew that changing the world was easy, but that making it better was hard. Do right by each other. Trust one another. These were the kinds of lessons the Founder taught, right alongside casting fireballs. The strong must help the weak, and the weak should do their best to become strong. Justice above all else. It’s how the Matriarch and the Patriarch lived and it’s how the Founder wanted Arcadians to live. Using magic meant nothing if it wasn’t used for good.”
The students sat in rapt attention, their eyes hardly blinking. This was a far cry from their usual lessons that focused solely on technique.
“But,” he continued. “When the Founder left, things began to change. The Chancellor—”
As if on cue, a creaking door from the back of the room grabbed his attention. Adrien walked through the open doorway, with dark sculpted hair and regal robes. He took a seat behind the students, and the class all shifted nervously. It wasn’t uncommon for the Academic Dean to observe a class of a new faculty member, but the Chancellor never made this kind of appearance. It set the room on edge, Ezekiel most of all.
“Chancellor,” Ezekiel said. “To what do we owe this...honor.”
“Don’t mind me, Professor Girard,” Adrien said, something between a smile and a sneer spread across his face. “I figure even the Chancellor needs to brush up on his history from time to time.”
Ezekiel considered trying to get inside his mind, even just for a few seconds, but he was concerned that Adrien might sense the mental assault… not to mention the glowing red eyes. But his presence here made it difficult for Ezekiel to deliver his planned lecture.
“Of course, old friend… Pardon me, Chancellor Adrien. Be our guest. I was just getting to what you would consider the good part.”
Ezekiel picked back up where he had left off but now took it down a different trajectory. “As I was saying, the Founder had given the keys to the Kingdom to our esteemed Chancellor. He trusted his young student to be the steward of magic and justice within the walls of Arcadia. But this was no easy task, and in his absence, the city the Founder envisioned soon began to change.”
Glancing to the back of the room, he saw Adrien’s eyes narrow. The visit wasn’t a routine teaching evaluation, but an opportunity to ensure Girard walked in step with their history. Ezekiel was already toeing the line.
A hand shot up in the front row. “How did everything change?” a student asked.
“Good question!” Ezekiel said with a grin. “The Founder, you must remember, was wise—the Oracle had granted him access to all kinds of advanced knowledge. And while you might think it best to listen to the advice of an expert, especially one who demonstrated as much power as the Founder, the Chancellor knew better. He created his own rules, to shape the city in the ways he saw fit.”
Ezekiel laughed uncomfortably. “For example, the Founder was convinced that magic should be freely held by all who could control it. There were no rich and poor in his vision of Arcadia—only hard work and a fair chance. But I’m sure your families and teacher have told you stories from that time—that justice like that came at a cost. Magic is dangerous, there is no doubt about that, and it was impossible to live without some injury, either to the caster or to others. And while the Founder helped put an end to Madness, greed still existed in the hearts of men. Unseemly folk began using magic for unjust advantage.” He returned his gaze on Adrien. “That’s something our Chancellor knows all about.”
Adrien’s face stiffened slightly, and Ezekiel could see that a few of his students were turning over the statement’s double meaning.
Careful, Ezekiel thought to himself.
“Which is why the Chancellor put a stop to all of that,” Ezekiel continued with an overly broad smile. “The Founder, with his silly idea of justice for all, could not have predicted the evils that Chancellor Adrien knew so well. Which is why he implemented the restriction. And next class, we’ll discuss how the restriction has made everything better throughout Arcadia. You’re dismissed.”
The students filed out; Adrien remained in the back row until the last one was gone.
“Interesting lecture, Girard,” Adrien smiled. “I would have chosen a different day if I knew I was walking into my origin story.”
Ezekiel cleaned the chalkboard. Without looking back, he said, “Arcadia’s origin, not yours.” He stopped cleaning and took a seat facing the Chancellor. “Although you’re right that these days, it’s hard to see the difference.”
Ezekiel struggled to contain his anger in the man’s presence, but the jabs were intentionally aimed. He waited to see if he could get a reaction from his old student. Adrien stared for a second, trying to figure out if he had been slighted.
“Never figured you as a teacher, Girard. Thought you’d made enough to go off and sit on your ass for the rest of your days at your fancy country manor.”
“Ah! The life of leisure. It’s something for a few years, but then it gets a bit old. Plus, there’s nothing quite like the comforts of the city—well, the Capitol and the Quarter anyway. The Boulevard never did rise with the rest of us. Almost as if it was designed that way, don’t you think? Anyway, I’ve been given so much, I decided it was only just that I gave a little something back. When I got word of all this Prophet and Founder… stuff… happening, I thought I could contribute right here.” He spread his hands out over the classroom.
Adrien laughed. “A donation might have been better appreciated. You were a terrible student, Girard. Hardly someone I would have pegged to be a professor. You would never have made it through the Academy yourself if others didn’t carry you—not to mention the giant contributions that your father had made.”
“People change. Isn’t that right, Adrien? From humble Steward to mighty Chancellor. That’s the way your story goes when it’s told in the right light.”
“What are you implying, Girard?”
“Just implying that I know what my job is…that’s why you’ve hired us right? To tell your lies? I’m not judging of course. I’m sure you know what’s best for the city. And what’s good for Arcadia is good for us all.”
Adrien raised his eyebrows. This Girard was different than the man he remembered. “I’m not sure altruism suits you, Girard. The student I used to know was always a selfish little prick. Wh
at’s your true motive here?”
Ezekiel focused on not showing any tells. For an instant, he considered blasting the damn fool with all the fury of his magic. But he withheld. The sound of students’ voices echoed through the hallway. Adrien was a cautious man, always on guard. If Ezekiel attacked him now, the fight would almost certainly come with collateral damage—and there was no guarantee that Ezekiel would win. The root would need to be removed but only at the right time. Ezekiel had to ensure that the city was with him and that his actions here wouldn’t make things worse. A violent attack from Unlawful extremists that resulted in the death of innocent students...that would surely put an end to any hope of rebellion--of real change for Arcadia.
Instead, he laughed. Laughed hard. “Oh… Adrien, you always could see the evil in people. That’s a gift the Founder never had. The truth is I’m here because of this Unlawful problem. If it gets out of hand, it could be bad for me. Bad for my daughter. When you get to be our age, leaving behind a legacy is all that really matters.” He paused, grinning like a fool. “There you have it. I’m not here to save the world. And while I know the truth, I’ll teach your lies. Because the status quo serves me well, serves my family well.”
A smile slowly crept across Adrien’s face. “Well, far be it from me to be critical of another man’s motivations, Girard. Just glad to see you have the good of the city at heart. We should discuss this further. Perhaps you could join me in the residence for dinner sometime?”
“Don’t you ever leave this dusty old tower? You should get out more, Adrien. See the city that you control. After all, nobody lives forever, and you wouldn’t want this tower to become your tomb.”
Ezekiel let the words hang in the air for a minute before looking out the window to see the setting sun. “But of course, I’d be happy to join you for dinner sometime. Unfortunately, I must now go. My daughter is expecting me and she... well, she can be quite the hellraiser. Maybe you’ll meet her some time to see for yourself. I’m sure she would just love that.”
Before Adrien could respond, Ezekiel turned and left him alone in the classroom. He was steaming as he stepped out of the tower and into the cool night air. Walking out through the Noble Quarter, Ezekiel ran the confrontation over in his head. Was Adrien onto him? Did he really buy the Girard act? Should he have put an end to it right there, consequences be damned?
Relief rushed over him as he entered the house. He dropped the illusion and returned to looking like himself. Hanging his overcloak on a peg by the door, he descended the steps into the basement. Waiting for him there were his real students, Gregory and Hannah, and he was overjoyed not to have held back in front of them.
Ezekiel exhaled and his eyes turned to fire. “Now, who wants to learn some real magic?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Karl’s snores were loud enough to wake a drunken bear—in fact, they sounded like they could have come from a drunken bear. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon when Parker couldn’t take it any longer. He slid out of his bedroll and ducked out of the little lean-to they had set up just inside the stand of trees.
Stretching, he felt every muscle in his body scream from the previous days training—even a few muscles he didn’t know he had. It was brutal, but by the end, Parker felt like he was starting to get the hang of it. Karl was an excellent fighter and an even better teacher. The old rearick knew the spear through and through, but also saw how to adapt it to Parker’s unique style.
At the rate he was learning, he’d be able to stand his own with confidence by the time they made it back from the Heights.
As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Parker walked to the edge of the forest and relieved himself. He watched as the sun began to light up the landscape.
Being a city boy through and through, Parker realized that he had just spent his first night camping. Sure, he’d squatted in abandoned buildings for a night plenty of times, but sleeping out in the woods was something entirely different. Seeing the early rays of the sun catch the frost on the grass, Parker wondered why in the world anybody would choose to live in Queen’s Boulevard when a world like this was open to them. With just a little ingenuity and a strong dose of stubbornness, someone from the slums could make a go in the wild and probably do quite well.
But as he admired the view, a blood-curdling scream cut through the woods. He nearly jumped out of his skin, and he instinctively reached for his spear—which he had inconveniently forgotten in the lean-to. Another cry, equal in intensity as the first echoed in response. Parker relaxed, realizing it was just wild animals performing their own morning rituals.
Maybe there were plenty of reasons to stay within the city walls after all.
“Good morning, lad.” Karl’s voice was extra gruff as the rearick pulled himself from the shelter. “Damn, I haven’t had that good of rest for weeks. Good to be out of the damn-blasted city.”
Karl crouched and poked the fire with a long stick. Before Parker could say “good morning,” the rearick had a fire blazing and was warming his hands over the flames.
“Funny,” Parker said, “I haven’t slept that poorly since… I don’t know when. But it could have been the wild beast snoring in my ear!”
Karl placed a frying pan on the fire and dropped some potatoes and dried meats in. Looking up, he said, “That is the sound of contentment. Have a clear conscience, sleep deep, and snore loud; that’s my motto!”
Parker laughed and joined him by the fire. “Your conscience must be cleaner than a noble woman’s undergarments.”
“Wouldn’t know,” Karl said with a wink. “You?”
The warm food made Parker feel instantly revived, and both of them chewed in silence, but the silence wouldn’t last.
A twig snapped in the woods behind them, and their heads snapped up to attention.
“Ah, it’s nothing. Just some animals. Heard em this morning,” Parker said with a mouth full of breakfast.
But Karl rolled to his feet, pulling his hammer out in front of him. “That ain’t no animal, boy. Grab your weapon!” Karl’s eyes darted back and forth, looking through the branches. “It’s time to see how well you were paying attention.”
****
Hannah closed her eyes, focusing inward. She pushed away her fears and anxieties, letting her training take over.
She opened her eyes, ready for action. This was the hardest task the young magician had ever undertaken. She took a breath, then moved into position.
Unfortunately, it was the wrong move, and she planted her foot squarely on top of Maddie’s.
“Ow,” the young girl said.
Hannah stepped forward when she was supposed to step back. It was a dance move she had gone over a dozen times, and yet Hannah still got it wrong. Her aggressive movement almost knocked Maddie to the floor.
“Son of a shit bird bastard,” she shouted as Maddie just laughed.
“Good. That’s very lady like,” Eleanor said with a sarcastic sigh. “You’ll fit into the noble ball like a mystic in a whore house.”
Hannah cocked her head at the odd expression. “Did you learn that one from Karl? It’s good. Although, I know a few mystics who would feel right at home in a brothel.”
Maddie squeezed her hand, bringing her attention back to the work. “Your first problem is that you’re not letting me lead. I’m playing the man here, which makes you the woman. You should follow my direction.”
“Always considered myself more of a modern woman,” Hannah said with a grin. “I mean, we’re not in the Age of Madness after all. Maybe I’m making a statement about women’s rights and all that shit.”
Eleanor crossed her arms. “Let’s put that as number two on the to-do list, shall we?”
Hannah scrunched her nose. “What’s number one?”
“Saving the world!”