Gregory coughed and looked out the window. “Educational.”
Laughing lightly, Bishop nodded, “I’m sure it was.”
“I was wondering, Proctor, what became of the muggers?”
“The thugs who attacked you were taken before the city magistrate,” she told them. “They are paying for their crimes now. Two of them, anyway. The other died from his wounds.”
The carriage lurched as the driver cracked the whip and got the four horses moving. Gregory looked out the window, unsure of how he felt about what had become of the men who attacked him. His aether pulsed, and a happy feeling welled up inside of his chest.
“That kind of thing happens in the empire. You’ve been removed from it out on the fringe, but that and worse are common. Do you know what punishment the men who attacked you are likely to get?” Bishop asked as she settled back into the seat.
“No, Proctor.”
“Servitude,” Bishop replied simply. “They will be required to serve the empire for a set length of time. If they fail in their duty or commit another crime during that period, their lives are forfeit or they will become slaves. Have you gotten to that part of the history yet?”
“No, Proctor,” Gregory admitted.
“You will. I’m going to rest for a bit. I didn’t get much sleep last night,” Bishop said, and leaned her head against the doorframe. “Don’t worry about keeping it down; you won’t bother me.” A moment later, a soft and almost delicate snore came from Bishop.
Watching her for a moment, Gregory wondered what he should do. After a few minutes of watching the city go by, he picked the book back up and started reading again.
Chapter Twelve
The days flew by, as did the towns and cities. Gregory had at first been surprised at how fast the carriage traveled when they were between the various settlements. Bishop had answered his question with a simple, “Enchantment,” before going back to her own amusements. They had changed carriages at Kendlin to the one that would take them to Wesrik. Gregory felt a bit of disappointment that no other inn they stayed at offered the same type of bathing that the Proctor’s Rest had. He had noticed an increase in the number of servants with eurtik blood, and had even seen a couple of pureblooded eurtik working at the inns they stayed at.
With the carriage getting closer to Wesrik, Gregory asked a question that had been bothering him, “Proctor, I read in the history where the emperor instituted slavery and servitude. But, that was over a thousand years ago. Why is it still in place today?”
Bishop eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “That question would cause you a lot of problems if voiced in front of someone else. The answer is because once an institution is set up, it is hard to pull down. We’ve ingrained distrust and hatred of the eurtik into the very fabric of the empire. It isn’t just the eurtik who are servants and slaves, though; it has spread as a way of keeping the peace. Do you know the difference between a servant and a slave?”
“Slaves have no rights; they are property and owned by the one who has their control rune. A slave who touches a control rune dies, and in the history book, it says that many eurtiks chose that death. The one who creates the runes can place restrictions on what the slave can and can’t do, and pain is used as the control if they break their restrictions. Servants are constrained by the rules imposed on them when they became servants. They are still people and are to be treated well by their keeper. Servants are housed, fed, and cared for. If they aren’t, then the servants are to be freed or their debt surrendered to another.”
“The men who attacked you were forced into servitude as labor for the city. That is why the system is still in place. They will spend the next three years working off their crime. If they commit any other crime or fail in their duties, they will become slaves instead. Now, who can create a rune for slavery or institute the servant pact?”
“Magus and higher tiered magi can create slave runes, while adepts and higher can create the servant pact. Only a grandmaster and above can break a rune, but the pacts fade after a set time, or they can be broken early by a master or up.”
“Correct. Now, how can you tell if someone is a servant or slave?”
“There is no way to tell for a servant,” Gregory replied. “Slaves have a brand in the shape of their rune somewhere on their body, though it is most commonly on the arm or chest, Proctor.”
“Well done. You are picking up your history well. I doubt any of that was covered in your village.”
“It wasn’t. We had no servants, slaves, or eurtiks. Have you known any half-bloods that weren’t servants?”
“Many, though they have a rougher time of it than others.”
“Are there any pureblood eurtiks who aren’t slaves?”
“Besides babies? None. The law states that all purebloods must be bound to slavery for the good of the empire.”
“But why? The Eurtik Empire fell nearly a thousand years ago. For a hundred years or two, it might have made sense, but now?”
Bishop shook her head, “Never say that to another person. You’d be viewed as an anarchist at best. Understood, Novice?”
Hearing the stress on his rank, Gregory bowed his head. “I will do as you say, Proctor.”
“Have you looked over the scroll?” Bishop asked to change the subject.
“I did, Proctor. It focuses on how meditation can improve your aether. Refine the flame so it can burn cleaner, and use less aether for anything you need it to do.”
“Every path likes to claim that it’s the best of the three,” Bishop replied. “The body path focuses on bettering your physical body to increase how much aether you can move through your body without stress. Detractors would say that the body can only be improved so far, and then you stagnate. The mind path devotes itself to learning. Increasing one’s mind can help your aether grow, giving you more aether to use. But, while that can lead to fast growth at the academy, once outside of its walls, the rate sharply declines. The spirit path, as you stated, focuses on mediation and knowing oneself to increase aether, but others point out that it is the slowest growing path. No one of great note has ever used it to rise to prominence.”
“How does one choose which path is right for them, Proctor?”
“The clans at the academy will each do their best to recruit you, but it is best to wait until you have been enrolled into the academy before you choose.”
“Why is that, Proctor?”
“When you enroll, you will be taken to the Blade, which will let you know which magical path is yours to tread.” Seeing his interest, Bishop decided to skirt the line of what she could tell him. “Everyone is predisposed to a magical path. Mine is physical enhancement, which is why I can do some of the things you’ve seen me do. Others are on the path of one of the elements: fire, water, earth, or wind; and some are set on the path of crafting alchemy: enchanting and the like. Since my magic is physical enhancement, it was best for me to follow the body path, as together, there was an increased effectiveness.”
Gregory stared out the window, thinking about how little he knew of his aether and what that might mean for him. The body path would probably be a bad idea; he was painfully thin, though that had begun to change over the last week with good food every day. Following the path of the mind would be interesting. He had discovered he enjoyed learning new things, though he worried about the drop off of growth that Bishop mentioned. Spirit he could not decide about. Meditating seemed like it would be a good path and easy to do, but the fact that no one in over a thousand years had followed it and made a name for themselves worried him.
“What is it you want from your time at the academy, Novice?” Bishop asked after the silence had lasted for over an hour.
“I don’t know,” Gregory admitted. “To grow stronger, to serve the empire, to be like Lionel Lighthand and the other great magi? I’m not even sure what the academy does, besides teaching novices to become magi.”
“A blank slate,” Bishop murmured. Clearing her throat, she sp
oke up, “The normal answers are power, prestige, and wealth. A few like to speak of helping the family they came from, while others are about helping grow the clan they join. It is a question that all novices confront in their own way. Why did you yearn so fiercely to be a magi?”
Another long silence fell as Gregory tried to find the right words to reply. Why did I want it so much? I loved the stories that Mother told me, but it had to be more than that? Was it stubbornness? Wanting to prove everyone wrong when they told me it wouldn’t happen?
Gregory was still lost in thought when the carriage began to slow. Jolted from his thoughts, he blinked, looking out the window to see a tall white wall stretching into the distance.
“Wesrik,” Bishop told him. “You’ve been thinking for over an hour.”
“I’m sorry, Proctor,” he apologized. “I still don’t have an answer for you. I think it might have been a number of factors, but my mother’s death played a large role in it. She always encouraged my childish whim, and then she was gone. It might have been the faint hope that, as a magi, I could find answers as to what happened.”
“You held to it for years, against your father’s objections and the villagers deriding your dream as fantasy. That determination will help you in the coming years. If you can hold to something as strongly as you did that wish, you will go far, Novice. I hope you find what you desire.”
Bowing his head, Gregory felt humbled, “Thank you, Proctor. I will do my best.”
“Good. Your mother would have wanted that,” Bishop replied. “Now, turn your eyes to the city. There is only one city grander than Wesrik in all of the empire.”
“Hikari,” Gregory said the name of the capital on reflex.
“Yes. Wesrik has only a fourth of its population, but as home of the academy, it has almost equal sway in the empire.”
Gregory looked out the window at the homes and businesses that spilled beyond the wall. The main road going to the city was paved, but he could see that other streets were dirt. Gregory noticed that even the outermost buildings were better built than the ones in Alturis, but they did not compare to what he could see inside the walls. As they neared one of the main gates, the carriage slowed even more, joining the queue of wagons, carriages, and foot traffic funneling into the city.
“How many people?” Gregory half asked as he stared.
“Thousands of times the size of your village,” Bishop answered. “Wesrik was last known to house over half a million people.”
Gregory blinked, not really able to comprehend a number that big. “How can that be?”
“Because here, the empire pours resources into helping the city run. You’ll learn. All novices learn how the empire runs. As you advance, you’ll also help the empire run.”
Getting closer to the open gates, Gregory began to realize just how massive the walls really were. They were thirty feet tall and half that thick, and had been built of white stone that joined together with barely any seam visible between the stones. The carriage rattled through the corridor between the inner and outer gates. Gregory caught sight of metal grating that could be dropped to close the passage, as well as the numerous arrows slits and murder holes above them.
“When was the city last attacked, Proctor?” Gregory asked as they exited the tunnel.
“The last eurtik incursion five hundred years ago,” Bishop replied, “if the histories are correct.”
His next question was forgotten as the lower ring came into view. The streets were cobbled, and the buildings were constructed of wood or stone with slate roofs. His mind reeled, trying to think how much space even half of these buildings would take up in Alturis, and here, they were lined up as far as he could see.
“The lower ring, unlike the outer ring, is regularly patrolled and cared for. The cheapest of registered merchants can be found inside this ring. All kinds of goods, entertainment, and other distractions can be found here, for a price.”
Eyes darting all about, Gregory noted that most of the buildings on the main street were businesses of one kind or another. The little he could see down the side streets and alleys hinted that that was where people lived.
They traveled on the main road as it wound to the north, the sun starting its descent as midday came and went. It took them over an hour to reach the next gate. The walls here towered forty feet into the air, while still being half as thick. Looking back, Gregory was able to see the slope of the ground which helped raise the second wall even higher. The gates here were thicker, and reinforced with bands of metal.
When they passed through the tunnel from the lower ring to the inner ring, Gregory’s jaw dropped again. The inner ring had buildings of stone— mostly marble— with solid sloped roofs that would never have to worry about the weather. The wealth on display was hard for him to even think about. The buildings were larger here, taking up more space than in the previous ring, and the signs informed him that these shops were more ornate.
A four-story building that took up more space than any other stood almost isolated from its closest neighbors. The traffic coming and going from it was significantly less than any of the other buildings they had passed.
“Auction house?” Gregory muttered, puzzled by the unfamiliar word on the sign.
“The auction houses of the empire help facilitate the selling of goods not normally found in regular shops. Their goods can range from art, treasures, rare ingredients for crafts, or in the rarest cases, items of power from other kingdoms, ancient ruins, or from noble families who find themselves fading. Nothing inside those walls fails to impress those who go to bid on them.”
“Have you ever been, Proctor?”
“Once, many years ago,” Bishop said softly, her eyes going distant.
Seeing her withdraw into a memory, Gregory stayed silent, but he did notice how her hand touched the hilt of her sword. His focus shifted when he caught sight of the academy tower thrusting into the air inside the next ring of walls.
It took them nearly another hour to reach the next gate. The stone walls here towered sixty feet into the air, and the gates were no longer wood, but solid metal. Before them stood two dozen guards and a magi in emerald robes.
“Ah, it appears we are almost at the end of our journey together, Novice,” Bishop said. “I will see you settled before we part ways.”
“My thanks, Proctor.”
As the carriage approached, one of the guards stepped forward to inspect it before he motioned to the gate. One of the massive winches atop the wall began to move, and one of the metal doors swung ponderously open for them.
Gregory felt the end of his old life and the start of his new one as the carriage rolled forward. Memories of friends, family, and even a lover flashed before him. Smile in place, Gregory felt his aether stir inside of him as they crossed the threshold of the academy grounds.
Chapter Thirteen
The carriage came to a stop just inside the gates. Bishop got out, with Gregory close behind her. The driver was quick to hand down their bags, not wanting to delay them.
Gregory blinked at the large building just inside the gate that abutted the wall. Five stories tall, it was one of the tallest he had ever seen.
“Come on, Novice,” Bishop said, shouldering her bags and already moving toward the building.
Gregory quickly picked up his bag and hurried after her, forcing his mouth shut. When he entered the building, he managed to not gape, but his eyes were still wide. The interior was all white marble with streaks of black and red. A number of small dark wood tables dotted the room, with cushions next to them. Decorative screens and potted plants helped break up the room, so it was not a massive cavern.
Gregory just managed to keep from bumping into Bishop when she stopped in front of a desk. The tall redhead sitting there turned to address Bishop first. “Proctor Bishop, you brought us one? First one in three years.”
“John Hardin? I’m surprised you’re still in this position,” Bishop replied. “I wish it was more, but no
one knows what Aether plans.”
“I can’t refute that,” Hardin chuckled as he started to pull papers out of the desk. “Fill out the forms. You know the drill.”
“Thank you,” Bishop bowed her head, accepting the stack.
Gregory sat at one of the low tables with Bishop while she filled out the forms. His attention was drawn to the double doors when they opened again, revealing another proctor with a novice. The novice was slender, with pale skin and long platinum blonde hair flowing down her back. She glanced at Gregory with startlingly blue eyes, looking away when he smiled.
“Ah, Proctor Harrison. Unlike some others, you always bring us at least one novice every year,” Hardin said in greeting.
“Some of us haven’t been banished to the worst of the fringe,” Harrison’s voice carried a rough edge.
“Some haven’t kissed enough polished asses to be rewarded with a more cushioned post, either,” Bishop said as she filled out the next form. “I wonder when some proctors last had to defend their novices from anything more than salty soup?”
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