Bibliomancer ~ 9!

Big. ol'. Chapter. Enjoy!

~ Nine ~

By the time Sam was finished with classes, registration, and all the other administrative red tape of his first day at the College, he felt as wrung out as an old dish towel. Which was crazy, because he hadn’t really done all that much in the grand scheme of things—he hadn’t killed any mobs, stormed any castles, or saved any damsels in distress. Technically, he’d finished the Baby Steps Quest, earning himself upgraded Neophyte’s Robes and an extra one-hundred experience, but that wasn’t anything to write home about.

Sure, he’d walked around the city for a while and done a little magic, but a typical day on the Berkley campus was far more strenuous than this had been. He wasn’t even close to leveling up yet. He’d gained a whooping five hundred experience points so far, which put him about halfway to level two. So, pretty much nothing there to account for his exhaustion. Sam reckoned it had something to do with the testing prior to spawning. Well, that and his time with Mage Akora. Although the class had been little more than a guided meditation session, compressing his core and widening his channels had been taxing.

The sun had set into the horizon a few hours back, and though Sam wanted to head back out into town—go explore a little more, maybe meet a few more travelers and find someplace to crash—he decided against it. He had a big morning coming up, and an unfortunately early one at that. At seven A.M. he had an appointment before the College bigwigs to sign ‘The Accords’ and become an officially licensed mage. Yay! Another one-hundred gold gone in the blink of an eye. Once he was done with that, he had a pair of classes back-to-back at noon and two—Mage Shield and Basics of Offensive Spell Casters—which had both cost a pretty penny as well.

Thankfully, he could afford the hefty price tag. Once he signed the Accords and completed a few more classes, he’d finally be able to get out on his own for a while. He planned to do some questing and play the game the way he wanted too. So far, the College was basically a train wreck, but it would all pay off in the long run—Sam was sure of it.

So, instead of heading back into the city and finding a proper Inn, he metaphorically bit the bullet and decided to stay on the college grounds. The cost of the room was steep, one gold a night, but he figured he was paying for the convenience of not having to trek all the way across the city every day. Plus, this was something he’d more or less expected. On campus housing was always a racket, so why would this be any different? He smiled as he rounded a corner and found his room straight ahead: a plain wooden door with an odd glyph gouged into the wood.

Home sweet home.

Sam fished a small stone, about the size of a quarter, from his pocket. The stone itself was perfectly smooth, tar black, polished to a bright sheen, and worked with a burning symbol that mirrored the glyph on the door. He held the rock up, pressing it against the ward-locked room; there was a *click* as some mechanism gave way and the door swung inward on silent hinges. Like much of the rest of the college, the room’s interior was rather… unimpressive, was probably too mild a word. Underwhelming? Lackluster? Hard to put his finger on it exactly. But one word he could most definitely decide upon was small. The room was about the size of a storage closet, and even more claustrophobic than his dorm had been.

There was a cot—not a twin bed, but an honest to god camping cot—on a weathered wooden frame, topped by a thin canvas mattress and a green woolen blanket. There wasn’t even a pillow. Beside the bed was a compact wooden nightstand with a brass oil lamp, a chipped porcelain bowl, and a pitcher of water. Clearly the College was putting its best foot forward to impress the new recruits. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, feeling even more defeated than he had during his time in the jungle being relentlessly pursued by a man-eating slug the size of a minivan. That had been worse by far, of course, but then the test was supposed to be awful. This though? This was supposed to be the fun, cool part of the game.

So far, Sam was wildly indifferent. If this was the tutorial for all spellcasters, this game was going to tank for sure.

“No,” he muttered to himself, shaking off his disgruntlement. “No point in whining about things. Maybe I can’t change my circumstances, but I can change my attitude about it! Chin up, ‘ol chap, it’s going to get better! Besides, I just need to sleep here, not live here.”

With that settled, he unloaded his few meager possessions, splashed a little water onto his face from the pitcher. Lukewarm, he felt silly to have expected anything different. Sam collapsed onto the intentionally comfortless cot, thinking about how backpacking in Europe might have been the way to go after all. Since there was no pillow, he balled up his starter robes and jammed them under his head. Sam expected to have a hard time drifting off, what with the ‘mattress’ feeling like concrete, but he hadn’t closed his eyes for more than a moment before it was time to wake up. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, nor did he recall tossing and turning even once in the night. Out like a light.

When Sam sat up and swung his legs out over the edge of the bed, he expected to get hit with some kind of Well Rested bonus, but he actually felt terrible. Like someone had beat him about the head and shoulders with a baseball bat. That didn’t seem even remotely right. Ugh. If he wanted to get a bite to eat before signing the Accords and starting his day, he really needed to get moving. So, even though he felt sore and sleepy, he hauled himself from the painfully thin mattress, geared up, and slipped out of the room.

His stomach let out a gurgle of sharp hunger, so he stopped by the College cafeteria. Sam picked up a bowl of tasteless gruel which did nothing for his tongue, but filled the hole gnawing through his center. Although, upon further reflection, Sam decided it was a distinct possibility that the food was actually excellent and that it was just his terrible perception at work again. Either way, in no possible set of circumstances could it be called an enjoyable breakfast. He scarfed the food down as quickly as possible, grimacing the whole time. He then dropped the bowl off with the kitchen staff and wound his way through the strange and twisted hallways; working his way toward the rendezvous spot with Octavius.

Navigating the hallways was a tricky bit of business, as he’d come to find out.

For one, the hallways all looked strikingly similar—no art to set them apart, no landmarks to help him get his bearing—and two, thanks to something called ‘spatial magic’, the laws of physics didn’t hold true in this place. Corridors didn’t connect in a way that made logical sense, and space literally folded in on itself. This had the effect of making the interior of the College a hundred times larger than the exterior would suggest. But to the discerning eye, there was a set of runes worked into each archway or doorframe, which acted as rudimentary instructions—assuming the traveler knew how to decipher them.

Guess who didn't have a discerning eye. Lousy low perception...

The runic database was quite massive, and most of it was incomprehensible to Sam, but Octavius had carefully pointed out a number of different symbols. Including one for the grand entrance hall, which was where they were to meet. The symbol was an oblong circle, intersected by a variety of odd lines—like bike spokes—with a crescent-shaped mark jutting out from the top of one spoke. Sam turned left four times, then doubled back, retracing his steps by taking four rights. In theory, he should’ve arrived back by the cafeteria, but instead he found himself standing in a circular chamber with high vaulted ceilings and fluted pillars arranged in a circle.

“I can't decide if I love or hate this place,” he muttered under his breath.

This was easily the most interesting room he’d seen inside the Mage’s College so far.  Sam was there for only a few heartbeats before the *click-clacking* of boots on tile floors drifted through the air, followed in short order by a shimmer of electric-blue light.

Octavius Igenitor seemingly materialized out of thin air, even though Sam knew that was simply one of the many tricks of spatial magic. The Peak Student in charge of new Initiate processing looked as disgruntled as ever, a sneer perpetually worked into the lines of his face, his well-coiffed hair swept back and away from his forehead. He’d helped Sam get situated yesterday, but it was obvious the man had a serious axe to grind; it was equally obvious that he was looking to grind said axe against Sam’s skull.

Any slip-up on Sam’s part would be met with strict and terrible repercussions, Sam was sure. In the grand scheme of things, Octavius was a nobody, but in a very small realm he had the power of a dictator. Unfortunately, Sam happened to fall inside that small realm. Sam had known guys like Octavius all his life, and the best way to deal with them was to either avoid them entirely, or—if that simply wasn’t an option—then ensure they had no reason to cause trouble.

“You’re here,” Octavius stated the obvious while folding his hands behind his back. “Oh, goody.”

His tone said that things weren’t good at all, and that he was in fact deeply disappointed that Sam was on time. Abyss, to Sam’s ears the man sounded disappointed that he had even survived the night. Maybe the pain in his head when he woke up was from less natural causes than he had thought.

“Well, there’s no time to waste, Neophyte. The Archmage and the rest of the Council will already be assembled. It would be unwise to keep them waiting for long.” He turned, then paused and glanced over one shoulder at Sam. “Also. Take heed, Neophyte. It would be equally unwise to show the Archmage or the Council any of the disrespect you’ve shown me thus far. If you insult them or embarrass me in any way, I swear you will suffer in ways you can’t even begin to comprehend. Now, attend me.”

He offered Sam his back and marched through an archway on the right of the chamber. Sam wanted to throw his shoe at the back of Octavius’ stupid ego-swollen head, but he bit his tongue, kept his shoes firmly on his feet, and reluctantly trailed after his direct ‘superior’. He didn’t like the guy, not even a little, but he didn’t have to like everyone. Sooner or later, he’d be a licensed mage and fully equipped for the world of adventure, and then he could beat feet and put Octavius and his bad attitude firmly in the rearview mirror. Until then, he just had to play along.

The Peak Student led him unwaveringly through passageway after passageway, corridor after corridor, taking turns seemingly at random until they finally stepped out into another chamber that was easily the strangest place Sam had seen since entering Eternium. The oversized room was spherical shaped, and so large that it couldn’t conceivably fit inside the tower proper; not without some serious arcane prestidigitation. Half the room was covered in stadium style benches, allowing spectators a perfect view of whatever happened on the main floor. Speaking of spectators, there were a bunch of them filling out a few rows of the stands. Less than he thought there should be, but still more than he expected in the first place.

Another series of seats—these far fewer in number and far cushier looking—were on a platform in the center of the room. These seats were also occupied, and the mages in those chairs almost glowed with power and authority, dressed in formal regalia which was as bright and ostentatious as a peacock’s plumage. A single throne-like chair, larger and grander than the rest, was filled by an enormously obese man with cruel, piggy eyes who sported dazzling multi-colored robes and a curled staff that looked a little like a shepherd’s crook—though one made of pure gold and encrusted with jewels.

All of those details, however, were eclipsed by the true centerpiece of the room: a gigantic glass tube, larger than the largest redwoods in the Sequoia National Park, extended from floor to ceiling. Curiously, the tube narrowed in the middle as though it were some massive hourglass, and in the center, where the glass would have meet, a book hung suspended in midair. The tome was just floating there, radiating light and power like a small, personal star. Colored lights raced through the tubes, condensing into tiny beams of energy that shot into—and were apparently absorbed by—the strange book. Looking at the tube, book, and the assembled mages, Sam couldn’t help but feel deeply uncertain about all of this.

It was nothing Sam could point to exactly, no tangible item, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention all the same and a thoroughly unpleasant tingle raced along his spine. There was something subtly off about this whole display; especially the stony faces and lifeless gazes of the council members arrayed on their platform. There was nothing Sam could do about it now, though. He’d already come too far, and if he didn’t sign The Accords he’d get slapped with the label Rogue Mage and his days as a magic user would be done for. He’d have to go back to the drawing board and play as a ranger or a fighter, and that didn’t even account for all the money he’d already spent at the College.

This was weird, and he didn’t like it, but for now this was his future.

Ahead of him, Octavius cleared his throat and shot a glare at Sam strong enough to strip paint. Octavius tilted his head and pointed at the steps beside him with one finger. Sam nodded, feeling oddly numb, and joined him.

“Most esteemed Council, and our Excellence,” Octavius formally intoned, dipping his head in a bow. “May I present a new candidate for induction, Sam_K. Though not a noble or a native of our lands, he has shown himself to be a rather rare Aeolus Sorcerer, a natural mage, and will undoubtedly be a boon to our most prestigious order. It was I who found him, and I who convinced him to join our ranks—not merely as a Licensed Mage, but as a full member.”

The man in the grandiose chair stood with a groan, his girth making the process precarious, and raised a hand, shushing the quiet chattering from the stands. “Well meet, Peak Student Octavius Igenitor. Once more you bring honor to your house and to the College. If you continue as you have, soon you will be ready to advance once more and join the ranks of our Journeymen. As for you, boy…”

The man pinned Sam in place with beady, cold eyes, “If you work hard and follow the will of your betters, you too may find your way into our exalted ranks. But the road is an arduous, costly one and requires the utmost obedience.”

 “The first step on that journey, a step of humility and trust in the College, is to sign the Accords.” He turned and waved a plump hand toward the book suspended in the huge columns of glass. “The Accords, you see, are the sacred pact of our people. Magic is a powerful and potentially destructive force, and allowing it into the hands of the uncouth—those wholly unfit and lacking moral authority—is unacceptable.”

“Those who do not bend to our way of thinking must never have access to the deep secrets of our ways. It is by signing these Accords that we all acknowledge that fundamental truth. It is by signing that you, Neophyte, submit yourself to the tutelage, tradition, and authority of this College. By signing you recognize that your wild will must be supplemented by the wisdom of ours. Do you, Sam_K, agree to sign the Accords?”

The question hung heavy in the air; every eye was fixed on Sam now, and the whole room seemed to have stopped breathing as they waited on his answer. Every word the Archmage had said set Sam on edge, but he was probably just overacting. And besides, this was just a game, Sam reminded himself. It felt like more than a game because of the graphics and how immersive the experience was, but in reality this was just a game. He wasn’t really signing away his life or his rights. In all likelihood, Sam was going through some preprogrammed cutscene that all magic users were probably going to have to endure. He was making a mountain out of a molehill, which was just silly. He shook away his unease and nodded.

“Of course, I’m ready to sign,” he croaked, his throat oddly dry. “I already paid the fee, right? Time to learn some cool magic. Let’s do this thing.”

“Excellent,” the Archmage breathed, rubbing his flabby hands together greedily. “Then I declare you are no longer a Neophyte, but a Novice of our exalted Order. Approach, Novice Sam_K, and sign the Accords as is our tradition!”

The whole room let out an odd, collective, palpable sigh of relief; then promptly burst into a round of wild applause. Octavius grabbed Sam by the shoulder and steered him up a set of marble stairs, stopping on a platform directly in front of the glowing book. The floating tome sprang open at once, the pages fluttering like mad before finally coming to a stop on a blank section with a line running across the bottom—ready and waiting for Sam to put his name on something he didn't fully understand. 

His lawyer parents would be having fits right now. Although it was probably a dumb thought, Sam couldn’t help but feel the book was actually alive somehow; it’s open pages strangely reminded him of a predatory animal ready to snap its mouth closed on some unsuspecting animal.

Sam licked his lips, sweat beading on his forehead, and extended a trembling hand. A beautiful quill of shining blue light—a construct of pure mana—materialized above the book, just mere inches from his outstretched fingers. Before Sam could overthink the situation and harpoon his chances of success with the College, he grasped the quill. Energy surged through his hand, and he quickly jotted his name across the line. A small arc of power leapt from the Accords the second Sam finished writing, racing up his arm and blasting into the core of his being like a jolt of raw lightning. As that power washed through him like a wave, sweet relief and sharp-minded clarity followed.

“Why was I so worried about this?” Sam muttered, genuinely confused about how he could have had any possible reservations. Maybe he didn’t fully understand what The Accords were, but it was now as crystal clear that they were good. Maybe Sam had a few issues with the College itself—but all that had to do with the snobby people. People like Octavius. Certainly, it had nothing to do with The Accords, which were the pillars that kept the institution from collapsing down on top of everyone. In fact, The Accords, the rule of law, were the only thing that kept people like Octavius in check.

A message appeared while those thoughts churned inside his skull:

Quest alert: The Arcane Path I. You have joined the Mage’s College and signed the Accords, stepping onto the Arcane Path! Exp: 500.

For being one of the first 100 Travelers to sign the Accords, Reputation gain has been doubled! (Note: this is uncommon in a harsh, uncaring world such as Eternia, but so is being one of the first to do something!) Reputation with the Mage’s College has been increased by 2000 points, from ‘Neutral’ directly to ‘Friendly’ (bypassing ‘Reluctantly friendly’). 1000 reputation points remain to reach ‘Friend of the Mage’s College’ status.

Since this is your first reputation gain, please note that there are many distinct levels of reputation. From lowest to highest: Blood Feud, Loathed, Hated, Hostile, Cautious, Neutral, Reluctantly Friendly, Friendly, Friend, Ally, and Extended Family. There are one thousand points between each level.

As he read, Sam felt a new surge of power; golden light swirled around him in a cloud, lifting him into the air. He’d never felt anything even remotely like the sheer euphoria zipping through his veins and blazing along his nerve endings. It was the bliss of a good night’s sleep, the exhilaration of winning a marathon or acing a midterm, the intoxication of power and a sense that nothing was impossible. Putting two and two together, Sam quickly realized that he must’ve leveled up. If this was what leveling up felt like… Sam needed to revise his earlier thoughts. 

Eternium would never go out of business.No matter how hard the game play was, or how much it cost, people would give up their left arm just to experience this brief flash of ecstasy over and over again. Then, just like that, Sam was back on the ground, the light fading and dying while the onlookers hooted, hollered, and cheered, a legion of fists pumping in the air. Sam wanted to check out his character sheet, but he didn’t have a chance.

Octavius led him out of the room, then twirled around and stood in front of him, arms crossed, and a wicked grin on his otherwise smug face. “Congratulations on leveling up, Novice. Now, let me welcome you to our exalted ranks by giving you your first formal College assignment.” 

He paused, his smile deepening in a supremely unfriendly way. “Sewer Detail.”

Quest alert: The Arcane Path II (Ongoing). As a Licensed Mage and Novice of the Mage College, you are required to complete daily chores or officially sanctioned Assignments on behalf of the College! Report daily to Peak Student Octavius Igenitor for details—failing to do so will earn you fines or other punitive measures and can result in loss of reputation with the Mage’s College!

Oh joy, Sam’s stomach started sinking. Sewer Detail; that was going to be fun. He wondered if it was as crappy a job as it sounded.