Bibliomancer ~ 7!

~ Seven ~

Sam made his way down the grid-like streets of the city before finally winding up in the marketplace proper, which was everything he’d dreamed it would be.

The scent of grilling meat, musky perfume, and the odor of unwashed bodies assaulted his nose. Colorful pennants and standards fluttered in the air, suspended from rope lines crisscrossing the streets. Those line held a secondary purpose too: supporting the red and gold paper lanterns that swayed gently in the breeze. There were shops everywhere, selling just about everything he could ever hope to buy—from swords and armor, to books, parchment, and rare crafting ingredients. Hasty, open-air stalls dotted alleyways and formed little islands in the flow of traffic, while street peddlers wove through the ebb and flow of potential shoppers, attempting to hawk their wares on anyone with a few coins to rub together.

Although Sam may have looked poor to the casual observer, he was anything but.

While undergoing the host of tests needed for his DIVE pod experience, his parents had kindly informed Sam that they’d made a sizeable deposit into his player account, which the techs explained would be transferred into the game as soon as he spawned. It seemed strange that a game like this would be pay to play—especially considering just how expensive it was to get access in the first place—but that was just the way things were. And truthfully, with how immersive the experience was, Sam could easily envision gamers all over the world lining up in droves to throw fistfuls of money at the maker of Eternium.

Sam counted himself among that number. His parents had dropped a whooping fifty grand into his player account; which at the ten to one ratio translated into five-thousand in-game gold. Which was a lot of money, though he’d have to pace himself since that amount would need to last his entire stay inside the game. He was starting out with some serious advantages, and he knew that, but if he wanted to win and have a competitive build it was still wise to be frugal and discerning with just how he spent his limited supply of coin.

He bought a steaming turkey leg, dripping with grease and juice, and made his way past an oddly shaped building—the angles were wrong, the doors disjointed, not a window in sight—which turned out to be a bardic college. Eventually, the enormous circular tower Kathleen had mentioned came into view like a phantom taking form on the horizon. The tower domineered much of the skyline this far east; as far as Sam could tell, it was perfectly circular and about fifty feet tall. Truthfully, it was a rather unimpressive sight. The building shifted color every minute or so, changing endlessly from red to purple to blue then back to purple, which was kinda cool.

But other than that?

Eh. Big shrug.

To Sam, it looked like an unadorned soup can tucked away in some dusty back corner of the pantry. The rest of the city was stunning, and he’d assumed this place would be even more so. A vision of a certain school for wizards cavorted through his head—stately and graceful with its arched bridges, conical towers, and tooth-like crenellations—but this was a far cry from that.

Even if its physical appearance was rather lackluster, just like when dating someone it was what was inside that really mattered. He trotted through the portcullis in the outer defensive wall, which encircled the entire tower. Inside was a large courtyard, though it was just about as boring and unremarkable as the tower itself. In this particular part of the courtyard, there were a few trees with stone benches positioned beneath for the contemplative soul. But… there was no art, no epic statues of wizards in battle, no real forms of self-expression at all. It looked less like a college of the arcane and more like a stuffy middle-ages IRS building; an establishment dedicated to upholding stuffy laws and the endless minutiae of a grand bureaucracy.

But Same knew on a gut level that he had to be wrong.

He’d played a ton of MMOs and RPGs in his years, and though the Mage’s Guild typically had some kind of formal hierarchy, it was never outright boring. Usually the mage-based quest lines were some of the funniest in any game he’d ever played. Since magic in the world of Eternium was so rare, the quest lines were probably a hundred times cooler. This was probably one of those don’t-judge-a-book-by-its-cover things. Had to be. Pretty please?

There were several small pockets of people loitering around the courtyard, talking in hushed voices. They were all decked out in robes, though the quality of the gear was all over the place—ranging from plain brown robes to elaborate black robes trimmed in gold or silver and glowing with mystic sigils of power. At least, Sam assumed they were mystic sigils of power. None of them wore the plain linen robes of a starter player, and suddenly Sam felt more out of place than he had at the graduation party. Was there some kind of dress code no one had informed him of? If so, should he have picked up fancy mage gear before trekking over here?

As he watched, one mage lifted a hand and muttered some unheard spell. The next instant, the whole tower flashed, changing from red to a deep purple color. A group on the other side of the courtyard—these dressed in red robes, accented with orange, gold, and shifting runes that glowed like hot embers—visibly scowled. Sam wasn’t sure what the significance of that was, but the group that had cast the spell looked awfully proud of themselves, smug satisfaction radiating off them in waves.

Sam skirted away from the purple group, angling toward a boxy wooden door which let into the tower. The reds seemed extraordinarily grumpy, and the purples seemed like they might be looking for a fight—a new guy like Sam would be the perfect target for a bunch of mystical bullies. That was something he was hoping to avoid if at all possible. The idea of having to wade through even more jerks inside a videogame just seemed ridiculous. He was here to kill monsters, get some epic loot, level up, and have the time of his life.

So, it would be a hard pass on the college drama.  

He’d made it most of the way to the door when a voice cut through the relative silence of the courtyard like a hot knife passing through a pad of butter. And that voice did not sound at all happy or amused. “You there! What in the love of the Accords do you think you’re doing here, hmmmm?”

Sam faltered, reluctantly turning to face a stern-faced mage wearing sand-colored robes edged in gold, who was storming across the courtyard like an angry rodeo bull. He was tall, at least six feet, broad across the chest and shoulders with brown hair that flowed down to his shoulders. His jawline looked sharp enough to cut glass. Sam instantly thought of Barron Calloway, even though the two only had a passing resemblance to one another. As the man got closer, Sam realized he didn’t really look like Barron at all, though his bearing was the same. Entitled. Condescending. Powerful.

Gulp.    

“This is the esteemed Mage’s College,” the man barked, planting himself in front of Sam to bar his way forward. “Not some hostel for traveling vagrants to beg at. I’m not sure where you’re supposed to be, but it’s not here. So why don’t you turn around and scuttle back the way you’ve come, peasant. I’m sure the city guards would be more than happy to show you how to swing around a stick or take a punch to the face.”

The man sneered as he spoke of the guards, and a round of snide snickers broke out across the grounds.

Wow. Rude to the max.

Instead of lashing out, Sam smiled and bit back an acrid reply. After all, he did look more than a little out of place next to all the finely dressed men and women standing around the courtyard. Men and women who were all now staring daggers at him as though he’d just tracked mud onto the good Persian rug. Sam wasn’t quite sure how to feel or act. He’d never fit in with his ‘peer group’, but he’d never felt more like an outsider than he did right then. An outcast. A leper. One thing was for certain, however: he was an adult, a college graduate, and he wasn’t about to let a few nasty looks scare him away.

“No, good sir, you’ve got it all wrong!” Sam replied, raising his hands in protest, and trying to placate the man. “I’m not begging. You see, I am supposed to be here. I have a ques—”

“Not likely,” the man shot back, cutting Sam off with a scowl. “These esteemed grounds are not for your kind. This is a place of learning. Of knowledge. Of magic. Commoners do not walk the halls of such an institution as this, and you have neither the bearing of an aristocrat nor the…”

He paused, lips pursed into a thin line as his gaze roved over Sam’s lackluster appearance, “demeanor of a wealthy traveler. I doubt very much you have the funds required to learn even the simplest of spells, and that doesn’t even cover the licensure fee.”

“Wait, so is this a shakedown, or is all some giant… pay to play thing.”

“I think, perhaps, you are finally starting to understand the rudiments of the conversation, you vagabond. So leave. Now. Before I punish you. Severely.” His eyes glinted with a feverish light that gave Sam pause.

“Whatever, jerk,” Sam grumbled, offering the man his back. “If that’s the way it is, I’ll just skip over this dumb tutorial. It’s not like I really need whatever you scammers are selling. My class allows me to learn magic naturally on my own, so I don’t need this.”

An unnatural hush fell over the courtyard, and Sam just assumed it was because everyone was reeling from the totally sick burn he’d just laid down, but when he glanced back over one shoulder, he lost a little bit of his swagger. Everyone was staring at him like he’d sprouted a second head and turned into a dragon while simultaneously threatening to scorch the College from high orbit.

“You don’t just learn magic, you uneducated swine,” the jerk whispered, his voice nevertheless carrying over the courtyard. “That’s not how this works. Not how any of this works. You and your kind can’t even begin to comprehend the sheer responsibility and dedication required of a licensed mage! We practitioners of the arcane arts can create and shape the elements—we are the heralds of all knowledge and the brotherhood of secret arts. Our ways can only be learned in our vaulted halls of academia!”

“Nope.” Sam shook his head. “I can totally learn magic without you. Already know some.”

He thrust one hand out, taking aim at a tree branch, then unleashing an invisible wind blade which sheered through the wooden limb with a near-silent swish. The branch dropped, clattering on the cobblestones. The noise was soft, but in the silence that followed it seemed as loud as a ringing bell. Worse, every single eye was fixed on the branch.

“So, like I said,” Sam added, crossing his arms, “I don’t need you guys. I was just doing this because I got a Quest prompt, but if this is the way you run the Guild or College or whatever it is, then I’m gone.”

The guy’s face had gone ghostly white, and he stammered for a moment, clearly surprised. “Everyone, block the entrance. He can’t be allowed to leave.”

Sam froze, unsure what in the world was happening as a horde of mages in colorful robes stormed toward the gate he’d entered through a moment before, forming into orderly battle ranks.

“Now,” the man’s voice took on a dark edge, and he stepped heavily in front of Sam, “explain yourself at once.”

Sam rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might just fly out of his skull. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do since I got here, ya walnut. I’m an Aeolus Sorcerer and I already have both Instinctual Casting and Wind Blade, plus I learn class-specific spells naturally every third level without any training. Maybe if you had just listened in the first place, we wouldn’t be having any issues. But I’m done with your College. I don’t want to be a part of any group that treats other people this way. So please get out of my way.”

“Well that simply isn’t an option.” The man folded his arms. The color was back in his face, and if anything he looked even more pleased and self-assured than before. “Since you already know a mage-class spell, you are now required by Kingdom decree to register with the College and sign the Accords, which govern our kind and preserve our Society.”

“The Accords?”

“They are the only thing that protect us from Rogue Mages and keep powerful spellcasters out of politics and governmental positions.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sam started rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Not ten seconds ago you were trying to kick me out, and now you won’t let me leave unless I sign up with your College?”

The man looked grim as the grave. “It is the way of our kind. If you have even so much as a single mage spell, you are required to sign. And at your expense, I might add.”

“You’re crazy,” Sam replied flatly. “And what if I just say no, huh? Are you going to kill me? Lock me up? What?”

“Refuse, and we will mark you as a Rogue Mage and place a bounty so large on your head that you will never know a day of peace. Moreover, since you claim to be an actual mage class, you will be expected not only to sign the Accords but to become a full member of the College. This means mandatory training, College-issued assignments, and a pre-approved course load.”

Sam glanced at the guy, then at the line of Mages cutting off his only potential exit.

He was a level one caster with exactly one spell—a spell he’d only ever used twice. If he made a stand here, there was no way he would walk out of the courtyard alive, and even after respawn he’d be stuck with a powerful and obviously vindictive enemy. He’d been treated poorly—and that was putting thing mildly—but at the same time, he’d come to join the College, and now he had his chance. Sam wanted to storm off in a huff, but that was more out of pride than anything else. Chances were that the smart thing to do here, the pragmatic thing to do, was to put the insult behind him and move on.

Finally, after mulling it over for a minute, Sam nodded. “Fine. You guys aren’t giving me a lot of options here. I guess I’ll join. Where do I go and who do I need to talk to?”

The mage broke into a huge malevolent grin. “You are already talking to him.  I am Octavius Igenitor, Peak Student in charge of new Initiate processing.”

He glanced at the fallen tree branch. “You will pay for that, and for everything else as well. Now come, we have a lot of paperwork to do.”

Wait, this guy was going to be in charge of him? Sam gulped and felt like dissolving into the earth. Oh no. He felt like an unfortunate toad who just leapt from a sizzling hot frying pan directly into the wizard-conjured fire.