Aeres Academy - Chapter 18 preview

Rather than wait around and complain, I scurried backward towards Vethan. The administrator was his usual efficient self, already having the documentation ready – a simple piece of paper that I made my mark upon –along with the tally book for my earnings.

Just like that, I was down to two cores and change.

After which, I acquired directions to my room and made my way over. Amusingly enough, it wasn’t that difficult to locate – literally out the side door to the squat building we had been in. 

The academy itself sprawled behind the gates, the complex taking up half a block of space on either side – enough to cover the fault itself and then some. As I exited the administration and class building, I glanced to my side and noted the fault, checking that it had not broken open yet. Not that I would expect it, after the slaughter we had enacted.

Realistically, being in a waning period, the chances of a full break were low, though you never knew. There were creatures whose entire life cycle involved cracking their way out of the lower levels to give birth, and in so doing driving dozens, if not hundreds, of monsters out ahead of them.

Finding the residential buildings was not hard and diagonally opposite it on the other side of the fault were the combat training grounds. There were large awnings breaking up the space, enclosed rooms and the like, but most of all, in the center, a large amphitheater space.

On the opposite side of the complex, a cluster of smaller buildings surrounded a larger, squat and heavily built one. It leant itself more towards the brutalist architecture of the ’50s than the typical medieval / Georgian form that made up the majority of the academy, and it all but screamed “bank.” Only in this case, probably armory and bank. 

Making my way to the accommodations, I eyed the massive building. Unlike university residences back home, this had a little more class, bringing to mind more Georgian townhouse than an institution for correction. I could only hope that they had enough space for us all. The bottom and second floors were likely ours, the way the balconies were lit and music emanating from one of the rooms indicated the top floor was not only filled but said individuals were in the mood to party. 

At a guess, that was probably the academy-sponsored delving groups.

I had to admit, I was still hesitant on whether I’d join one of the academy groups. There were obvious advantages – you often were working with people who had the same training and had the same ideas about safety and proper delving procedures. The academy also had access to a decent armory of enchanted equipment and direct lines to alchemists and crafters – but there were negatives too. Chief among them, the tithe amount that went to the academy, which was – early on – higher than what most guilds would require. Never mind going solo.

The fact that we even had a choice was rather nice, what with so many academies nothing more than feeder farms for guilds and companies.

While it was common to join an adventuring guild, there were other options for delving. Working directly for a company was the most common way to enter a dungeon, adventuring through the first few levels under their guidance. It was safer, and the profits – when taken overall – sufficient that most companies could eke out a decent and regular income by putting a few adventurers and a lot of cleaners on salary. 

On the other hand, it was not the best deal for the individuals involved. While these were corporations, they were closer to early-stage or late-stage capitalism in the kind of safeguards there were. A bad day or an injury could wipe out an individual with little hope of return unless they could swing a proper healing visit.

After the first few levels of the dungeon proper, when dangers increased significantly, adventuring was mostly an independents or guilds affair. Companies were present but they had a recruitment and retention problem, especially the deeper a company team delved. The risk-reward ratios rarely worked out for the company or the adventurers, especially considering the kind of individual who was likely to cross the fifth floor, never mind the twentieth.

Then, of course, you had the fact that many delvers, after they hit the third layer, just never returned to the surface. Not only was it actively painful as mana leeched from their bodies, lowering their mana density to normal levels and leaving them – relatively – weak, there was very little on the surface for such individuals. An entire world, cities worth of opportunities were present that deep. Not just human only, too.

With all those factors in play, most companies were happy to play merchant, buying the items and cores rather than running their own corporate teams.

Of course, there were exceptions. You always had some genius thinking they could disrupt the economy, but for the most part, these organizations disappeared not too long after, either burning up as they descended too fast or falling as their genius founder died or moved on.

Lots of plusses and minuses, including just going it alone. That was my preference. I had too many secrets, and needed to find others who could keep up, who were willing to go all the way down, to reach the core and deal with ~pain~.

I found myself slumped against the corner of the stairwell I had been climbing, following the directions that Vethan had given me. Once again, I rubbed my head and reminded myself not to think about ~pa—

Just about managed to stop there, and I hissed.

Yeah. One year, and going it alone was my best bet. Though whether I made use of some of these groups to give myself a leg up was another matter. If nothing else, because I was still incredibly poor.

For now, my biggest consideration was whether to wash up first or head for food after dumping my gear. My growling stomach was upset at the lack of food – even with the provisions I had brought, it had no way been enough – while basic hygiene dictated a thorough wash.

It was, in the end, the knowledge that I would need to battle drunken fools for dinner that drove me to the washrooms.

Finding my room on the second floor was not difficult, the simple sigil marked on the front giving it away. Sigil, number, I still struggled with recognition. Learning a new language was already tough, but I was at least grateful that I had known a couple before I was transported here. It made studying their language simpler. 

The room was spartan – a double bed with padded mattress and pillow, a set of blankets laid out beside it along with the bedsheet right underneath. A hamper for old clothing that I expected would see significant use, along with a large desk and book storage right above the desk. A set of shelving ran along the top of the wall on the same side as the table and bed, while on the other side, pegs were embedded in the wall to allow me to hang up additional items like weapons or cloaks. A big storage locker sat at the end of bed, ready for clothing. No armor stand, though well-worn markings on the floor opposite the bed, near the window that sat opposite the doorway, indicated where the previous occupant had placed theirs. 

I surveyed the room, realized that, small and bare as it was, what I had would barely make a dent. Even after I picked up the rest of my belongings from Eamond’s. You would be surprised at how much one took for granted, when you had accumulated goods over the period of a lifetime and had it stripped away.

You really could not take it with you.

At least, not if you were being ferried around by ~pain~.

“Got to stop thinking.” I spat, dryly, and pushed myself off the wall.

Dropping my gear on the hooks, I washed down my gloves one last time, grateful for the self-repairing enchantments on them. I hung the pair up to allow them to dry while I realized one major mistake I’d made. Exhaustion after a day of fighting was definitely pulling my mind into different tracks and even more problems.

Like, not having a set of clothing to change into.

I almost left before checking the storage trunk. To my immense gratitude, I realized that someone had foreseen the need for changes of clothing, and while the clothing itself looked secondhand, the tunic and pants are both well patched, well worn such that the wool-equivalent was smooth-ish and, most importantly, clean.

Whistling to myself, I grabbed the clothing, and the towel that had been left behind as well, and headed for the washroom. 

***

Ten minutes later, after multiple dunkings with a bucket and ladle, I was as close to clean as I could expect to be. If I wanted cleaner, I would have to visit the public baths – or better yet, the private ones. You haven’t seen or experienced body horror till you visited a semi-medieval public bath.

The first few scrub downs had run the water black and red, pieces of monsters and dirt from the dungeon running into the grating all along the floor. After the initial detritus, though, I could take my time to get between the cracks to do a proper clean. 

The grates were a fascinating addition, not meant to catch body hair and the like but dungeon dirt and detritus. They sat above ingenious little wooden contraptions that captured dirt, bone and meat alike and which could be later removed and replaced. 

Whatever collected would be taken to compost piles around the city, mixed with surface dirt and sold to farmers. The higher mana concentration in dungeons and faults gave a small, but noticeable, bonus to growth, such that many night soil collectors branched out of their Earth traditional jobs to include dungeon runoff.

Just another aspect of how the dungeon itself altered the economy of this world.

Clean and refreshed, I headed for my room with the scratchy towel slung over one shoulder. In the hallway, I was startled to see a familiar figure. My luck, of course, didn’t extend to it being a female but instead to Brand, a towel wrapped around his impressively toned, youthful body. 

“Lin.”

“Brand.” I flashed him a smile. “Congratulations on passing.”

“Wasn’t hard.” A slight hesitation, then he added, “Congratulations on your placing. Third is impressive.”

“Thanks. So, lightning, eh?” I mentioned, conversationally. “Pretty nice, to have two skills.”

“Now, why’d you say that?” Brand said, all smiles that failed to reach his eyes.

I pointed at his chest, causing him to look down.

A moment later, he crooked another wry smile. “I guess you figured it out at the draw, eh?”

“Exactly. No one recovers that fast, not without some skill that lets them adapt or recover faster at least.” 

Brand fell silent, and rather than push him for a response, I made my way for my door to hang up my towel and add my clothing to the hamper. I had given that a quick thrashing, just to get rid of the dirt and blood so that I did not have to sleep in the same room as it. It was as I was disappearing inside that Brand spoke.

“I’m like you.”

“What?” I said.

“I’m like you. I only have one skill – it’s just a big one,” Brand said.

“You do?” I blinked, then replayed what I knew of the kid through my mind. I would ask, but I’d pushed the social boundaries around skills far enough. Asking about skills was a faux pass, something that we weren’t meant to do. Only children and the crass asked one another, what with how private skills were.

“I do.” He gave me a cheeky grin before disappearing.

Damn kid was cocky. 

It was only afterwards that I remembered that he owed me a level for our bet.