Chapter 24: Connections

  As long as the previous week had felt, they came up to the rough halfway point of the tournament almost too fast. After the final match for the day, the students parted to refresh themselves and dress in their finest evening wear: it was time for the second, more exclusive tournament celebration.

  With things being as tight as they were, Ambrose prized his last remaining expensive outfits. He had, in fact, been saving this one for a special occasion. While he was mostly confident about the tournament, he could no longer deny there was a good chance that Molly could beat him, even with the recent improvements to his deck. She was just too good at bursts of aggression while remaining well-defended herself.

  This outfit had been meant for his third year advancement or even his full graduation, but with that in question, Ambrose decided to wear it to the meet and greet. It was his usual black and purple, and it looked like a mix of formal evening wear and battle armor, with impractical, spiked shoulders.

  It was sharp, practical, easy to move in, and layered with minor defensive enchantments from the finest spell-tailors. And best of all, it was based on the one his grandfather used to wear to battle and parties alike. Most days, his family felt like a millstone around his neck, and he had no particular affection for them. But every so often, he felt a small tinge of connection, a reminder that for better or worse, he came from a prominent family that had once been great.

  Ambrose checked himself in the mirror one last time, taking a brush to his hair and applying a gel to slick it back and keep it in place. His goatee and mustache were perfectly trimmed, and he had a pocket full of his remaining crowns, just in case. And finally, he brought an empty deck box with him.

  Most people carried their cards inside their spirit, where they belonged. But for those who tended to change their loadout as needed, as Shadow Master Sidney had suggested he do just a week before, they kept them in a specialty box. It was small enough to fit in his hand or pocket, and when opened contained slots for thirty cards. He would need at least that many before the party was over.

  Unlike the Opening Faire, this gathering was much smaller, more intimate, and located in the town proper, in the banquet hall used for hosting important guests. This party was exclusive to third and fourth year students, as well as at least three dozen famous wizards, many of whom were here to find the hottest new talent and scoop them up before anyone else could.

  The education and access to cards were great, but the single most valuable thing Rentan Academy provided were connections. Those who graduated would distinguish themselves above all their peers, and they would get the best offers.

  But even those who made it to the end of third year distinguished themselves. No one wanted to be second-best, but it beat not being ranked at all.

  Ambrose expected the area around the banquet hall to be swarming with people out to crash the party, or catch the attention of the more prominent guests. The entire square was mostly clear, save for the usual light foot-traffic and the few remaining students coming in. The clocktower above Town Hall showed that he was about five minutes late: just enough to be fashionable and interesting.

  Security waved him in, and Ambrose marveled at the banquet hall’s transformation. It was normally a wide, open room with tables and chairs scattered around the center, with a small stage for speakers. Now, the lamps were dimmed, and the main source of light were highlights of the tournament fights, projected on the walls. He stopped in the doorway at the sight of him riding on [Reggie]’s back at the end of his and Raeleq’s duel.

  Seeing himself drop ten feet and then pop back up to pump his fists was surreal, and a bit funny. He chuckled and continued on, looking around. Despite his mouth, Ambrose liked to think he could keep his composure fairly well. Seeing the faces of wizards he knew of and even admired nearly reduced him to a gawking child.

  Chadley Higgens stood there with his wild blond hair, looking every bit the Primal Master of Storms, chatting with Molly with clear delight in his eyes. Well, at least someone enjoyed speaking with her.

  Sitting at a table with a bottle of wine was the sharp-faced Pamela Haugen, a Wild Wizard even Ambrose respected. She was known for her work with altering plants, and tinkering with the cycle of death, decay, and rebirth. A fourth year named Hilda gushed loudly over her, while she drank wine with a polite smile.

  Professor Vanderborn was engaged in a group conversation with Baron Reed, a fellow artificer, and Gia Dona, a necromancer that Ambrose swore he would have to talk to before the night’s end. Leo the fourth year with a love of living nightmares tried to get their attention, but was waved off for the moment, despite his stellar tournament performances. Vanderborn in particular looked displeased, and not in the mood to be bothered.

  “Overwhelming, isn’t it?” A familiar voice shook him from his reverie.

  Ambrose turned to find Sidney Cross there, a pleasant smile on his unassuming face. “Sometimes, I think it’s easy to forget how long it’s been for some of us, and what it’s like to try to impress the biggest names around. It was stressful, and exhilarating.”

  “Master Sidney,” Ambrose said, inclining his head. The man’s gentle manners and kind tone still struck him as odd for a Shadow Wizard, but he could see the benefit. “Enjoying my performance in the tournament?”

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  “I am,” he said, lifting a glass of wine in a playful toast. “Even that first match. You can imagine my surprise and dismay when that copied spell took you out in a blink. For a second, I wondered if Vanderborn had gone mad when recommending you.”

  His face flushed with shame all over again, but he forced a smile. “Just a bit of showmanship. I had to give everyone else a solid chance, right? Besides, I like to think I’ve made up for it in every match since.”

  The corners of Sidney’s lips twitched. “Since then, you’ve only had one challenge that I saw. The two girls were barely fights, and that tall, gangly light Wizard -- “

  “David,” Ambrose supplied.

  “Right. You looked mentally checked out until the end. The fight with the other Ransa was the only exciting one…But it was exciting. Care to talk about it?”

  “I would,” said Ambrose with a growing smile of his own. “The thing to understand is that I was a victim of bad draws the entire fight. At one point I genuinely thought I might lose, just to luck of the draw. I knew his main strategy is to flank with his Signature Creature, so I went into it with the goal of turning his creature on him.”

  “An excellent strategy in general. Light and Wild wizards especially hate it, though if the Ransa boy had been smarter, he could’ve countered it by destroying the enchantment.”

  Ambrose shrugged, feeling saucy. “I’d say I’m lucky he’s not smarter, but I knew and planned around it.” Off in the distance, he saw Raeleq and Luthor standing together, taking a pair of cards from two people he didn’t recognize immediately. The conversation must’ve gone well, because the younger Ransa had a stupid grin on his face. “The benefit of these three years is knowing my opponents well, and learning how to better understand my foes in the future.”

  “Mmm. Continue to perform, prove yourself right, and I will happily admit you were right. And since it’s the point of the entire party, I must ask: what do you see yourself doing after school? Would you be interested in an apprenticeship upon graduation?” Sidney’s smirk undermined the performance.

  He stroked his chin while he pretended to think about it. “Anti-wizard specialist. Assassin. Professional duelist, perhaps. I’m open to apprenticing under any advanced Shadow wizard, so long as they pay well and respect me. But you might have competition from Vanderborn.”

  “So you don’t want my card?” Sidney teased.

  “I suppose I could start a collection,” said Ambrose. “If nothing else, the other students will pay out the ass for these.”

  The Shadow Master laughed and clasped his shoulder. “Whoever you choose, you have a future ahead of you. My greatest advice, from one Shadow wizard to another, is to remember the following. Be ruthless, not cruel. Be deliberate, not indulgent. There is a purity in Shadow magic’s self-centered nature, but if you aren’t careful, it can consume you. Whoever you choose to work for, don’t give yourself away. Above all else, master yourself.”

  Ambrose found himself without words. It was so odd, hearing a master of the darkest magics advocate temperance and restraint. It made sense, though. His own grandfather had died to an assassin due to his own greed, and the long list of enemies he’d made in the process of building the family fortune. Alastair Adams was a great man, and had been much better at charming people and making friends than his grandson. Filling those shoes felt impossible most days, but…

  “Thank you, I will,” he said, no sass in his voice at all. “I’m going to win this tournament, and a number of side wagers. And if Vanderborn ends up not working out, you’re my first choice.”

  Sidney chuckled, and fished a card from his back pocket. “I suppose taking second place next to the world’s best is nothing to be ashamed of. Take this, and remember our deal. One free contract, recorded for your education.” With a respectful bow, he handed over the card and wandered over to where Leo had finally given up trying to talk to the headmaster and company.

  Ambrose looked down at the non-combat, vanity card.

  [Sidney Cross: Level 10 Shadow Wizard].

  Like all vanity cards, it showed a portrait of the wizard in question, and it could be used to project a life-sized image of them onto the nearest flat surface, where they would cycle through a few poses and idle movements for a couple of minutes.

  They were ultimately useless, but the younger students went nuts for them, and would fight over getting their favorites. Personally, he thought they were gaudy and tacky, but he couldn’t deny that earning the reputation needed for a vanity card was appealing in its own way. Ambrose produced his deck box and slipped it inside.

  It wasn’t long before others approached him, eager to meet and get a gauge of the year’s only Shadow Wizard. Notable Shadow/Mind wizard Marilyn Chancy talked his ear off for ten minutes, mostly reminiscing about her own tournament wins, and how his discard strategy reminded her of herself at that age. Dipping into a Mind affinity wouldn’t be the worst idea.

  Then came the others, mostly others with the same affinity, but others who were curious about him and his family, for one reason or another. A few with axes to grind stopped by just to taunt him over the impending fall of his house. Ambrose took their cards anyway, with the full intention of paying them back, someday. An hour later, he had over half the guests’ cards, and the need to take a break.

  Ambrose went over to the table on the far end, where bottles of high end alcohol lined up next to glasses. The bartender grunted amiably at him, and he returned it before ordering two whiskeys for himself. He sipped at one, looking around the room for his classmates.

  Combat wizards were always in demand, at least in part due to how many of them died in battle. But there were plenty of other roles, and as he saw Kim talk to Pamela Haugen, he found himself, oddly enough, wishing her well. She was a garbage combat wizard, but the power, experience, and cards she gained from this program would get her a job anyway. One better suited to her gentle nature. David would do better as professional security, meant to not fight but prevent a fight from the first place. Girard was…a blowhard who would probably try to do what Ambrose did and fail.

  Those three were probably not going to come back next year, but there was an odd, unfamiliar relief at the idea that they would be okay too. Most of them knew who they were, and what they wanted. Years later, maybe they’d even meet up and laugh about their school days.

  Ambrose looked around, and saw his classmates mingling in twos and threes, excitedly swapping cards and stories. Everyone but him. Some days, it felt like fate, and the solitude suited him.

  Some nights, the weight got to him.