Domarin was a pleasant enough village to wait in for the Adventure Society’s caravan of aspirants to come rolling by. It was about ten kilometres south-east of Oullins. I was studying The Perpetual Currents, Volume I by Henrietta de Lavigne to fill time. It was a very repetitive treatise on sources of background magic and reading it would’ve been a dreary experience if not for the fact that I could look up at the view of a cute, country church and a snow-decked cobblestone street. It was nice here.

  Hugh was with me studying his own book. He’d actually picked up a copy of Dimensional Magic: Bridges Across Reality by Sorin Zephyros in order to better understand his own new abilities. It was ironic, really. We worried so much about, and put so much effort into, getting cleanly away from the tournament with all our prize money and then, under his goddess’s direction, we did the awakening ritual with three of the awakening stones that betting on Johan had won us. He absorbed the first one, an awakening stone of dimension, and what do you know, he got Teleport Ally. So, that solved everything. Now he was just researching this new ability of his, comparing Zephyros’s observations with what I could see when he used the ability.

  Sam was flying around on the Second Wind. Of all of us, Sam was loving flying the most. You could often see her on the bowsprit, sometimes leaning on the rails or just climbing to a spot in the rigging and gazing at the landscape flowing by below. Even the captain could be spotted smiling at her from time to time.

  Johan was using his enormous strength and friendliness to help someone or other. The clergy from the church that I was sitting in front of had directed him to some old widow who needed furniture moved but that was an hour ago. Johan could move furniture with one hand so he’d no doubt got to chatting with the old dear and, through her, found someone else who needed the help of a strapping young man who could casually lift a cart.

  Avril still hadn’t told me that she’d run away from her family but that was for the best. The more I had plausible deniability, the less trouble I’d be in when her father found out where she was. At the group’s urging she’d cut her hair short and let me cast an illusion over her face to avoid recognition. Then we’d sent her off to browse the markets and just watch people. She was trying to travel with us incognito so I’d convinced her to just go watch how non-nobility acted. The way they stood, spoke and walked. The idea was that ‘Avril Garnier’, the name we’d all introduced her to the crew as, wouldn’t be recognised by anybody who’d just happened to have been in Reyer manor at some point and seen one of her portraits. She seemed to be enjoying herself the last few days so I mostly didn’t worry about her.

  But, it’d been a few days aloft and, wanting a few hours out of the wind, me and the whole team except Sam had opted to be dropped off in Doramin early. Ironically, the caravan we were waiting for was late.

  “The Lady says that there was a wheel thrown,” said Hugh suddenly.

  “I admit, I was expecting it to be a noble tantrum,” I said.

  “She says of them there were several but they didn’t slow anything down,” said Hugh.

  “My thanks to the Lady,” I said.

  Another half-hour later, Captain Dimont sailed the Second Wind in low over the church and Sam jumped out, activating her slow fall belt as she went. Hugh and I pocketed our things and went to meet her.

  “Captain says they are twenty minutes,” smiled Sam as she landed gently in the middle of the street.

  Johan arrived ten minutes later having extracted himself from stacking wood closer to a large family’s door.

  “Good day, my friends!” called Johan as he came close. “Avril told me Captain Dimont made the flyover. The caravan is close?”

  “Ten minutes,” said Hugh.

  Three heidelless carts were winding along the road. A single adult rode in the lead cart next to a long pole with a lantern on the end which they moved like it was guiding the way. I reckoned the lead cart was enchanted to follow the lantern and there were similar lanterns on the backs of the first two carts. Two other adult figures accompanied the carts. One rode atop a heidel beside the caravan which I could even see at this distance was a summoned beast and another ran easily alongside.

  The trays of each cart were suspended on springs providing some relief for the boisterous teens who were packed in the trays. Except, I noticed, no boisterous play in the cart at the rear. And, It was only half full. It took a moment for me to see that the people in the rear cart were dressed in more earthy tones with only a stripe of yellow from a kerchief or a red hat splashed in to provide colour whereas the front two carts were resplendent in colours. A difference that spoke of commoners and nobles. It seemed that the nobles would rather cram together than even sit in the same cart as the peasants. Pricks.

  As the carts drew closer and closer it was also clear that the difference was more than a reserved deference to the nobles. The first two carts seemed in good spirits, singing and displaying energetic body language but the commoner’s cart was subdued and the people therein tried not to look around. Not good.

  The team watched as the caravan rolled up to us. A wizened, grey-haired, at least silver-ranked woman was controlling the direction-lantern. Despite the anti-aging effects of magic rank smoothing her skin, the woman managed a wizened look. It was something about the quality in the eyes and her presence. She was old. Old in a way that I couldn’t understand but her presence wasn’t unpleasant. Like a martonly, old aunt who could give sage advice to her family, smiling down from on high. She wore simple, priestly garb that bore the symbol of Knowledge but the simple raiment, if anything, enhanced her presence. Without words it said ‘I don’t need anymore’ and put her beyond any thoughts of fashion.

  “Her enlightenments upon you,” said the matronly woman to Hugh, bowing her head when they came within talking distance.

  “Her enlightenments be shared,” replied Hugh, also bowing his head.

  “You must be Friar Hugh Abberton,” said the clergywoman with a gentle smile.

  “Indeed, Mother.”

  “I am Mother Superior Eleni Dukas. May I presume your companions are Dave Booker, Samorn Khantong and Johan Schmidt?” asked Mother Dukas, looking at each in turn.

  “Just so, Mother,” said Johan, giving his smile. He was wearing his templar armour and looked very fetching standing there in its mirror finish. His perfect smile and a slight breeze making his blond hair sway subtly in the wind.

  I merely nodded along in Johan’s wake. As Sam smiled nervously in mine however, it seemed like her desire to shrink into the background drew Mother Dukas’s warm smile to Sam.

  “Sawadee ka,” said Mother Dukas, giving Sam a wei.

  “Waaa! Sawadee ka!” greeted Sam in return, her smile becoming incandescent with happiness upon finding someone who could speak her native tongue.

  Dukas and Sam had a quick conversation in Siamese while the rest of the caravan reined in, which left Sam squirming in happiness and grasping her hands in front of her body while Dukas bathed Sam in a motherly smile.

  “Wonderful,” said Dukas, turning her attention back to the whole party. “May I present instructor Elira Konstantinos and instructor Basilios Drakos.” She gestured to the heidel riding adult and the running one respectively. Konstantinos smiled and nodded at us but Drakos didn’t deign to notice. Dead give away which one was raised by sane people.

  “Just get in the cart,” said Konstantinos. “Pleasantries will have to wait, we’re running late. The other aspirants can fill you in on what’s happening.”

  “I have my own mount?” I asked, already walking to the last cart.

  “There’s enough inequality already in this test where every aspirant’s supposed to be equal,” remarked Kanstantinos with a smirk, jerking her head at the carts.

  Drakos scoffed at the horizon.

  “Indeed, lucky us. We’ll have to make nice, then?” said Hugh pleasantly, giving his whiskery smile to the people in the cart as he climbed in.

  The instructors returned to their places in the caravan; one each side, between the two carts. The aristo kiddos jeered at Executive Services as we walked to the last cart.

  “Get in ya cart!”

  “Scum suckerrrrrrrs!”

  “Good day, fellows!” said Johan to the last cart, bubbling with excitement.

  Not even the inhibited replies of his fellow commoner aspirants took an iota of Johan’s enthusiasm away from him. I didn’t think anything could. After all, today was another childhood dream of his coming true.

  “What’s with the long faces, folks?” I asked, kick starting the conversation I knew Hugh and Johan would finish.

  The caravan started rolling and under the influence of Johan’s inspiring presence and Hugh’s friendly beard, over the next minute it came out that the nobs were throwing stuff at the commoners and just generally bullying them. Johan was still in denial about the ‘noble blood’ doing such a thing when an egg smashed across his pauldron, splashing his face and spraying the people around him with yolk and white.

  “How - dastardly conduct!” sputtered Johan.

  The kids in the next cart were crowing with vindictive laughter. I waved my hand at Johan, starting Grand Mage’s Gravitas, much to the interest of my follow commoner-cart folk. Sam was curled up with her knees to get chest, trying to shrink away from being noticed by the children of nobles.

  “What’s that you’re doing?” asked an elf who’d introduced herself as Valleron.

  “Cleaning spell,” I said and looked around at the others in the cart. “I’ll clean everyone who wants it.”

  Johan was still in disbelief and looking to instructor Drakos for support but Drakos, running between the second and third carts, didn’t care to notice. I saw that Konstantinos, still riding between carts first and second, had shot a reproachful look backwards and outright stared down those in the first cart who did more than snicker but no help came.

  “Indeed, this is the cruelty of unfettered youth,” remarked Hugh, raising sticky hands to me.

  “We’re on our own, Johan,” I said and manifested Tzu. “Look, it’s me and you at this end of the cart. Just summon your shield,” I twirled my hand, creating a block of cardboard that unfolded into a large square with holes at the corners, “I’ll cover his side of the cart and you cover yours. Tzu, buddy? Intercept anything they throw, will you?”

  =Prepare to sally forth, Dave!= buzzed Tzu. =The overconfident enemy will not expect your attack.=

  “Hey! A talking lantern, you carry that?” asked a woman called Fournier who’d recently been smiling at Johan and touching her hair.

  “I carry that,” I said awkwardly, not understanding the local teenage lingo but braving those waters in the way of lost adults everywhere.

  There were a few more half-hearted attempts to throw food but it either impacted off of the shields or grazed off of our backs, which were easily cleaned. With the threat of immediate humiliation gone and my prestidigitation having cleaned everyone - first those who copped the egg and then everyone else in general because Valleron described the sensation as strangely pleasant - the mood in the cart became more relaxed. Valleron, Fournier, Lefevre, Payne and Blackwood were the names of my fellow non-aristocrats testing for Adventure Society membership. Sam and I sat quietly, alternately following the conversation or reading from a news sheet on Tome.

  Hugh and Johan were a tag-team of bearded wisdom and charming knight to the others, only interrupted by the occasional thwap of something against our shields or that Tzu shot out of the air. I’d almost forgotten how much of a pest the cart in front was trying to be until Tzu blared a warning.

  =Warning!=

  My head snapped up to see a bottle, trailing milk in flight but already too close for me to react but I hadn’t counted on Johan using Slow Motion Scene to deftly catch it by the neck and return the item. Neither had they. A bolt of disruptive force, intended to hit the milk bottle mid-flight, smacked into Johan’s breastplate.

  “Excuse me? Instructor Drakos?” I called, waving. “They’ve gone too far.”

  Drakos swept his eyes across the scene disdainfully.

  “Are any of you going to do something about that milk?” he said with a meaningful look at our cart which communicated that he expected them to make us pay.

  “Really?” I said at Drakos. “They shoot actual dangerous bolts at us and you… Oh, fuck it.” I turned back to the rest of the people in my cart. “That fucking does it,” I said, and waved my hand at the ground and using Pauper’s Paper Production to make a paper towel and again to make a pile of cardboard straws. “We’re fighting back.”

  A minute later, there were shouts of alarm from cart two as Tzu buzzed a signal, Johan and I lowered our shields and all nine occupants of cart three shot balls of chewed paper through the wide straws at their tormentors. Johan and I quickly lifted the shields again.

  “Instructor! Instructor!” whined one of the nobles to Drakos. “The peasants are spitting on us! It’s disgusting!”

  I quickly scribbled a note on a piece of paper in my pocket as Drakos rounded on the cart pressing his will down upon each of us in turn.

  “What do any of you think you are doing?” said Drakos haughtily, looking down on us like a hawk. “I will make sure this is reflected in your results.”

  “They literally shot one of us, instructor Drakos,” I said calmly. “When that didn’t phase you, I figured -”

  I put the note in front of Hugh’s face.

  “Your sour stories will also be reflected -”

  “It’s true, my good sir. Indeed, Instructor Drakos,” waffled Hugh as confidently as he could.

  “I don’t care for your lies, commoner” seethed Drakos. “Well, birds of a feather shall flock together. I’ve a mind to fail you all…”

  The caravan suddenly slowed, causing Drakos to look to the front but he cringed as the will of Mother Dukas loomed and clamped down on the entire caravan, halting all speech as would the arrival of a strict school principal. Everyone fidgeted awkwardly under the pressure as Dukas, in full Mother Superior mode, carefully dismounted the lead cart and walked straight over to Drakos who was pretending as hard as he could that he was choosing to stare at the ground.

  “Drakos, instructor though you may be, I will not be tolerating blasphemy,” said Mother Dukas.

  “I don’t understand,” said Drakos, confused.

  “I don’t understand, Mother,” corrected Mother Dukas.

  Dukas clenched his jaw twice before correcting himself.

  “I don’t understand, Mother,” said Drakos, some haughtiness returning to him. “These peasant children are spitting on their betters. It’s unconscionable! Mother.”

  “And why are they spitting on their betters?” asked Mother Dukas.

  “I cannot pretend to know the mind of such people, Mother” said Drakos airily.

  “Why don’t you ask?” said the Mother Superior crossly. “You’ll get a truthful answer. Or, did you somehow miss the mark of holy orders right in front of you?” Her eyes flicked to Hugh. Drakos also turned to look and he went pale, immediately realising he’d just accused Hugh of lying. A terrible insult to Knowledge clergy. Dukas continued. “Think carefully about how much that star on your badge is worth, young man!”

  Drakos glowered at the occupants of cart two and cart three in outrage of the position he clearly felt we’d put him in.

  “Don’t look at them, look at me, Drakos,” snapped Mother Dukas.

  “I think that I allowed some competitive horseplay between the two carts and some aspirants went too far on both sides,” said Drakos.

  “What’s the punishment for attacking another aspirant with abilities?” I interjected.

  Mother Dukas raised an eyebrow at Drakos in a clear indication that she expected an answer.

  “Immediate failure and ejection from the test for a year,” said Drakos, staring at the frosty treeline.

  “It was an accident, he moved!” burst out the one who’d shot before Drakos glared him down.

  “Okay, what’s the punishment for stupid pranks that get people shot?” I retorted.

  “That’s enough, Mister Booker,” ordered Mother Dukas sharply, her presence pressing down on me. “Your point is taken.”

  I bowed slightly in her direction.

  “Instructor Konstantinos and Instructor Drakos,” said Mother Dukas. “Come and speak with me away from these little ears.”

  The three walked a short way to be out into the mushy field beside the road, out of earshot and began a discussion but the discussion was coloured by the stormcloud presence of the cross Mother Superior Dukas which blanketed the entire area.

  “You idiot, foreigner,” hissed Valleron. “They’re going to wring our families.”

  I thought about that for a second.

  “You mean the nobles would probably remember the names of those who’ve wronged them and tell those people’s liege lords?”

  “Yes, you clod,” said Valleron with exasperation. “Please don’t try to be one of those unsoverigned crazy types trying to save us all.” I quickly used Stop And Think to look up that unsoverigned was a social movement that didn’t believe in leaders. They lived in the wilds to escape the ‘sin of city life’. “You’re only making life worse for us all before you die in the monster surge.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  I considered this for a moment.

  “No, I’m not stopping,” I said, “Do you need help relocating your family?”

  Valleron’s mouth opened and she made sounds but no words. I just waited silently.

  “Dave, leave her alone,” said Hugh under his breath.

  “No, Hugh,” I said seriously for once. “This is important. I’m not tolerating that.”

  I gestured at the nobles who were eyeing us impetuously.

  “I’ve paid taxes for too many years to tolerate that behaviour in public. Not the entitlement, not the self centred attitude and definitely none of the abuse,” I continued in a quiet voice.

  “You’re crazy,” said Valleron, leaning away from me.

  “And you’re a bootlicker,” I hissed more savagely than I felt. “You’re just trying to climb high enough that the nobles piss on on everyone else instead of you. Such fucking courage.”

  A heavy hand gently placed itself on my shoulder and I felt a surge of friendly warmth run through me. Like stepping from shadow into sunlight.

  “That’s enough, Dave,” said Johan.

  I deflated.

  “You don’t get it either,” I said, staring up at the blonde giant, shaking my head in disbelief as I stared into his baby-blue eyes. “You’re part of the problem, mate. You think nobles have some inherent goodness inside but look at them! They’re right there with their petty cruelty. They’re just mean, violent people whose ancestors killed their way to the top. How do you not see it?”

  “I see it,” said Johan, hair blowing in the wind as I looked up at him. “I just choose to believe in good.”

  “You fucking idiot.”

  He actually fucking smiled at me.

  “Take a break, Dave,” said Johan. “Sam, Hugh? See to Dave. I need to smooth things over with the others.”

  And with that, he actually just walked over to the noble kids, bowed and started talking to them. I didn’t hear what he said, but it must have been good because they actually pretended to listen.

  “Dave,” said Sam quietly. She was wearing her most gentle smile. “Please be happy.”

  “This fucked up world conspires against me but I’ll try,” I promised Sam. “But, I’m probably going to end up killing half of those little shits.”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t say outrageous things like that,” said Hugh into his beard.

  “No, I’ve already got a start,” I said. “I killed four nobles with a cargo net under the arena before we left. I’ve been meaning to tell you both but it’s hard to bring up in conversation.”

  They both looked at me with open mouths.

  “Oh, would you look at that?” I said pointing over their shoulders. “The adults have consensus.”

  Drakos was leading the walk back to the carts. The cloud that was Mother Dukas was no longer storming, but still present and stern.

  “Squire Wells, after consulting with my colleague Instructor Konstantinos and the chaperone Mother Superior Dukas, I’ve decided that your behaviour was merely reckless, not intentional and so, does not warrant immediate failure and ejection from the test however,” he glared at Wells with a terrible venom, “your chances of passing make me strongly suggest you stop at the next town and send a message to your family.”

  Wells, the shooter, hung his head. From what I understood, this meant that he would be recorded as merely not passing the test. Being ejected from the test usually came with a length of time before you could apply again and sometimes even a ban.

  “Mister Booker,” said Drakos, turning his envenomed glare on me. “For your lip, you’ll be cleaning everyone’s gear at the end of each day.”

  He tried to bear down on me but I just stared blankly back and gave a half-shrug.

  “Alright,” said Konstantinos with an awkward amount of false happiness. “With that unpleasantness out of the way. I think that perhaps everyone’s emotions are a bit high because we’re been so cramped,” she forced a smile at everyone. “So, I’m going to extend the caravan and those of you with mounts may ride between the carts, how about that?”

  There was a general murmur of relief. A few of the nobles perked up and Sam also looked up hopefully.

  “Alright then!” continued Konstantinos as though she’d received an enthusiastic cry. “We’ll space the carts out and you can stay between them or within an arm's length of the side but any more and we’re tossing you back into the cart.”

  Konstantinos and Drakos both immediately made for the guide lanterns and attached them to the rudders which were taken from their storage behind the rider’s seat. I took Sam by the hand and subtly walked up to Konstantinos during the commotion of taking mounts from packs and summoning them. On Sam’s behalf with her pleading eyes backing me up, I got Konstantinos’s attention. She turned her eyes on me and I pointed skyward.

  “Can we go a bit further away if we have a flying transport?”

  “That’s… unusual,” answered Konstantinos, turning her eyes on Mother Dukas who was close by. “And would be up to our silver chaperone.”

  Sam had clasped her hands under her chin beneath a beaming smile with puppy-dog eyes, all directed straight at Mother Dukas.

  “I’d like to see any iron rank flying transport that you think you have about your person, Mister Booker,” said Mother Dukas. “Does it have anything to do with that airship I saw Miss Khantong exit over Domarin?

  “Mother,” I said, savouring the moment. “It is the airship that was over Domarin. I can signal it, with your permission? Thank you. Hugh! Signal the Second Wind!”

  “Indeed, just a second,” said Hugh, getting some copper-based dust he’d purchased from a specific alchemist just for this situation out of his cupboard-like inventory. “Ah, here we go.”

  Raising dust-filled hands into the air, Hugh used Project Elements and shot a pillar of green fire metres into the air that left a green smoke drifting upwards. He did this at regular intervals for the next minute until a flashing signal light could be seen from the silhouette of the airship from the north east.

  “Well, there she is, Mother,” said Hugh. “What do you think?”

  The Second Wind, which had been trailing the caravan from the horizon, was now tacking towards them.

  “I don’t recognise the model at all,” said Mother Dukas simply. “No magic emission, wind powered. May I ask for what reason you purchased a stealth model at iron rank?”

  “Oh, that’s not how it is at all, Mother. Of course, I must say, I understand why you’d think that, Mother. You see, that the ship is no airyard stealth model but a pioneering test of null-magic flight,” said Hugh proudly.

  “It’s more a budget model than anything else, I’d say,” I confessed to the impressed clergywoman. “Most expensive thing on it is… well, I probably shouldn’t say. It’s a joint venture with someone Remore family associated.

  “Gracious Goddess and me,” said Mother Dukas, watching the ship as it sailed in, tacking left and right against the wind as it came.

  “It’s really fun!” Sam piped up from Dukas’s elbow.

  Dukas immediately smiled down at Sam.

  “It might be dangerous dear,” mothered Dukas.

  “Is fine!” beamed Sam. “Dave makes everyone have safety items! He even has spare to provide during flight. Dave loves safety! But, Captain hates it.” Sam covered her mouth and giggled. “But he does what Dave says anyway because crew does what Dave says.”

  “Hierarchy of hazard controls,” I murmured distractedly. “Always.”

  Several of the nobles had already de-carted and gotten their mounts out. A couple were paper squares that kept miraculously folding out until a full heidel was revealed, one summoned a giant canine and quickly threw a saddle blanket, saddle and then fitted a bridle and reins. Three more had just taken out carved, wooden figurines that took a heavy toll in mana before the user tossed the figurine and it grew into a real sized animal. Even one of the commoners had summoned a giant wheel to which they attached a harness inside to ride.

  I figured I might be needed on the Second Wind so I kept my own mount item stowed away. Besides, if I summoned it, it’d creep everyone out. The caravan was rearranged with space between the carts for riders and there was a notable release of tension as the commoner’s cart was removed from projectile range which, I think, was the intention of the change from the start. Especially since when one of the aristocrat children idled back towards the commoner’s cart and reached causally into his pocket, Drakos outright slapped the young lord with his aura. Clearly, Drakos believed that the noble right to haze commoners stopped where the aristo-brats couldn’t endanger his job.

  The Second Wind sailed in soon after slowing to match our speed and dropped a weighted rope ladder from one of the booms. It was a difficult manoeuvre to get right but Dimont and the crew had practised this all week. Mother Dukas had decided that she would decide if the airship was suitable for the trials after she had inspected the craft for safety, which Sam was enthusiastic about. As the rope slowed next to the cart, Sam jumped onto it and started climbing up with a big smile on her face. However, Mother Dukas took a large, red-velvet armchair with a honey-coloured wood frame out of her inventory and put it in the air beside the cart then, handing over her steering duties to a volunteered aspirant, she seated herself gracefully in the chair and flew it up to the Second Wind.

  The caravan continued rolling along for about half an hour before Dukas was seen again.

  “This is quite the flying machine you’ve come up with, Booker,” said Mother Dukas by way of greetings, flying straight-backed in her armchair. I noticed her clothes and hair were completely free of any wind.

  “So, you consider it safe enough?” I asked.

  She eyed me sternly from her chair.

  “I have my doubts, Booker. But, the extensive safety procedures the mate explained in exhaustive detail made me pleased enough that when it eventually falls from the sky, everyone will make it to the ground under the power of magic like the gods intended.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” I said gratefully. It was practically an endorsement.

  Mother Dukas returned to her place driving the front cart. Johan had rejoined us while the carts were being reorganised and with a simple ‘Come, my friends’, and the mere existence of his neighbourly aura, he led all the remaining commoners up to the Second Wind. Only Hugh and I remained in the cart preferring less wind and a floor that didn't randomly float.

  A few hours of travel later, in which both Hugh and I studied, the caravan halted and we were guided off road at a run by the instructors. We stopped several kilometres later and all of the other commoners not from Executive Services, were panting, clutching at their knees by the time we stopped running. It was like they hadn’t trained. Too busy earning a living to train? Maybe. I’d have to ask.

  “Hey, you need a hand?” I asked one of them quietly, who glared up at me between breaths. He’d obviously taken it in a way I hadn’t intended. Fuck but I was bad with people.

  “Can anyone guess why we’ve stopped here?” said Drakos in a loud voice.

  I managed to clamp my own mouth shut before saying that it was because this was where he’d chosen to stop.

  “We have stopped here because there’s a large group of pixelax nearby,” continued the instructor.

  I rolled my eyes and tuned out the self-important weed’s speech. I passed the time reorganising my inventory until I heard Johan’s voice.

  “Cor, but I think I could do just that, Instructor!” he said.

  I quickly used Stop And Think and scrolled back through the chat log. Blah, blah, blah, pixelax, big group, blah, blah, over the next hill, blah, blah, blah, pixelax strategies, blah, who thinks they can fight them. With context, it was clear that Drakos was setting up a rhetorical question and we were supposed to answer that a contract like this was supposed to be done with a team.

  Johan didn’t get that hint. It was pretty clear that he thought Drakos was asking about bravery and who had enough to try and take them all down.

  “Oh really, Schmidt?” said Drakos, sauntering up to Johan with his hands on his hips. “You think you can do it?”

  Oh fuck.

  “The way you say it, Instructor Drakos, it sounds like they have to go,” said Johan, all heart. “And if, like you say, I’m the only one on the contract then I’m the one to do it!”

  Drakos’s face darkened and then brightened with a smile of ill intent.

  “Then do so, Mister Schmidt. With my blessing.”

  Well. Johan had fallen into that trap. The only solace I could find in the situation was that the instructors weren’t allowed to let him die.

  I followed Johan at a distance with the rest of the aspirants. He made no attempt at stealth or tracking. He just plonked his helm on his head, summoned sword and board to his hands and strode determinedly at the monsters until he was amongst them.

  “Great gods,” cursed Drakos, flicking his hand against Konstantinos in a ‘come on’ gesture and they both started running at the distant Johan.

  I was nervous for Johan until I clicked on one of the pixelax. They had very few hitpoints and Johan could hit really hard. I got my first real look as a pixelax and five of its fellows opened the ambush. They had long, thin limbs of wood that looked like it was all thorns and splinters but they were only a metre high.

  “Let him try,” I said, sending the words with a gesture to Konstantinos with Swift Message Of The Mind.

  Konstantinos put a restraining touch to Drakos’s arm and they paused, watching Johan who was already reacting to the ambush he’d walked into. The first five were but a quarter of the entire number and with their speed, I could see why so many pixelax would be considered dangerous without a group; Their tree-like appearance gave them good camouflage and their speed allowed them to overwhelm with numbers and anybody without movement abilities probably wouldn’t escape them.

  Johan needed no such escape opportunity. He crashed into the pixelax like an avalanche. His Ram’s Charge smashed the first one in front of him to the ground and then he jumped on it to kill it. He pivoted, grinding the snow beneath his feet, graceful as a dancer and hacked through pixelax he’d just passed on his left. Farmer Reaps The Field sent a series of weaker strikes propagating through the pixelaxes adjacent to the one he’d just hit but, even half of one of Johan’s mighty blows was enough to deal mortal cuts to two pixelax and stagger another three.

  The whole swarm was descending upon Johan in a moment but in response he merely backed up a single step only to aim more carefully at the centre of the swarm with his devastating strikes. His defence was his offence. Johan’s sweeping strikes cleared a zone in front of him into which he’d step and pivot to the next threat and repeat the same move. Twice the pixelax bunched up enough that he doubled up on area of effect damage, being physically strong enough to cut through multiple enemies in a single blow while Farmer Reaps The Field propagated echoes of those unstoppable strikes to the entire mob.

  He took damage, a sharp hand slipping under a vambrace, splinter-teeth at the back of his knee, and bludgeoning from the monsters hurling their limbs against him but Johan was merely bloodied as the last monster fell to one of his signature, perfect thrusts.

  He saluted the instructors with his sword and began talking with them. They were far too far away for us to hear but my peers had enough words of their own.

  “Sweet gods, Favreau. You’re going to fight him?” said one labelled Joelle Lachapelle.

  “Yes!” said Favreau with obvious bluster.

  I mentally tuned out their noise but made my chatbox larger and periodically kept up with what they were saying. The nobles had clearly made some kind of future plan with Johan earlier that involved Favreau fighting Johan, probably a duel, and they were now questioning the wisdom of that plan. The commoners were just making awestruck noises and asking Hugh where Johan was from and such. The trio walking towards us eventually returned, having finished their conversation.

  “Now that Mister Schmidt has finished showing off,” said Drakos, throwing a dirty look at Johan as though he’d done the opposite of exceed expectations. “We’re going to be splitting you all up from your friends and fighting as teams for the next few days. Now, we’re going to run to the next contract and then back to the carts before sundown comes. Follow me!”

  The commoners who’d looked tired on the run here slumped with despair but straightened their backs when Johan beamed at them and patted their shoulders.

  “Johan, we can sneak them stamina potions if they need it,” I muttered to him. “Also, you fucked up the instructors’ lesson. They were trying to show the importance of having a team for safety reasons but your mob clearing power ruined it. Go and apologise to them both.

  I watched Johan in glances as I ran. His face slowly went through confused to shocked and then to mortified. He started striding ahead to catch up to the instructors. I send a Swift Message Of The Mind to Konstantinos to forewarn her of the overwhelming humbleness heading her way.

  The day dragged in a haze of running, instructor-assigned teams, and aristocrats patting themselves on the back for getting carried. It was pretty obvious to me that the instructors were picking teams with a clear skills gap that was supposed to be overcome. The instructors knew what they were doing. They were showing the nobles that they needed to use the commoners properly. Just using blood and failure as teaching points. I figured they wouldn’t be grateful if I spoiled the game so, I only told my team.

  For my group, I’d been saddled with three nobles. Young, fast and eager to prove themselves. Not a tank, not a healer among them. Not that they seemed to notice. I could see it in their eyes when they glanced at me, the same old disdain. ‘Booker’ they spat, like it was a slur and rolled their eyes. So, naturally, they rushed into the goblin next we’d been assigned without a plan.

  All three of them had movement or charge abilities and all three of them became victims of goblin traps while I was still jogging to catch up. By the time I arrived at the battle at my own pace, they’d broken free of the traps and defeated the goblins but they’d lost a lot of hit points. Drakos, our ever-icy instructor, asked why I hadn’t run faster to help. I told him the truth. No sense rushing into the same trap as them. He made a remark about foresight, loud enough for them to hear. Maybe one of them even got the point. Maybe not.

  Johan, Sam, and Hugh fared better. The nobles in their groups were the same; big on ego, small on tactics, but at least they knew how to lean on ‘the help’. Johan became a walking shield, and the other two kept everyone in their respective groups alive with healing spells. The nobles would charge, the commoners would serve, and that’s the way the world was supposed to be.

  When the sun completed its slow retreat into the west, we’d made it back to the caravan and we were told to make camp. The wind had a sharp bite to it that enchanted clothing could take the edge off but couldn't ignore, and the nobles wasted no time in demanding shelter. That’s when I cast Comfortable Country Cabin, which I’d prepared in the morning for just this moment. The cabin wasn’t much, just something warm and cosy but in a place like this, it was a haven. I’d already summoned one for the Second Wind crew at sunrise, a little act of kindness I did for them daily. With my spell quota drained – my early morning spent spell slot still had a couple of hours left – I had nothing left when the nobles came knocking.

  They demanded I conjure them a cabin, “by right,” they said. As though my magic automatically belonged to them. I told them the truth; first of all, get fucked, secondly, I was out of spells. I wasn’t lying either. My current spell loadout each day for the trials was two cabins, two origami golems, Bibliomancer’s Gravitropic Meteor and Dead Man’s Lightning Of Accuracy. They started making moves towards a tantrum, but Drakos put an end to that. He had a code, at least. Displays of superiority were allowed, but petulance was not. The noble kids slunk off, exuding bitterness under their fine cloaks, while the rest of us settled into the cabin I’d summoned.

  Drama over, Isabelle Fournier suggested drinks and cards, so we set up a table with a fire that I gestured to a raised plate in the middle, and started dealing out cards. Hugh was out, he couldn’t lie and Johan was out, he’d promised his mum he wouldn’t gamble, but Sam and I joined in, placing small bets, pretending we weren’t all tired and on edge. Johan conjured furniture as we needed it, making sure things were civilised.

  We chatted. It was nice but there was something underneath it all I couldn’t shake. Casual, like it wasn’t meant to mean anything. Then I realised that was it. They were casual with each other. I used Stop And Think with Library Of The Mind to check. It was there. These four; Isabelle Fournier, Adrien Lefevre, Charlotte Payne and Elodie Valleron all spoke to each other like they knew each other. If true, it was quite the statistical anomaly. None of them had the same accent.

  Adrien Lefevre, sitting across from me, tossed in a few coins and spoke like a man thinking aloud.

  “Hey, Booker, I appreciate you sticking it to the nobles. It’s just… we don’t want any backlash, you know? The mighty will fall but we’re just iron rankers. We need to be part of something if you want to shift the ground under their feet.”

  I scowled half-heartedly, but I was listening now. Charlotte Payne, next to him, smiled, slow and easy, her eyes on the fire.

  “It’s true,” she said. “People like us, we need to keep our head down. There’s something bigger at play. Bigger than any noble.”

  The air suddenly felt heavier, like the fire couldn’t reach the whole room.

  “Well,” I said and played my cards, tossing in a bet, “I’m receptive to that. What’s the deal?”

  This was unexpected and I was alert now. If I didn’t interrupt them, maybe they’d just keep talking. There was more going on in those words than frustration with the aristocracy. They weren’t angry, forlorn or any other emotion I’d seen with the nobs; they were... expectant. Excited even. Isabelle Fournier, her gaze distant, spoke up next.

  “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like... if we could rebuild things. Wipe the slate clean, you know?” Her tone was dreamy, but had an edge to it, like hard liquor.

  “A lot better,” I said with conviction but perhaps, I realised, not the same conviction as my fellows. We were talking about revolution, about toppling the nobles. That much was clear but there was something else under the surface of what she was saying that I was missing. Like I’d zoned out in the middle of a lecture and now I had to figure out what the topic had moved on to.

  “You don’t have to be so confrontational to get it, Dave,” said Adrien, leaning forward and dealing another hand with too much precision for the card novice he claimed to be. “You can’t fight them by being like them. Don’t you deny it. You act like you like what’s best for everyone else. Just like a noble, but you’re not.”

  I didn’t respond right away. Sam was also looking interested. She had no love of nobility either. She’d joined a revolutionary group when she was the same age as these kids because a noble had cheated her family out of their farm. I looked around the table noticing the cards get shuffled and the way the light flickered off their faces. Expectant faces. I wasn’t sure if I liked where this was going.

  Adrien’s voice dropped, low and persuasive, the kind of tone a man uses when he’s trying to sell you something.

  “You don’t have to fight them,” he said. “There’s no need for all that confrontation. Something’s coming, something stronger than they could ever hope to stop. Why stand in the way when you could... step aside? Let the nobles get what’s coming to them. Maybe even... help things along.”

  “What are you getting at?” I said. I couldn’t stop an eager smirk crossing my face.

  “Nothing,” Adrien said quickly, too quickly. “Just... things are changing, that’s all. All the recent… situations. Nobody’s happy and there’s a lot of… talk. Talk that the aristocrats are for the old world. And you could have a place in the Build-ing of a new one.” he smiled at me. “And then, they’ll get what’s coming to them. You’ve got skills. You could have a place in that.”

  That slip. ‘Build-ing’. He’d stuttered and his smile faltered, just for a moment. Old world. New world. The words hung in the air like smoke. The Builder.

  I leaned back in my chair, feeling the weight of the room change. The fire’s warmth was a mockery against the cold tingle that crept down my spine. I wasn’t looking at revolutionaries. I was looking at Builder cultists. They were watching me now, all of them, eyes like coals in the dark. They thought they were recruiting me.

  “I’d like a place in that,” I said, ignoring the leaden pit in my stomach. “How about my team helping all of you through these trials and you give us some introductions afterwards?”

  Adrien’s grin broke the tension in the room. Isabelle, Charlotte, and Elodie exhaled, grinned and exchanged glances, nodding slightly.

  “I think we can work something out,” Adrien said, his voice smooth, as though we’d just struck a deal at a market. “Stick with us, Dave. Help us get through this mess, and we’ll make sure you meet the people with the power to build new things.”

  “Then it’s a deal,” I replied, masking my fear behind a calm facade. I’d just been recruited into the Builder cult. “But now that we’re talking of tomorrow, we’re going to need some rest. I don’t think tomorrow’s going to be easier.”

  The cards were swept away, and the atmosphere shifted to one of camaraderie that I felt ill at ease in. As I settled onto the cot next to Sam she shot me a wide-eyed look. She’d been listening. The Builder cult had tried to kill her too. It was difficult to process what’d just happened. These dunces thought they were clever but had just recruited me, the assassination target of the attack on chateau Chamois, into their cause. Or, was I the dunce? Difficult to know. I wrote a note to Sam. Play along. I think I can use these guys. Also, Slimy takes first watch. Tzu takes second.

  I’d just added spy to my resume.

  He Who Writes.