ATTEMPT INITIATED

SCENARIO CONCEIT: Control. No variations.

City of Old Yru | 9:34 AM | First Day

...

Huh? What was I thinking about...?

For just a second, a funny feeling had struck me, like I was waking up from a dream. It felt as though I'd lost a train of thought, or was forgetting something important.

But quickly, my focus slipped, and it was gone. I returned to the moment.

Oh... That's right.

I was sitting in my seat, my feet propped up on my luggage, staring upwards at the sky through the glass roof of the carriage. The wheels and the hoof beats of the steed pulling it thrummed in the background rhythmically, both an ominous reminder of what was about to come, and a soothing reminder that it wasn't happening quite yet. Comforting and not-comforting, like a brace over a broken arm.

I was on a journey. An important one, though this was only the first step.

It had been about thirty minutes since we'd set off from Ran's lodging, an old apartment over a shop in the sea market. She'd wanted to take the tram, because she was sensible and economical, whereas I was neurotic and fiscally incompetent, and had thus insisted we take a carriage on the basis that it would help me 'feel more relaxed'. This, of course, had not happened-- If anything, the quiet was making me dwell on what was coming more than I would've been in the social atmosphere of public transport.

If there was something that most characterized me as an individual nowadays, it was little moments like this. Of cowardice and self-sabotage.

The two of us hadn't spoken for most of the trip, other than a little small talk. It wasn't that the atmosphere was awkward, per se, but it was complicated. It felt like we were at the end of a long road, and that anything I said would be somehow vulgar, inappropriate for the weight of the moment.

Which was annoying, because there was something I'd been meaning to say. To confess to her. Before everything that was going to happen in the weekend that to come.

I just... Wasn't quite sure how, yet.

So I kept watching the sky, for a little while. It was a grim-looking, overcast day, with only small holes in the grey cloud cover-- Better suited for a funeral than the event we were on our way to. Slowly, the creeping restlessness began to beat out the unease I was feeling, my finger starting to tap idly against the seating.

I turned to her.

She was a smaller woman than me, with short cut, curly hair, tan skin, and thick eyebrows, and was dressed in a professional-looking brown and black robe, in contrast to the rather unprofessional colorful wool stola I was wearing. Presently, she was reading a book, one of her high-brow romance novels.

I took a deep breath.

"Hey, Ran." I said, quietly.

She blinked, then looked up from it. "What is it, Su?"

"You want to... Hear a joke?"

She regarded me with a flat, skeptical expression.

"What?" I said, defensive. "Come on. Don't look at me like that."

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, then sighed, setting the novel aside for the moment. "Alright. Fine. Do your worst."

"Okay..." I said, shifting a little closer to her. "So: There's this man who hates his life. He has a few things going for him, a handful of family and friends... But overall, things aren't looking good. He works a boring, dead-end job that he hates, he doesn't have any prospects for romance, most people find him sort of obnoxious, and he lives in a small, shabby apartment. One day, he decides he's had enough--"

"This isn't going to be another suicide joke, is it?" She interjected flatly.

"Wh-- I..." I hesitated, scratching the side of my head. "Why are you jumping to to that conclusion?"

"You tell a lot of creepy jokes about people dying lately, Su," she said, her brow furrowed. "It's getting kinda worrying. Even considering the circumstances."

"Well, this won't be one of them," I insisted. "No suicide punchline. I swear."

She regarded me with a suspicious look.

"...alright," she eventually said. "Keep going."

"Uh, so," I continued, "One day, he decides that he wants to improve his lot by any means necessary. And the idea he comes up with is to sell his soul to a demon."

"Extreme response," she said dryly.

"Well, he's depressed," I explained. "So, you know, he's not exactly thinking straight. Anyway, he spends a few months doing research. He tracks down a bunch of ancient manuscripts, learns a lot about the dark arts, sacrifices some goats, that sort of thing. Finally, he's ready to go through with the ritual. He goes down into his basement--"

"Didn't you say he lived in an apartment?"

"T-That's not important," I said. "Basement, lavatory, any dingy part of his home works."

"Uh-huh," she said.

Thirty seconds in, I thought, and this is already falling apart.

"So... He sets to work drawing out an elaborate summoning circle, and recites the magic words, but is shocked when not just one, but four demons appear." I continued, holding up the according number of fingers. "Now, obviously, this causes a bit of a fiasco, since all of them have come a long way from hell in order to add a soul to their collection, only to discover that they might not get it. Pretty soon, the situation gets messy. The demons are yelling at each other, shooting fireballs everywhere..."

"Yeah, I get it."

"Eventually," I continued, "one of them starts shouting at him instead. 'How DARE you waste my time. human? How could you make such a stupid mistake?' And the man, who's panicking now, says, 'I'm so sorry about this! I'm still learning to read demonic runes, you see. I always miss the 'L' sounds, so where this part in the instructions which says, 'Carve the floor symbols,' I must have read it as 'Carve the four symbols.' Easy mistake to make, right?'"

Ran yawned a little, nodding.

"Of course, the demons are not happy," I went on, "but sooner or later he manages to calm them down. They're all here now, after all, so they might as well make the best of the situation. So: He offers them a deal. He'll let them all draw up a potential contract for the sale, then he'll consider each offer on their own merits and make a decision. They agree, on one condition. Since they're all pretty annoyed, whoever he picks will also put a little curse on him, as punishment for wasting their time--"

"This is getting really complicated for a joke, Su," Ran said. "Even by your standards."

"O-Oh, well..." I hesitated, my face flushing a bit as I looked downwards. "Um, I'm probably botching it a bit. It's going somewhere, though. I swear."

She looked skeptical about this, but sighed, gesturing for me to continue anyway.

"Right, so," I went on, clapping my hands together. "The first one to present the contract is the real prototypical image of a demon; red skin, fur, big horns, muscles. It tells him that the reason he's unhappy is simple: That he's too weak to impose his will on the world. In the contract, he offers him amazing strength and the ability to command the forces of darkness, so he can destroy the people he hates and take whatever he wants through raw power. Everyone will fear and respect him."

"Sounds kinda like the pitch I heard when I almost went to the military academy," Ran said, idly looking out the window. I saw we were heading up one of the bridges to the center of the city. Far below, thousands of people were walking down the streets of the canal promenade.

I snorted. "Was it really that bad?"

"It was that bad," she said.

"Geez," I said, shaking my head a little before resuming. "Anyway, the curse it chooses is to make a really ugly horn grow out of the middle of his forehead."

She considered this for a moment. "Seems like more of an advantage if he's going to be ruling by terror, doesn't it? That'd freak me out."

"Well... Maybe it's really heavy and impractical, so it gives him headaches," I suggested. "Anyway, then comes the second demon's turn. It's really gaudy. Heavy built, skin made out of gold, wearing half its weight again in fineries and precious gemstones. It tells the man that the first demon's suggestion is foolhardy. Maybe it would have made sense in the distant past, but in the modern, civilized world? It'd just get him in trouble. No, what he needs to be happy is wealth. In the contract, it offers him great manors, castles, servants. More money than he could possibly ever spend."

"Money?" She asked, with a baffled expression. "What year is this supposed to be happening in?"

"Uh, I don't think it really has much of a background setting," I said, scratching the side of my head. "Jokes generally don't."

"Not what I meant, you dolt," she said dryly. "Where did you even hear it?"

I bit my lip. "I don't really recall. I think it might've been back when I was living in Mehki... Or maybe a little before that...?"

She shook her head. "I swear, you have some supernatural power when it comes to picking up this stuff."

I was silent for a moment before continuing.

"So... That demon's curse is a quintessential midas touch, where anything he touches will turn to gold, so he can never be intimate with anyone," I explained. "Which, y'know, obviously isn't great. Now, the third demon looks a lot more feminine than the previous two. It has fair, pretty features, and hair like spun gold framing its delicate horns. It tells the man that both those previous offers are dreadful, because real happiness comes from having people love and care for you. In its contract, it offers to make him incredibly attractive and supernaturally charismatic, to the point that every word he speaks will be like poetry to anyone who hears it."

"Pretty good deal," she said. Her eyes were slipping back to her book. She seemed to be having trouble paying attention as the joke grew ever more complicated. "What's the curse?"

That the one person they want to love them the most doesn't exist anymore.

That no one will ever really love them ever again, because all they'll see is the phantom created by the demon.

What am I doing? This is stupid.

She frowned hesitantly at my pause. "Uh... Su?"

"Oh, sorry." I blinked. "Lost my train of thought. Um, the curse is that they can never use a mirror again, because if they do, they'll fall in love with their own reflection."

Ran snorted. "Harsh, but fair, I guess."

"Y-Yeah," I said. A little weakness started slipping into my voice. "Anyway, the final demon... It's only little, like a sprite or a goblin, with a toothy mouth and a long tail. Unlike the others, it's not completely over this whole competing-with-other demons arrangement-- Maybe it was in the middle of something important when it got summoned. So the contract it offers is a bit... Different." I looked downward, clasping my hands together. "Its offer to the man, rather than making his life better, is to make it worse. It says it'll burn down his house, afflict his family with nasty diseases, and make his luck terrible, so that he always fails at everything. And to warp..."

I stopped, just for a moment. I felt a funny feeling in my chest, and coughed.

"...to warp his mind, so that even if he somehow manages to make things better, he'll still be miserable anyway." I went on, clearing my throat. "And its curse is to carve a giant clock into the man's body. So that he'll always be reminded how much time is slipping away forever."

Ran blinked. "That's a little esoteric compared to the others."

"You know," I said, giving her an insecure smile, "If you keep interjecting like this, I'm never going to get to the end."

"Sorry, sorry." She made a dismissive gesture. "Go on, then. Put me out of my misery."

I took a deep breath. "So... Later, after all that's over, the man is telling this story to a friend over lunch. And the friend obviously asks, 'Well, hell, don't keep me in suspense. Which one did you pick?' And he's shocked when he tells him that, in the end... He chose the fourth offer." I paused for a moment, thinking how to phrase the next part. "Now... Obviously, he can't understand why his friend would make that decision, since it's, well-- Terrible."

"No kidding," Ran said.

"However," I went on, "eventually, the friend claps his hands together, and says, 'Ahah, I understand now! It must've been because you realized that power, wealth, and love and all just things that burden you in the end. And that true enlightenment and meaning can only come when you have nothing at all, right?!'"

Ran snorted.

"But the man," I continued, "slowly shakes his head. He tells him the real reason that he picked it is because, while he was reading all those grand offers in the contracts, he begun to realize something."

"...yeah?"

I frowned to myself, my tone growing more distant. "He realized that... He didn't really know why he was unhappy at all," I said, looking out the window. We were passing the hanging gardens at the city center now, which meant we were close. "Because when he got right down to it, things weren't that bad for him. In spite of the problems, he was comfortable, relatively secure. In all his life, he'd always blamed external factors for his misery. That he wasn't wealthy, that people kept him down, that he wasn't liked. But he started to consider if the real problem... Was something within himself."

Ran was silent, staring at me with a confounded expression.

By now, I was certain this had been a dumb idea. But it was far too late to stop.

"And he started to get scared," I said, "that maybe, even after he chose one those contracts that swept away his problems, he'd still be miserable. And then he'd have nothing left to blame. And he'd have to say, 'this is my fault. It's my fault that I'm unhappy. I went as far as giving away my own soul because I was too afraid to admit that the problem was within myself.'

"But when he read the fourth contract, he was so relieved," I continued, my voice cracking just a little. "Because if he picked it, he'd have someone to blame again! Now and forever, legitimately! For every injustice he suffered, he'd always be able to say it was the demon's fault. That the demon was making him suffer. That he wasn't broken, or wretched, or debased in some inherent way. That he was simply a victim."

The moment streched out strangely, like time itself was bending around its center of gravity. My lips felt dry, and my head heavy.

I hesitated as I opened my mouth, trying to find the right words.

"And he decided..."

What did he decide?

"He decided," I finished, "that was the best existence he could concieve of having."

Silence.

We went over a bump on the road. The carriage rattled a bit.

I'd broken eye contact with Ran at some point earlier, so I couldn't see her reaction at first. I waited a few moments for some kind of reaction. When that rection never came, I looked up. Her mouth was slightly agape, her expression one of utter bemusement.

"Uh." She eventually said. "Is that it...?"

I was quiet for a while. I looked at her face carefully. Her flat brow, her inquistive eyes. Her lips that were almost always curled into a serious frown. Hoping, even though I paradoxically feared it at the same time, to see understanding in her expression.

That here, when everything was about to end, there wouldn't have to be any secrets left between us at all.

But after a few moments, I turned away, and let out a sigh that I hoped was imperceptible.

"Yeah," I said. "That was it."

"But there was no punchline," she said. "It just stopped."

"Well... Not as such," I admitted. I smiled weakly. "I suppose it's sort of an anti-joke?"

She furrowed her brow, incredulous. "What the fuck is an 'anti-joke'?"

"You know," I explained. "You go in expecting to laugh, and instead you end up depressed. It subverts your expectations."

"Oh, god. Piss off, Su." She threw her book at me, and I recoiled, breaking out in laughter somewhat as it bounced off my shoulder. "I swear, I don't know why I put up with your bullshit."

I tossed it back to her. "I guess there must be something you still find endearing?"

She picked it back up and flipped through the pages, trying to find her place. "I almost would have preferred another one about someone trying to hang themselves. At least I'm used to that."

The carriage fell quiet again as she resumed reading. After the moment had passed, I let out another, quieter little laugh to myself. Half out of relief, and half out of mere embarassment. Not at the situation, but just at my reckoning of myself as a human being.

Gods, I thought. I really am a fuckup.

I sighed.

Well, might as well make the best of it anyway, right?

I crossed my legs, and waited for what felt like the appropriate amount of seconds.

"Of course," I said, in the deliberately flippant, off-handed tone people always use to deliver punchlines. "All that stuff he said was a total lie to sound profound. Really, he just wanted a giant penis."

She looked up from her book again, and stared at me for about fifteen solid seconds. The carriage went over some rough terrain, and rattled a bit.

"...uh, what?" She eventually asked.

"That was the real end of the joke," I explained. "The first one was a fake-out."

She blinked, processing this for a moment.

"I don't get it," she eventually said.

"Well... You remember when I said that he can't read the letter 'L' right?"

"Uh-huh," she said, with a small nod.

"Because he couldn't translate the ancient runes properly."

"Yes."

"Well, when the demons were all making their offers, they added those curses, right? And the curse of the last one was to affix a giant clock to him." I gestured towards her. "And remember, he can't read 'L' sounds, right? So... In other words..."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"...that punchline," she eventually said, "was incredibly bad, Su."

"What?" I frowned. "Really?"

"Really," she said. "Worse than your usual ones."

"What was so wrong with it?"

"For one thing, it was way too drawn out for the payoff," she explained, her gaze pointed. "The distance between the setup and the punchline was so long that even if there weren't any other problems, it would fall flat. But even putting that aside, the entire premise was so out there that practically nobody would ever put it together. Like, not only do you have to make the connection between not being able to read L sounds... Which is awkwardly established to begin with, since it's never even established that the contracts are written in the same language as the summoning ritual... But you have to realize that it expects you to notice the 'L' in that one particular word, but not anywhere else. I mean, how many L's were there in all of the different contracts?"

I hesitated. "I mean, I thought I got the delivery down pretty well, so it'd be easier to notice..."

"And even if you accept those problems and take it for what it is," she went on, "it's structured terribly, too. The essential parts of the 'setup', the reading problem and the curses, aren't woven into the main thrust of the joke at all. They feel like awkward additions put in after the fact. And there's so much flab that's not even tangentially related. What's the point of describing the demons? Or the tonal whiplash, at the end?"

"Well, uh, that's part of the gag, isn't it...?" I scratched the side of my head, looking a little embarrassed. "You know-- It gets all depressing and high minded, and then it ends in a stupid way you don't expect."

"It doesn't even work for that, though, because punchline comes out of nowhere. It doesn't even fit the early parts on a tonal level. It's just weird."

I slumped my shoulders. "You don't have to be so aggressive about all this."

"Did you make up that joke yourself, Su?" she said, her eyebrows lowered in skepticism.

"N-No," I said, defensively.

"Yeah, you did," she said. "I bet the original one was going to be something really depressing, but then pivoted when I told you not to do that. Am I right?"

"If that did happen, it would be your fault," I said, quietly and in a slightly sulky tone.

I was mostly acting. In truth, I was glad. Glad that we fell so easily back into this old dynamic, after using the out I'd given myself. Glad that she didn't seem to have picked up on anything.

After all, if you can't cut something rotten off cleanly, it's better not to cut at all.

"I mean... I wasn't going to punish you," she continued, after a moment has passed. "I just... Since we're going to this thing, I'm worried about you getting into a negative mindset right from the start."

"I'm not that bad, Ran," I said, not meeting her eyes.

"I just think--"

Suddenly, the carriage lurched as it pulled to the side of the road, the the seating bumping up as the horses slowed before coming to a stop, directed by the automatic driver.

"Oh, shit," she said, sitting up and putting her book in her bag. "We're here. That was pretty fast for the traffic."

From the floor of the carriage, a small pillar of glass-like material rose, its slightly strange, subtly-multifaceted coloration the sole indication that it was anything about it was abnormal. A small bell next to it began to ring, and we reached out and touched it with the palms of our hands.

It wasn't quite like we heard a voice in our heads, though a logic bridge could do that if it had to; it was just inefficient. So people learned, usually from childhood, the raw impulses almost as a language unto themselves. In the same way that you one knows the feeling of touching wood despite the fact it would be very difficult to describe in a way that would be distinct from touching stone or any other hard, flat surface, you just understood.

Understand that the journey is finished, it communicated.

Understand that this was a seventeen minute journey that traveled through three transposition points. Understand that this will incur two strikes of luxury debt.

Understand that you may split this debt between you, or one person may take it upon themselves.

"I'll take it all," I said.

"You're sure?" She asked.

"Yeah," I said, nodding. From the moment we'd arrived, my head had started feeling a little hot, my breathing growing heavy. "I'm the reason we did it. Besides, I know it's a little easier for me than for you."

She snorted. "Never one to pass up the chance to flaunt your wealth."

"It's not like that..."

"Well, don't get too pleased with yourself," she said. She didn't smile, but I knew from experience she meant it mirthfully. "It's not as big a difference between us as it used to be."

"Yeah..." I said, trying to smile. "I guess not."

I pressed my hand against the glass surface again. As I did, I noticed I was shaking, just a little bit.

"Hey," Ran said, in what I knew, for her, was a reassuring tone. "You gonna be okay?"

Ridiculous, I thought. Ridiculous that she should even be asking.

That she's come to treat me with this sort of kindness.

"Yeah," I said, my voice coming out a little breathy. "I'm... alright."

"You kind of look like hell, all of a sudden," she said. She tried to smile, too, which was extremely rare for her.

She wasn't very good at it.

"I mean it. I'm just a little anxious." I laughed awkwardly. "Last chance to turn and back out before it would mean literally running away from a bunch of people in public, I suppose."

"Yeah," she said, nodding a few times. "I get it."

A moment of silence passed between us.

"Whatever does happen," she said, lowering her eyes, her expression and voice becoming more serious, "after the next few days, it'll be over. And that will be the end of it, for both of us. And then, depending on what they say, you can decide what you want to do with... Uh..."

She trailed off, not seeming to know how to finish the sentence.

"Well..." she eventually continued. You can decide whatever you want to do. It might be difficult, but you'll manage it, one way or the other."

I smiled weakly, not knowing what to say.

But, then, I never had, from our very first meeting. The only thing that changed was the degree to which she had both come, and I had in my cowardice led her, to accept it. In spite of what both of us deserved.

"Come on, Ran," I said, not meeting her eyes. "Babying me like this isn't like you at all."

"I guess not, huh." She sighed, then gestured towards the logic bridge. "You gonna do the thing?"

"Oh," I said, snapping out of the moment. "Right, sorry."

I communicated that I wished to take on the debt for the journey.

Understand that Utsushikome of Fusai has now taken on 2 strikes of luxury debt, it responded. Understand you may now depart. Understand that this is an area with high foot traffic, and that you must mask your face. Understand that it is a serious offense to bear responsibility for a prosognostic event--

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Ran muttered. She pulled up her veil from where it was resting on her neck, covering everything from top of her forehead to the bottom of her chin in a layer of black, partially-transparent cloth. I did the same, squinting as I adjusted my glasses after the fact. They were made to be easier to see through from the inside, but it was still annoying.

"Alright," I said. "Let's go."

𒊹

Old Yru Academy of Medicine and Healing, Auditorium | 10:15 AM | First Day

We were assembled in a tidy row, like cuts of meat in a butchers shop. ...Okay, that turn of phrase might be a little excessive to lead with. It felt uncomfortable, is my point.

The auditorium was one of the oldest parts of the academy, one of the only two buildings that had survived the bombing which almost destroyed the institution two decades prior. It was a circular chamber that seated about 500, with a roof of glass, which was about the only aspect of it that looked remotely modern. The rest was old, the walls and pillars wrought out of stained limestone. Banners, bearing the academy symbol of an angry-looking owl clutching a healing rod, hung from the back of the room.

There were ten of us in total, seated on a set of wooden chairs before the stage curtain. Most of the others looked like they didn't share my negative outlook. They wore excited expressions, or at least professional smiles, as they regarded the group seated in front of us.

It wasn't, all told, much of a crowd - I counted something in the range of about 100 people - but the attentiveness of them made it feel larger. Most of the time, this area was used for assemblies or academic presentations, and primarily hosted sleep-deprived students. This time, they hadn't been invited. Instead, the crowd leaned much older and more acclaimed. I saw professors and recognized academics, journalists, investors and board members of the academy. A couple of members of the city government were even present. All of them were dressed finely, in rich-coloured chitons, robes and skirts. Many carried scepters, as you'd expect for an event pertaining to arcane study.

And all of them were watching closely, some even prepared to take notes. It was possibly the first time in my life that I'd felt like I was at the center of an important event that wasn't something personal like a birthday party. This was capital-N News, and we weren't just spectators. We were the story itself.

Even bereft of the wider context, it made me feel anxious. Though that wasn't much of an accomplishment.

Standing in the middle of the stage, separate from our group, was an eleventh figure. He was a man with a somewhat dark complexion, clad in a rich blue robe, with finely combed brown hair and a strong, imperious nose. This was the headmaster of the academy: Ishkibal of Nuradan, a man of great reputation, renowed as a scholar and an administrator.

I absolutely loathed him. I'd never met anyone more smug in my entire life. But that's an incidental point right now.

Having just been introduced by one of the professors, he began his speech.

"Thank you all for coming, my friends," he said. His tone was formal, but carried a hint of his ever-present self-satisfaction. "I will try to be succint."

You fucking liar, I thought.

"It is a day of great pride for our academy," he said. "Standing here, it's almost difficult to conceive of how far we've come in the past twenty years. I still remember the day I was asked to take up this post, when the buildings themselves were a half destroyed ruin, and our reputation damaged seemingly beyond repair by the hyper-partisanship of the civil dispute."

I rolled my eyes. The 'civil dispute' was the term that people who didn't like to acknowledge the revolution had been noteworthy used to refer to it. As for the rest, well, it was a funny way of saying that the academy's upper ranks had abandoned all pretenses of neutrality and taken a side in a political conflict.

The wrong side, as it had turned out.

"We have come far from those grim days," he continued, "And today, thanks to the indomitable determination of our staff, our administrative board, and of course our students, we are closer than ever towards regaining our historical position as the most prestigious institution for the training of arcane healers in Ysara-- If not the entire Remaining World. In this past year, more published discoveries concerning human health and the eradication of disease have originated within these walls then in in any other institution, without exception. And those efforts have not gone without impact."

He lifted up a sheet of parchment in front of him. "According to the civil census, in this past year, the mean human lifespan of our great city has risen for the third time in this decade, from 517 years to a new, all time high of 518 years. And I am pleased to announce that, as of this past Monday, the Old Yru City Council has voted to formally acknowledge our academy as a major contributor to this achievement, both through our training of the finest physicians and healers in the Mimikos, and the discovery of new tools for their ever-expanding arsenals in the war against human infirmity."

He allowed for a modest applause from the crowd. Don't think we didn't notice that was the exact same speech you've given four times this year already, you ass. And don't think you're fooling anyone with that 'oh, I'm so grateful that everyone but me made this possible' routine. I've seen how close you look to orgasm every time one of the board members gives you a compliment.

I must have been grimacing, because when I glanced over to Ran - who was seated on the chair next to mine, right at the end of the line - she was giving me a disapproving expression. I quickly pulled my lips back into a smile.

"But of course," the headmaster continued, a well-practiced smile on his face. "We are not here today to discuss statistics, or the achievements of the academy in broad terms. No, today we are here because of the extraordinary accomplishments of our exemplary acolytes class." He gestured towards us, and I tried not to make a stupid expression as the eyes of the crowd shifted. "Now having collectively achieved the fourth-highest grade level of any class in our history, they have more than realized the programs inceptual ambition to identify the most gifted and diligent young arcanists in all of the Grand Alliance, and unite them so that they might form the bedrock of the next generation of scholars of the healing arts."

More applause.

"As I'm sure many of you already know," he went on, "this year, in light of its consistently outstanding performance, the class was extended the unprecedented privilege of an invitation to participate in the Conclave of the Universal Panacea, a convention of the greatest minds within the entire sphere of arcane healing that, fifteen years ago, finally revealed itself and the identities of its membership to the world after centuries of unjust prohibition under the fundamentalist interpretation of the Biological Continuity Oath. Whose ranks include such esteemed figures as Zeno of Apocyrion, the creator of Neuromancy, and Hamilcar of Kane, creator of the artificial heart. And many more of equal esteem."

He allowed a moment for the audience to be impressed by these name-drops. They seemed suitably so, a few whispering among themselves.

"It is an incredible landmark," he continued, "from seeing such an institution of arcane study as a titan towering on the horizon, to our academy producing students they believe fit to become their peers."

Still more applause. I bit my lip.

This is ridiculous, I thought. It's just nepotism. Everyone here knows it nepotism. We have three people in our class who are literally close relatives of conclave members. This is public knowledge.

Perhaps I was being childish. No, objectively I was being childish. But I really did despise this sort of social theater. Being paraded around like some piece of art, while a bunch of old men made big claims at each other, even though there must have only been a handful of people in the audience unaware they were complete bunk. Like the miraculous recovery of the academy. Everyone knew it had only happened because the Alliance had poured an absurd amount of resources into it after the revolution, as part of their attempt to foster cooperation between the member nations of the Grand Alliance. It's easy to win a race when someone in the stands levitates you over the finish line.

The whole affair felt like a pointless peacock dance. If there was one part of me that had never progressed from child to adult, it was the one meant to understand affairs like this.

"Today, for the first time, the members of the class are not here as mere students, but as ambassadors for our great institution, and indeed, for all members of the 14th generation. And so, rather than speaking for them, I will allow them to give voice to their feelings about this auspicious day themselves, through their class representative, miss Kamruespa of Tuon. Kam, please come forward."

The crowd applauded yet again, though this time Ishkibal joined in. From one of the seats adjacent to the center, a young woman of average height, pale skin, and bright orange-red hair dressed fancifully in a dark green dress, stood. Smiling broadly, she moved to stand the headmaster, holding out a hand for the crowd.

Oh, I thought. This should be good.