[33]

Perceptive as she was, Elaine picked up on my barely concealed discomfort with no difficulty. When we reached our Introduction to Classes class, she wished us well and told our group that she made plans to sit with her friend and fellow noble Sephare.

Even after she left, I could not help but look across the open-air pavilion to where she sat, chatting and laughing with her companions. I envied and feared her for it. The RRS tasked Elaine with rooting out a conspiracy that threatened our civilization. Yet, if there was any pressure on her from such an imposing assignment, you would never know it.

My ability picked up no spite from her, and she had never done me harm. Vascora herself wanted me to assist Elaine’s mission. There was no reason not to trust her. Why was I so reluctant to just give in? I could embrace the role set before me, enjoying every second in her company.

It might even turn in to more.

A spike of fear entered my gut when I entertained the thought. That was it. My hangup, I realized, was from our association becoming more than a cover. Elaine offered an additional layer of difficulty and danger to my life that I did not need. Her organization terrified me, and no doubt a conflict of interest between us would eventually arise. What would she do then? It did not matter, ultimately. All I knew was that it would shatter the pieces of a heart that I still had left.

It was me I did not trust.

As if sensing my thoughts, Elaine turned my direction, catching me looking from afar. She granted me a lovely smile that was full of warmth and reassurance. I tried to give one back, but I just was not much of an actor.

“What do you think this class is about, anyway? Who doesn’t know what a class is?” Raxx asked, rescuing my attention.

“Not sure, but it has to be important,” I said, motioning to the pavilion packed with first years from all three of Ashmere’s programs. There was a sea of black, red, and blue robes.

Two days ago, along with Joy, the class I had was Herbalism for this time slot. They locked our schedules into rigid training, with only the exception of our studies day morning class. We trained for six days a week. On odd days, except for when we rested on Sevenday, we had combat then physical fitness to improve our physical attributes and skills. For the even days, we had our scholar studies courses for mental attributes and associated skills. Ashmere locked mid morning and afternoon scholar studies classes in place just like the physical, making us take Monsters and Spell Casting. However, on days two and six we had to take a trade class for our first, and most important, skill classes. Midweek, on day four, we took this class Introduction to Classes.

A pale skinned, liver-spotted, yellow-robed man shuffled down the aisle toward the podium on the stage. Unlike the students of Ashmere, he wore an actual robe, in the traditional sense of the word. Whereas our robes only came down to our hips, tightly tied off at the waist so that we could maintain combat readiness, his garment dragged to the ground picking up dirt and grass stains along the hem. The man was elderly, if not ancient, and had a stooping, slow walk. A kind blue robed student in the front row realized that our new instructor would not easily make the stairs, and sprang up to offer him help onto the stage. The kindly old man smiled, giving thanks.

“Huh, a senior priest of Solmena,” Joy said, looking a tad nervous.

“You have a problem with them?” I asked, curious.

“What? No, both of my parents are priests of Solmena,” Joy said.

It made sense. Solmena was a goddess of knowledge and poetry. If anyone should spend their life working in a library, it would be a priest or priestess of that goddess.

“Welcome, welcome,” the old priest intoned with a clear voice developed from a life of public speaking. “I am Instructor Fayne, a priest of Solmena, and it is my pleasure to be here before you today.”

Then chuckling and sitting in a chair, Instructor Fayne said, “I am not a spring chick, I hope you will forgive me if I sit for the class.”

The class respectfully waited for him to get settled in.

“All right. Why do we have classes?” Instructor Fayne asked.

A red robed military student sort of answered, “So, uh, you can teach us stuff?”

Everyone laughed, and the student turned almost as red as his robe.

“Not quite the classes, I mean,” Instructor Fayne said, fighting to contain his own laugh. “Anyone else?”

Thankfully, a blue-robed scholar student answered this time. “To do the gods will.”

“Excellent answer!” the old man said, with genuine enthusiasm. “That is the essence of what classes are for. Now, another question if I may, since we still have an hour.”

A few chuckles from the audience followed. It was hard not to like the disarming old guy.

“What is the god's will?” Instructor Fayne asked.

That one took a moment for everyone to process. Come to think of it, I had never once questioned what Vascora wanted from me. I had felt her boundless love from the moment of ascendency. Barring that it was Vascora’s priestesses that ran some of the most important charities, taking in unwanted children in her orphanages, and creating camps for the diseased and disfigured. What kind of man would I be to betray the trust of so wonderful a goddess? She was a force of good that protected and nurtured the unfortunate. That was ever her goal.

Echoing my thoughts, another ascended answered, “To protect us from the evil of the Ruinlands.”

“So the gods are good then? What of Skoran? Do his bandits and outlaws protect us too?” Instructor Fayne countered.

The same student scoffed, “Skoran is an evil god.”

I agreed. Skoran was the god of Criminals and Outlaws. Any band of men and women that reached over thirty people could elect and swear an oath to a chief on Skoran’s behalf, and he would grant them classes. Classes that are responsible for atrocities the world over.

“So you believe some gods are good, and others are evil?” Instructor Fayne asked.

A nod from the student.

“Who is a good god?” Instructor Fayne smiled.

“Harkon. He brings law, and justice to the world.” Answered another student.

“Interesting.” Instructor Fayne said, stroking his ragged grey beard. “Did you know that for nearly a decade after the uprising of the Jalma revolutions, that any baby born with purple hair had their throat slit by law?”

A few of the olive skinned Jalmese students shifted, looking uncomfortable.

“It was Harkon’s inquisitors that hunted them down and carried out the sentence. They believed it was a righteous cause to slay nobles before they could corrupt the world with their inherent depravity. And, do you know who ran a network of agents that saved innocent children from this awful fate? Devotees of Skoran, the Outlaw god.” Instructor Fayne said.

I could hear only the wind blowing through the nearby trees as everyone sat in speculation about the priest of Solmena that defended the god of crime.

An angry black robed student eventually spoke up, “So what are you saying? They use us for their own gain? You make it sound like the gods are no better than the demon lords.”

“We get to the core!” Instructor Fayne said, clapping his hands excitedly. “Why did the gods banish the Mage Kings?”

“Because they were evil…?” Someone asked.

“Sometimes, yes.” Instructor Fayne said, nodding. “Anyone else?”

Joy surprised me, answering in a voice that was almost passionate, “Because they twisted man and animal with their magic, altering souls and perverting the natural cycle of the world. And they summoned beings that did the same.”

Most of the class turned to look at the only wildling present.

“Precisely,” Instructor Fayne said, giving a sad smile to Joy. “The gods are entities of balance, neither good, nor evil, and it is their job to ensure that all of us have free will. Through them, we may bring about the greater person we are meant to be.”

“For a time, they shirked this burden, allowing the races of the world to do what they may. That lapse in judgement gave us the Mage Kings, who argued that it was their right to do what they wished with creation. Their mastery of magic combined men with beasts, giving us beastmen which they used for forced, specialized slave labor. For their enjoyment, they altered souls, twisting living things into monsters that only lived to kill for essence. Had the gods not intervened, banishing them to the hells they now dwell in, all of reality would be a continuous perversion under the depredations of the Mage Kings.”

“So, it is this one thing that unites the gods. It is their will, that we have the power of choice. And you,” Instructor Fayne said, pointing to every one of us,” are the ones responsible for protecting us from the Ruinlands, not the gods. If you fail, they will not intervene for us a second time.”