Unlike other classes, Combat was held every day, though at slightly different times. Today the Draigwyns and Hafgufans arrived in time to see the members of House Turul leaving, the largest house having class blocks entirely to itself thanks to the sheer number of students that were from the Valendian Empire.

Combat went no better than it had the day before, and it was a sore Rowan that departed the showers for his first normal class of the day: Etiquette.

Etiquette went by in much the same fashion as History had the previous day. The basic concepts that the other students all seemed to know were glossed over by the professor, an energetic and well put together man called Samecks.

Fortunately, Rowan knew much more about etiquette than he did history, having learned at least some parts of what not to do in passing through the eager assistance of violent nobles back in Taureen. Unfortunately, this proved nowhere near enough for him to impress Professor Samecks, and etiquette was added to the list of things he needed to study for, which was growing at a rate that would have put the legendary Jax’s beanstalk to shame.

Following Etiquette, Rowan had an hour and a half of free time before his first class with Professor Soreth, and he used it to crack open the textbook for her class, hoping to at least learn enough not to be embarrassed as he had been in History.

The textbook to Magical Theory, however, made less sense to Rowan that it would have had it been written in another language entirely. Closing the book to make sure that it was not, Rowan felt a ball of dread settle in his stomach. History and Etiquette at least had been taught in Valendi, which he understood, however tenuously the two aforementioned classes had made that understanding feel. Magical Theory seemed to be entirely charts and diagrams and formulas, none of which he could make heads or tails of.

Cursing his lack of education, Rowan was forced to close the book. He opted instead to practice the spell Typh had taught them the day before, reasoning that magic was half of the class title, and so practicing magic had to help somewhat, right?

Wrong. That was the conclusion Rowan came to after ten minutes in Kanna’s classroom, the decor surprisingly light on cats after what he had seen in her office. Magical Theory was nothing like Intro to Magic had been.

Apart from a quick mention that magic would be used eventually, at which Kanna had waved her hands haphazardly in the air to demonstrate the nebulous concept that was the word, eventually, the entire lesson was just as it had been in the textbook. Diagrams, equations, and strange symbols that Kanna occasionally stopped to explain were what filled the lesson and Rowan’s notebook.

Walking out of the classroom an hour later, he suddenly understood why several of the pages in his used textbook sported water damage. If the lessons continued to be this hard, he would want to cry too.

And cry Rowan did, several times over the course of the next month, secluded in his little hideaways that he found around the academy as he lamented his shortcomings and seeming inability to understand that which came so naturally to so many of his classmates.

It was natural that he shed a few tears of frustration in these sorts of situations, but this only reinforced his desire to remain. He would struggle, he would hurt, and he would cry, but never again did Rowan want his tears to be the bitter tears of a futile struggle to just survive.

Studying, training, eating, and sleeping. Those became Rowan’s schedule, the only things he did between waking in the morning and sleeping whenever it was that he could catch a few spare moments. Between the work needed to catch up in History and Etiquette, the training required to not be a continual laughingstock in Combat class, and the mountain of homework that Kanna assigned them, Rowan hardly had time to eat, let alone sleep.

His only consolation was that he was not the only one tormented by the sheer amount of work Kanna alone was giving them. Several of the other Draigwyns who had taken the class bemoaned their misfortunes loudly and publicly in the common room, as did those of the other houses in the hallways and cafeteria. Even mentioning Professor Soreth’s name around a first year taking her course was akin to torture, as the fact that they were nowhere near done whatever readings and homework she had assigned that week would instantly suck any happiness from their mood.

This schadenfreude was all that kept Rowan going some days, but kept going he did. And as the leaves started to change colours, a chill seeping in through the windows at night, and the winds that howled through the mountains growing fierce in the absence of the summer heat, he too began to change.

Incidentally, Rowan hated the cold. Having been born and raised in Taureen, he was used to the hot sun and the cool desert air, not the insidious chill of the north. Already, he wore long sleeves, dreading the oft-mentioned approach of winter that everyone from the north seemed to have accepted, and everyone from the south had deemed a looming crisis.

Reminding himself to grab another blanket from the dormitory closets, Rowan closed his book, mentally reviewing what he had just read to make sure that he understood it all. His history test was tomorrow, and Professor Dahlren had made it clear that this test would be significantly harder than the last.

Given his score on the last test, Rowan had thus spent the last day focusing on history, putting etiquette practice and combat training aside in order to focus on getting a good mark. Not for the first time, Rowan considered studying a little longer, rather than getting to the work Kanna had assigned for tomorrow, but he decided against it.

Kanna had not been happy the one and only time he had done that, and her verbal haranguing of his capabilities still made him cringe, as did her implied threats of using magical means to ‘encourage’ him to study.

Deciding that he was as ready as he would ever be for his test, Rowan left the nook he had been using as a study area, stretching long like a cat before setting off for the Draigwyn dorm. Hiding himself away in small or secluded spaces had been a habit of his for years, and surprisingly, it worked just as well for studying as it had for evading the Taureen guard patrols. A month into the semester and Rowan had found four such places across the campus, all hidden well away from prying eyes and strong glares.

“Rowan!” a voice called out.

Shoulders tensing, Rowan relaxed as he recognized the voice, turning to greet his friend with a smile. Unlike a certain someone, Dugan was always happy to see Rowan, and he had been the one bright spot in an otherwise depressing first month at Faebrook, occasionally eating with him in the cafeteria, or helping him with History and Etiquette.

Although he sometimes questioned why a boy as affable and popular as Dugan hung out with him, Rowan had given up on trying to figure it out. Dugan was a good friend, and for Rowan, those had been in short supply his entire life, the only two he had ever had having dropped him off in this place a month previous. He was not about to drive away the only person around who was willing to befriend him over his own paranoia, however justified it may or may not be.

“Dugan!” Rowan greeted genially. “What’s up?”

“Just on my way back from the library,” Dugan replied, holding up a book to prove his words. “I looked for you earlier to study, but couldn’t find you.”

“Ah, I was… busy,” Rowan said guiltily, not meeting his friend’s eyes. Although he considered Dugan a friend, that did not mean he trusted him unconditionally. The existence and locations of his hiding places were on a strictly need-to-know basis, and as far as Rowan was concerned, no one needed to know. “Was just about to head back to the Draigwyn dorm to grab my Magic Theory books and study that.”

Dugan made a face. “Ugh, so glad I didn’t take that course. From what you’ve told me, and what my friends in my house have told me, it sucks.”

“It’s not that bad,” Rowan said in an attempt to defend Kanna. “Just… a lot of work.”

“I bet,” Dugan quipped. “Anyways, I gotta go, got class in five minutes. I just wanted to stop and say good luck on your test tomorrow.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.” Rowan replied darkly.

Dugan laughed. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Well, see you!”

With that, Dugan was off, loping gracefully as he jogged towards the castle, deftly slipping by other students, the halls filling as class let out. Deciding that was his cue as well, Rowan headed for the Draigwyn dorms, doing his best to hurry before the halls filled too much to be easily navigable.

Several older students were present in the common room when Rowan arrived, hanging around by the fire and comparing weapons. They looked up when Rowan arrived, their eyes taking him in before turning away with disinterested gazes.

Rather than be offended at this, Rowan was secretly elated. He had worked hard the past month to ensure that he kept as low a profile as possible, doing his best to eliminate the habits he had picked up on the streets, and so far it seemed to have worked. He had no friends in the house, but nor did he have any real enemies, Morgana’s annoyance with him making him just one in a long list of people she seemed to dislike.

By the fire, the older students, fourth years if Rowan remembered correctly, had put their weapons aside and were now comparing scars, the fruits of their adventures outside the castle, and their misadventures within it.

Passing by, Rowan headed straight for the stairs, the trunk under his bed where he had stored his Magic Theory homework his goal.

With the floomp of freshly washed sheets, Rowan landed on the bed, still reveling in its softness even a month since he had first started using it. Beds were not a thing on the streets, the closest one could get being a mattress of straw or discarded cloth sacks, and he had enjoyed the soft and warm sensations it provided every night since his arrival, the occasional bad dreams notwithstanding.

Forcing himself to stay awake, Rowan began to work on the readings Kanna had assigned, the day swiftly turning to night as he studied. At last, well after the final night bell had been tolled, Rowan put the work down, not even bothering to disrobe as he gave in to the clutches of sleep.

Tests are bullshit. That was the primary thought in Rowan’s mind as he departed History class, feeling slightly depressed. The test had not gone well. Professor Dahlren had somehow conspired to use only the bits of history that Rowan had not studied, expertly avoiding the parts he had studied like a carriage driver dodging around pedestrians on the road.

Dreading the mark he was going to get, Rowan nearly bumped straight into a girl, her eyes sharp as she glanced at him.

“Rowan?” she asked.

“Yes?” Rowan responded, uncertain of what she wanted with him. He had never seen this girl before in his life, but it was evident that she wanted him for something.

“Professor Soreth wanted me to give this to you,” the girl told him, neatly answering Rowan’s question as she held out a letter with his name scrawled on the front.

“Um, thanks,” Rowan told her, receiving a nod in response.

“Don’t mention it.” With that, she was off, leaving Rowan staried nonplussed at the letter in his hands. Outside of class, he had only seen Kanna once since the term had started, and so to suddenly receive a message felt highly unusual.

Tearing the letter open, Rowan took a piece of parchment from within, Professor Soreth’s distinctive scrawl forcing him to squint in order to make out what she had written.

The woman may be an incredibly accomplished mage, but her handwriting was awful, and it was with difficulty that Rowan figured out she wanted to see him, immediately.

Letter clenched in his hand, Rowan hurried through the halls, wracking his brain to remember if he had done anything wrong recently. As far as he could tell, he was doing alright in her class, and ever since the one time he had failed to complete the assigned work, he had faithfully done his best to complete her assignments ever since, however terrible those efforts may have been.

Hopefully, she just wants me to do something for her. I am her apprentice after all, or provisional apprentice anyways. Pinning his hopes on that scenario, Rowan arrived in front of Kanna’s office, slightly out of breath from the brisk pace he had employed to make it here so quickly. Kanna’s office was on the other side of the castle from Professor Dahlren’s classroom, and Faebrook was not a small academy. Pausing to catch his breath, Rowan brushed himself off before knocking at the door.

“It’s open,” Kanna called from within, the door opening smoothly at her words. By now, Rowan was used to such displays of magic, and he paid the door little heed as he entered, taking a seat as Kanna directed.

“So,” Kanna began. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here.”

“Something to do with my work as your provisional apprentice?” Rowan guessed.

“Your grades, actually,” Kanna informed him.

Hearing this, a seed of panic began to take root within Rowan, but he forced his face to remain neutral. His grades were terrible, that much was true, but they were improving, having recently upgraded from dreadful.

Staring at his face for a moment, Kanna sighed in disappointment as she realized he was not biting. “You’re no fun. Yes, I called you here to talk about your duties as my provisional apprentice, although your grades really do need work.”

Silently cheering the fact that he was not being kicked out of the academy due to his grades, at least not yet, Rowan nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need some tier one magical crystals,” Kanna informed him. “The market has been dry recently due to the Valendian militaries’ spending sprees, and I require them for an experiment. I need you to acquire them for me.”

Holding up her hand to forestall any questions, Kanna used her other to reach inside her desk, withdrawing a small brass pin that she placed in front of Rowan. “This is an adventurer’s badge that gives you permission to enter Brass-ranked dungeons throughout the Kalthiminn Alliance. I’ve arranged for you to join a team of third years heading into one this weekend.”

Rowan’s mind went blank for a second as he stared at the badge in front of him. The tiny brass pin was an object he knew well, all street rats knew not to mess with someone wearing an adventurer’s badge, even those made of brass. Now he had one of his own. Staring at the badge, it took a moment for what Kanna had said afterwards to sink in.

“Wait, what?” Rowan sputtered. “I can’t enter a dungeon—I’ll die!”

“Nonsense,” Kanna said airily. “You’re not going in as a vanguard or a slayer; you’re heading in as a porter, which in this case means you’ll be a pack mule. Your only responsibilities will be the carrying of gear and loot for the party, and maybe lending a hand if things get a little dicey.” Kanna mumbled this last part, clearly aware of Rowan’s unwilling expression.

“I’ll. Die,” Rowan reiterated.

“No you won’t,” Kanna replied. “It’s not a dangerous dungeon, and even if it was, this is something you’ll have to do as my apprentice, just as I did for my own master. If you really can’t do it, that’s fine, but there’s no way I’ll take on an apprentice who can’t perform when needed.”

Rowan gritted his teeth at this, but said nothing, silently weighing his options in his mind. On the one hand, having spent a month at Faebrook, it was now painfully obvious to him that he was not on the same level as the other students in terms of combat power. This would obviously be doubly true for third years, which meant he would be of no help whatsoever in the event that things got ‘dicey’ as Kanna had put it.

On the other hand, so long as all he had to do was carry things, he could do that, and Kanna’s assistance had been rather helpful so far, even if it did seem to carry a tendency to add to his workload rather than alleviate it. Plus, he had always wanted to enter a dungeon…

His decision made, Rowan met Kanna’s eye, a knowing glint visible within his potential master’s green orbs. “You’re sure it’s not dangerous?”

“As safe as a dungeon can be,” Kanna promised.

Rowan grabbed the pin from the desk. “What time do they leave?”