Kaspar Rebane the Fifth entered the dorm proudly declaring he had been made Regent. His chest was puffed up proudly, and while he hadn’t been given the cufflink yet, he had somehow procured a metal pin with the design of the red heart.

He momentarily glanced at Mehdi, but paid no heed to him. And neither did anyone else. It was probably better that way.

Mehdi slowly packed his clothes in preparation for the inevitable dorm move. It was now he realized he was missing one of his Mage uniforms, the one that had been stolen from him during the camping trip. He was also missing all his casual clothes, and his bag had been filled with unfamiliar, unwashed socks.

He was beginning to suspect that he had not been as forgetful as he first thought. Not that it mattered now, it wasn’t like the clothes would fit him anymore, now that his limbs stretched and he was probably the third tallest in the room now.

He would need to ask for more clothes, if he could get them. Or something.

The Mages wasted no time in reorganizing the initiates. By the next day, Mehdi was packed in a new dorm, exclusively full of other Balustrades. He had not wanted to think of how it was called the Gaslamp subcore, but now that he was here, he could see it. No one spoke, no one interacted, and those that did droned on in tones that Mehdi found grating to the ear.

Of course, he could be as rude as he wanted about them, he was one of them. Just like his father.

The thought didn’t even plague him that much once it hit him. This was his life now. At least he had an answer, no matter how underwhelming or frustrating it was. It wasn’t even one he had been against, and while most of the initiates still refused to talk to him (after all, even these Balustrades had been there when he had snitched on Kaspar to A Volterra), there was less of a mocking bite to it, and more of an assumed routine.

So Mehdi received new classes, a new schedule, and after tearing his uniform during a run, better clothes.

Balustrades ran at night, so instead his mornings involved learning about the World of Rites, a place that would hypothetically change how Mehdi dreamed. He didn’t fully understand what it meant, but he figured he would in time.

Eat correctly. March correctly. Clean correctly. Cut your hair. Don’t speak out. Do work. Run. Sleep these hours.

Routine.

Only this time there was no big event looming on the horizon. No fancy test or event to determine his true worth, this was going to be his life for the next four years. Just an endless march of Balustrade Mage training.

There was some good news, his parents were going to visit soon, and they were bringing Ceyda. He missed his family, and seeing Ceyda make a fool of herself and gush over how big the city was would make Mehdi feel a lot better about how mature he was.

Life had been a lot easier when he just had to be better than his sister, hadn’t it. It was this thought that hit him out of the blue, as he waited on line to see if he had gotten any letters. His lunch would be soon, and he wanted to check if his parents had changed the date. Ceyda apparently had brain damage and had a habit of delaying plans by a week or two.

The post office in the base was not very efficient. They only had two Chisels who could read the letters aloud, and those lines were always much, much longer. Mehdi couldn’t read his mother’s handwriting that well, and his father might as well write in some sort of second, secret language. If they just used a typewriter he would be able to understand fairly well, but noooo.

“Mehdi?” a voice from behind called him.

Mehdi whipped around in line to see Barnabus staring back at him, wide grin on his face.

“Barnabus!” Mehdi exclaimed, mirroring the expression and hurting his face from the smile. “What are you here for?”

“Oh, I was just walking by and saw you in line,” Barnabus said. “Waiting for mail?”

“Yeah. Although at this rate I’m going to miss lunch,” Mehdi said.

“You have lunch now?”

“In two minutes, yeah.”

Barnabus tapped his foot and rolled his head back. “I have lunch now too, if you wanna do this later.”

“Volterras eat earlier, I thought,” Mehdi said.

“Yeah but I had to do this special drill because I was falling behind, so they kicked me to the Balustrade period,” Barnabus said, idly scratching at a red spot on his face.

Mehdi glanced at the long line. He didn’t even know if he had mail. Yeah all right.

The two headed towards the mess hall, got food, and sat down in a corner just a bit further away from the Mages who watched them eat. Most of the initiates were crowding around the few Balustrades who had already gotten their cufflinks. Mehdi had not gotten his, and evidently neither had Barnabus. Another initiate tried to spit in Mehd’s food, but he moved out of the way in time.

“So, what have you been up to?” Barnabus asked quietly, straightening his back and staring ahead.

“Meditation, mostly. It was so annoying, yesterday we had this process of like--eight hours of Rites confession. Where we just went over a memory and had to tell it over and over again,” Mehdi explained, keeping his own back straight as well. “We kept having to repeat it at different times in different ways in different tones--it was supposed to cleanse our core entirely?”

“Did it work?”

“Honestly I don’t really feel much of anything these days,” Mehdi replied. “So maybe?”

Barnabus frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah? Yes. I am. I’m not exactly a bubbly personality, unlike yourself,” Mehdi said.

“I’m not bubbly,” Barnabus muttered.

“Sorry,” Mehdi tapped his fork on the table. “I just meant I don’t--I don’t go around prancing my emotions.”

“That sounds worse.”

“Well. I don’t know. I don’t do the things that usually comes with ruminating, positive or negative, so it’s not a big deal to me,” Mehdi said. What a needlessly stressful conversation. Hadn’t he liked talking to Barnabus? It certainly didn’t feel like it now.

Barnabus gave a small, lazy wave. “It’s fine, I just don’t want you totally retreating, you know? We’re supposed to keep clean minds but if you aren’t happy then you won’t work.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I dunno,” Mehdi frowned as he idly chewed his bland food. “I don’t really need to enjoy what I do. I’d just like it to be unobtrusive.”

“You sound like a Pillar,” Barnabus said quietly.

Mehdi nearly dropped his fork in shock. “...excuse me?”

“No! No! Sh--” Barnabus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and calmly chewed his food. “I don’t mean that as an insult. I just meant--you know. Content from working, that’s usually how they describe the ideal Pillar.”

Mehdi stared at Barnabus in annoyance. He wanted to get mad or walk away, but to be fair, he had also been a bit rude to Barnabus sheer moments before, so this was probably his fault. His miasma had unbalanced the conversation. And now he had ruminations of blaming Barnabus.

“I’m not, obviously,” Mehdi said quietly.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Barnabus mumbled, as he scratched his skin underneath his sleeves.

The two ate in silence. Mehdi didn’t want to make eye contact, so he stared at the table instead. Small phrases were written on it, which Mehdi decided to focus on translating. One was just the word “erect penis” written ten times in a row. Another was a curse word. The rest were nonsensical rumors and accusations about how Quolle had a small nose, how one of the running coaches did drugs, or how Towcard was addicted to indecent material.

“...hey, Mehdi,” Barnabus said. “Just so you know, I don’t… I don’t see being a Pillar as an insult. I know you do. But I don’t. Just. Fundamentally.”

“Well, if it helps, I don’t see calling you bubbly as an insult either,” Mehdi said.

Barnabus grinned. “That’s fair.”

“You’re gonna make a great Volterra,” Mehdi continued. “You’re short and unassuming, but you’ll be able to fight any guy who gets in your way without them even noticing you.”

“Who would I even be fighting like that?” Barnabus asked. “We’ve been training to fight--Pillars who want to destroy dams. They’re not going to underestimate me if I’m wearing the uniform.”

“Uhhhh, the stuck up Regents who think they’re better than you?” Mehdi suggested.

“Hah. Yeah. Probably,” Barnabus sighed.

“There was this one Mage in Bricketfriar who robbed the Blanches--a super powerful family. So I guess we might have to fight Mages too,” Mehdi continued.

“That’s terrifying.”

“I, for one, am looking forward to doing paperwork,” Mehdi said.

“Balustrades are trained in combat like everyone else,” Barnabus countered.

“Sure, but everyone else has to learn spells. We’re just given a wand and told to aim and speak, it’s great,” Mehdi grinned. “What’s Volterra training like?”

“Exhausting. I want to die every waking moment and fear that if I did they would find a way to raise my corpse to continue working into infinity,” Barnabus deadpanned.

Mehdi didn’t know how to respond to such a statement.

“That’s quite the rumination,” he finally said, after a full minute of awkward chewing.

“Yeah. It’s probably temporary. Probably.”

“Please don’t get a heart attack and die because you keep thinking about death,” Mehdi said sternly.

“Yeah. Yeah…” Barnabus’ eyes went unfocused, and the two stopped talking. Mehdi didn’t know if he said something wrong, or if the conversation had just hit its natural end point, but they did need to eat.

The two continued, and to some extent, it was actually fairly pleasant. Mehdi had forgotten that Barnabus was still quite tolerable, even when quiet. There was no feeling or need to keep the conversation going, the two had nothing left to say, so they were going to stop. It was nice.

He cleared his tray, and tapped his fork a few more times, trying to scrape the last scraps of food and shove them into his mouth until dinner.

“Question,” Barnabus stated, his mouth screwed in concentration, as he gnawed on his own lip.

Mehdi gave a small grunt of acknowledgment.

“Do you ever wonder about how many people work in this building while we train?” Barnabus asked.

Mehdi chewed on his lip slightly. “You know I can’t say--”

There was a flash of green light in the center of the mess hall, the doors flinging open from the force. The din immediately quieted and the Mages jumped to attention.

A Mage appeared with a leather trunk. He wasn’t wearing the overcoat, just a torn and bloodied black vest, white shirt, and black pants. Cracked sunglasses framed his face, and a shock of white hair.

He looked familiar. Mehdi looked for the cufflink--something red. Balustrade or Regent. And since he teleported, Regent.

“Delivery,” the Regent snarled, slamming his hand down on the trunk as it moved up and down.

“...Rembrandt,” a Mage said slowly. “What’s in the trunk?”

“A dangerous antiquity of unstable proportions that I commandeered from Gabriel Blanche. He might be suing us for unlawful grabbings. I told him to go fuck himself,” Rembrandt continued slowly.

Oh, this was that Regent who had offered to help him.

The trunk started to vibrate, and Rembrandt slammed his fist down on it yet again, quieting it.

“Everyone, leave the mess hall!” one of the Mages ordered.

“Where is he?” Rembrandt snarled. “Where’s the traitorous bastard?”

“Rembrandt where’s the rest of your squad--”

“--on the fucking train! They’ll be here tomorrow. Where the fuck is Tower Cardinal, I’m going to kill him--”

“Rembrandt you’re being miasmic, halt these ramblings--I said keep moving!”

Mehdi blinked as the Mage turned to yell at him. Right. He had to file out. But he so sorely wanted to know what had happened to Rembrandt.

Rembrandt flicked his sunglasses down, revealing two irises, and stared directly at Mehdi.

Mehdi froze, not knowing if the Mage wanted to say something. Instead Rembrandt just kept staring at him, his eyes narrow in intensity.

“Mehdi--” Barnabus pleaded, grabbing his hand, as he tried to drag him back. Barnabus’ hand was flaky, no doubt from all the rashes he developed from picking at his own skin. Mehdi gripped his hand tightly, but did not move.

“You! Balustrade! I’m talking to you! Move your ass!” the Mage yelled.

Rembrandt snorted. “Balustrade huh?”

And with that, he turned away, as if Mehdi had never existed.

Barnabus dragged Mehdi away.

Outside of the mess hall, the Balustrades and nearby initiates were yelling excitedly as the news travelled. No doubt it would be the talk of the town within the hour.

“That was so weird,” Barnabus rasped.

“That was the Mage from Bricketfriar,” Mehdi said.

Barnabus stared at him in confusion. “He was hired for Adreday, and he was supposed to escort me to Nevan, but he stayed behind to fight that Mage I told you about.”

“Holy shit,” Barnabus whispered.

“Yeah. Holy crap,” Mehdi agreed, his voice even quieter than Barnabus.

Mages started to come in, telling people to get away from the mess hall doors. They were to go directly to their dorms and wait.

Mehdi didn’t want to leave, he wanted to know what happened to Bricketfriar. So he stood to the side, trying to inconspicuously tie his shoe. His elaborate scheme did not work, and he was quickly grabbed by a Mage.

“Don’t fucking open it--” Rembrandt’s voice cut through the mess hall and the surrounding room.

There was an explosive noise, and yells from outside.

Mehdi raced outside, but tripped over his own feet and faceplanted into the ground. Cursing inwardly, he got up, rubbed his sore palms, and staggered outside. Barnabus was out there, and he pointed to the building in horror.

“Holy shit,” Barnabus said quietly.

Mehdi turned and saw the scene unfolding.

Hovering above the base was a black box, spinning rapidly. Mages pointed at it, freezing it in place with magic. The box glowed a brilliant red, shattering whatever sort of magical prison they had concocted, and in the bright, clear sky day, lightning crashed down, and the sound reverberated across the crowd.

“Holy shit,” Mehdi rasped in agreement, much louder this time.

“Attention Initiates. Return to your bunks. This is not a drill!” Loud angry voices echoed across the plaza, and Mehdi watched as flashes of green light scattered across the rooftop revealed dozens and dozens of teleporting mages, all joining in to contain the thing Rembrandt called an antiquity.

“Come on.” Barnabus grabbed his sleeve, and the two headed towards the Balustrade dorms. To Mehdi’s surprise, Barnabus turned a corner, and crammed them both in the nearby bathroom.

“This is--sacred skies this is crazy!” Barnabus said.

“I know!” Mehdi looked around nervously. “And that thing was in my town? Owned by the Blanche family? I don’t--wow.”

“And he wants to do something bad to Towcard!” Barnabus continued.

“What do you mean?”

“He asked about Tower Cardinal, remember?” Barnabus said. “That’s Towcard.”

Towcard. TowCard. Tower. Cardinal.

Ohhhh.

That answered one question, but somehow raised an equally baffling one.

“We could go down there--like to medical. Towcard gives me creams for my rashes,” Barnabus said brightly. “Or we could like--pretend we got in a fight and needed to be patched up.”

Mehdi swallowed dryly. That sounded. Very. Very tempting. But also, absolutely not.

“Barnabus we could get in huge trouble.”

“What are they gonna do? Kick us out of Mage school?”

“...yes!”

Barnabus raised his hands in annoyance. “You were pushed down a hill, nearly naked, in a barrel! And no one got expelled for that!”

“Yeah but that’s because I didn’t say anything,” Mehdi grumbled, his face hot.

“Right! So--look. We just say we fell--do you want me to punch you? Will you do this if I break your nose? Because I will absolutely volunteer and do it. As a friend,” Barnabus snapped, staring at Mehdi with a passionate intensity.

Mehdi had never been asked if he wanted to be punched in the nose before. He didn’t know how he felt about it, and frankly it made everything far more stressful.

“I--I already tripped on the way of running from the mess hall,” Mehdi slowly admitted. “I don’t need to be punched.”

“So we can go? We can go find out what’s going on in medical?” Barnabus asked.

“No I’m not--” Mehdi stared at Barnabus, unable to look away from his eager eyes and near dangerous expression.

He was almost afraid to say no.

“Fine.”

“Yessss.”

“You need to work on your miasma.”

Barnabus did not respond, and instead was already barreling towards the medical wing. Mehdi trudged after him, hating every step. This was a bad idea. This was breaking the rules. This was going to get them both under intense supervision. They could be expelled.

And Barnabus just. Did not care.

No. Not just Barnabus. No one in this whole hecking school! They all broke the rules! Constantly! Why did he have to be the only good kid? He always was! At home, and now here, and apparently no one cared!

The only one who had cared was his Ritesgiver, Tomas, who had delightfully lied to him and told him he was a mage with strong potential, and here he was, an unimpressive Balustrade so lacking of note that when something did come up related to him, he had utterly failed to rise to the occasion.

With all the Mages heading to the mess hall, sneaking to medical was shockingly easy. Down the stairs. Through the twisting hallway, and then to the door of the one and only Doctor Michel Bisset, also named Tower Cardinal, also named Towcard. What a mouthful.

Barnabus knocked on the door frantically. The dog from inside started barking frantically.

Towcard answered, yawning. “What can I do for you two?”

“I lost the rash cream you gave me,” Barnabus said, walking in. “And I think it’s getting worse.”

“Ah--and you? Just here to escort your friend?” Towcard asked, glancing at Mehdi.

Mehdi stared at Towcard in baleful annoyance. “I fell.”

Towcard’s subtle smile vanished. “I see.”

There were already people inside medical. A small and frail Chatelaine in the waiting area, accompanied with a Mage who was most likely her husband, two initiates in beds, passed out, and another Mage who was sitting on a bed, staring intently at a mirror as he fiddled with his hair. Mehdi glanced down at his cufflink on his folded jacket and saw he was a Regent. He looked back up at the Regent and saw that the front of his hair was stark white.

“Barnabus take a seat, Mehdi take a bed,” Towcard instructed.

Jes the dog lazily trotted over to Barnabus and rested its head on Barnabus’ leg.

Barnabus immediately lit up, and started petting the dog affectionately, taking care to not brush over the exposed bone.

“She likes you,” Mehdi said.

“Yeah, well, I’m in here at least once a week,” Barnabus said.

“Once a week?” Mehdi stared at Barnabus in confusion.

Barnabus shrugged, mumbled unintelligibly, and returned to petting the dog.

“By the way,” Towcard said, as he returned with a small jar of ointment, which he handed to Barnabus. “Do either of you know why there was yelling up above? I haven’t bothered to check yet.”

“Doctor Bisset,” the Mage in the waiting room called. “Do you have the results or not?”

“Yes, hang on, just a moment! Could I perhaps speak to your wife in private?”

“Absolutely not,” the Mage narrowed his eyes.

Towcard sighed. “Then it will be a few moments longer!”

“Someone brought something called an antiquity to the mess hall,” Barnabus said excitedly. “It’s currently floating over the mess hall building!”

“Someone brought a what!?” the Regent yelled. He dropped the mirror and teleported out of the room in a snap of light.

The Mage with his wife also violently cursed, stood up, and ran out of medical, slamming the door behind him.

Towcard gave a mad cackle and staggered over to the Mage’s wife, clapping his hands in glee. “You, come into my office, I have such things to discuss with you!”

The Chatelaine blinked in slow, stuttering confusion, as if she couldn’t understand the words Towcard was saying. Towcard extended his hand, very eagerly, whilst gesturing to the back room.

“Come along, come along, I assure you I have many wondrous things to show you,” Towcard said, his eyes sparkling. Mehdi didn’t know if it was endearing or disturbing.

“We should probably wait for my husband to return,” the Chatelaine said stiffly.

Towcard sighed, slumped his hands downwards, and pushed back his long hair out of his face. “Very well. I assume it will be a while, from what I know, antiquities are fickle things. Which idiot brought it in anyway?”

“A Mage named Rembrandt,” Mehdi supplied. “Do you know him?”

Towcard snorted. “Yeah, I know him.”

It was a very dismissive noise. Mehdi and Barnabus exchanged glances. The unspoken reality hung in the air of whether to warn the doctor or not of Rembrandt’s rage.

Towcard clicked his tongue idly to himself. “Ma’am, can you read?”

“What--why?” the Chatelaine frowned.

“Because I have a book that might interest you while you wait,” Towcard continued, scrambling over to a shelf.

“Uh--Towcard,” Mehdi tried to interrupt, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s about a young mother and her many, many children,” Towcard said, pulling out a thin, musty book. “Perhaps you will find it soothing.”

“--Towcard--” Mehdi tried again.

The Chatelaine took the book, glaring at Towcard in annoyance. She said nothing, but idly opened the pages and glanced at the images.

“As a doctor, I have had to read many books,” Towcard continued. “If you wish to discuss it afterwards, let me know.”

“Towcard!” Barnabus cut in, his voice carrying across the room.

“Yes! What!” Towcard shouted back, putting his hands on his hips.

Barnabus and Mehdi glanced at each other again.

“How well do you know Rembrandt, exactly?” Barnabus said.

“Depressingly well, I regret to say.”

“Is he the type of guy to uh… jokingly yell threats in public?” Barnabus continued.

Towcard blinked a few times in confusion. “The man’s full of more hot air than a furnace, but I wouldn’t exactly call them ‘jokes’, why?”

“Um--well--”

“Cardinal, you lying son of a bitch!”

Rembrand’s angry yell rang throughout medical, despite easily being all the way down the hallway. Jes bounded away from Barnabus, whimpering and scampering away to hide.

Towcard stared at the door to the outside in horror, his eyes widened, and his stance frozen in place. “Ah.”