After scampering away from the booth where Benjamin was frantically packing whatever things he had on him, Quinn found Meyron at a booth selling traveling items. She was loading up on rations and a couple extra water skins, which reminded her of the coin she found on the bounty hunter and her destroyed clothes.

“There you are,” said Meyron. She hadn’t turned around or seen Quinn approach. “Here, this man here will take your sad excuse for clothing and you’ll have room for more rations.” The man gave Meyron an odd look, but didn’t refuse her. “We can find you clothes somewhere in this city. And to be frank, even if they were in decent condition I couldn’t allow you to be seen with me in that.” She gestured to all of Quinn, and went back to stuffing her bag. A fair assessment.

“I think Benjamin will be right on our heels,” Quinn said and started pulling her bloodied and soiled clothes from her pack.

“Good.” Meyron didn’t sound any different, but her shoulders appeared less tight. Questions whirred around in her mind and knew it would have to wait until they reached the Tilted Moon. Meyron was clearly a talented and advanced necromancer, knew enough about the Academy to talk about it like it was nothing, and had some kind of access to the headmaster’s office. Assuming what she said about the applications was true. They certainly looked mangled enough to have come out of a waste bin.

They left the merchant with lower stock, a hefty sack of coin and discarded items he would likely have to dispose of and headed deeper into the city. It didn’t seem to matter where in the maze of streets and alleys they went it was milling with people. Sometimes only a few and all on foot, and sometimes at a near standstill if they weaved too close to the Market Square.

Quinn had long since lost her sense of direction by the time Meyron stopped in front of a sturdy building with three floors. A wooden sign carved with a crescent moon and stars and the name “The Tilted Moon” hung from a post jutting from the wall, and it looked cozy and inviting inside.

“Play along,” said Meyron, and without any further direction she marched inside like she owned the place. Well, she always walked that way now that Quinn thought about it.

“Mage Meyron the Black!” A loud, booming voice carried over the din of conversation in the common room and it fell quiet. “Always a pleasure to serve one of the Pinnacles of the Academy at my inn, please, make yourself at home, dear.” Once everyone got a good look at Meyron, they continued their talks, though quieter than before.

The voice did not match the man - nay, woman - that stepped out from behind the bar. She was quite beautiful, dressed in muted colors in the most recent fashion, and her hair drawn up in a bun that was meant to be messy and carefree, but looked meticulously put together on her. It was easy to ignore the barely visible stubble on her face and the depth of her voice.

“And it’s always a pleasure to stay, Madam Karliah,” said Meyron and gave her a deep nod. The innkeeper gestured to Quinn in askance.

“An apprentice?” she asked. “It’s been quite some time since you’ve had one of those.”

“Yes, this is Quinn,” said Meyron without missing a beat. “Not many applicants to my program these days. It’s a shame. I’ve taken to searching them out myself. Another is coming later, a farmer boy named Benjamin. See to it he’s taken care of if he arrives while we’re out.”

“Of course,” said Karliah with a wave of her hand. “Now, you must be famished. Please, sit! She looks like she’s all skin and bones, don’t you feed your students, Meyron?” It wasn’t a request but a demand, and Karliah sat both of them down at a secluded table set away from the rest. As soon as the innkeeper walked away Quinn fixed Meyron with a stare.

“Pinnacle of the Academy?” she asked, and Meyron flapped a hand.

“I’ll explain later.”

Quinn pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. To be fair, she did decide to follow the woman after she was shot out of the sky in her dragon form, healed herself, and then paraded around with a sense of superiority Quinn had never seen before.

In short order a plate heaped with chicken pie and gravy steamed in front of her and Quinn’s mouth watered. Two pints of ale followed and the innkeeper went to tend to the rest of her patrons, and made sure they knew to call for her if they needed anything else. They ate in silence, and Meyron kept shooting looks over to her left. The only thing over there was an empty barrel tipped on its side and ready to be rolled out into the back. Her mouth twitched like she wanted to speak, but became aware that Quinn was there, and didn’t.

Meyron closed her eyes for a solid minute, and then let out a long and wearied sigh.

“Technically speaking, I am still a Pinnacle at the Academy of Mages,” Meyron said finally. She scooped up the last of her pie and shoved it in her mouth. “I wasn’t lying to you when I said I could teach you necromancy.” Her eyes looked over to the left again, but the barrel still sat there, empty and non-threatening.

“Technically?” Quinn asked.

“I left,” she said. “The headmaster has been throwing away my potential students for months, likely years. I only caught him in the act recently. He doesn’t want necromancy at the Academy, that much is clear given his personal stance and experience in the Great War. Something has made him bolder; I intend to find out what that is, but first I need students.”

“Why?”

“Once they realize I’m gone for good and not just throwing a tantrum, they’ll send people after me to eliminate me,” said Meryon as she rolled her eyes. “So if by some slim chance they manage to kill me off, they don’t kill off necromancy with me.”

Quinn stared at her. She had been in Rainon for mere days with the intention to get into the Academy to learn how to use her power, and happened to run into the woman who would’ve done so. Things had been awfully strange since her run-in with mages, beginning with Mage Xander, if that was truly his name. Something felt off. It felt too lucky.

“You mentioned there were five applications. Is everyone here in the Capital?” Quinn asked, and Meyron’s mouth twitched up into a smirk.

“I’m glad you’re on board,” she said. “I thought I’d have to do all the gathering by myself. Fortunate that you were in the right place at the right time. You’d have been misusing your power forever if it hadn’t been for our chance meeting.

“Five in total, and two of them are right here in the city. The first we’ve already met, Benjamin Eldeman. Next will be a bit tricky, and we’ll have to head to the palace. Lady Tellmar isn’t the most high-standing lady in court, but she’s in court nonetheless for another several weeks until she winters in Lorin. She can deny seeing us in Lorin, but it’s open game as long as she’s a guest at court.

“Another two are in Lorin, and sort of a package deal considering they are twins. The last one might be a joke, and it’ll take time to figure out his exact location but considering he’s a Druid it’s worth looking into. They hate the Academy. At the very least we might get an interesting family feud out of the deal. If they don’t kill us when we set foot on their lands, that is.”

Quinn nodded slowly through Meyron’s explanation and loose plan. It seemed straightforward enough.

“What are the scrolls about?” she asked.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” said Meyron, and then drained her ale. “Are you finished? Good, we should commission new clothes for you as soon as--”

The door to the inn flew open and rebounded off the wooden wall with a loud thud that drew all eyes to the young man who was responsible. Benjamin, panting and holding a pack too small for his frame, stood in the doorway.

“I came as fast as I could,” he said without any greeting and pulled up a chair to sit with them at the table. “My father’s hired farmhand showed up at the perfect time and I left him with a note so he wouldn’t worry too much.” He raised his nose in the air and sniffed. “Is that chicken pie? Is there more?” Meyron’s smile was so big it split her face in half.