Entering the fourth layer was like stepping into an entirely different world. Mount Arcadia took on a deep red hue here, with black and metallic yellow streaks breaking it up. Wide streets were magically shaped into the plateau and tall mansions of different styles dominated the area, with few people on foot or even riding mere horses. Nobles from across the Empire staked their claim here, representing their Kingdom’s interests, and with such diversity of people came a diversity of servants and beasts.

The Imperial Guard had a minimal presence here, the nobles instead allowed to rely on their own personal guardsmen for protection of their property. A few of the more powerful nobles relied upon constructs and automatons, with looming gargoyles favoured by Zothirians, stone lions by Veyeirans, and bizarre clock-work knights by Ionians. Aethercyte glittered on all of them, powering their existence and often offering additional abilities beyond brute force.

But many of the noble houses still relied on living beings. Lythranian compounds were stalked by tamed beasts and alchemical monstrosities, while the few Kelahkese and Ashan residences Shaya managed to see were guarded by elementals. More common still were guards garbed in the myriad colours of each noble house and bearing armaments that put Shaya to shame. Even these guards, however, all appeared to be nephilim. Likely low born nobles and knights serving their masters, with the occasional bastard child mixed in but never acknowledged.

I think I might be the only one here without two or more drops of divine blood.

When she and Rel had done her final job here, she didn’t remember this level of extravagance. Now, Zothirians rode pegasi, Lythranians their broken and tamed drakes, and Shaya even spotted one Kelahkese noble riding a gryphon. The full-grown gryphon screeched as a drake flew too close to it, the drake and their rider veering away from the dominant predator to give it space. Quill emitted a loud screech in response and the larger gryphon’s head turned towards Shaya’s carriage before its rider reined it in.

The carriage passed through the gates of the fifth layer after another checkpoint and minutes later pulled up to an enormous, walled complex. Even with each plateau shrinking in size, the complex was huge, roughly the size of Olin – a duchy’s capital city and bustling center of trade – and that’s just what Shaya could see from the side of the bend, she had no idea how much further it extended around the ring. Towering walls of smooth, pure white stone traveled to the plateau’s edge, standing in stark contrast to the mountain’s red. Veins of silvery-blue metal ran the entire length of the walls, magically shaped into runes that Shaya couldn’t identify.

Yet, she thought to herself as she got out of the carriage, Quill following closely behind. Thank the gods the rain stopped, I might need another day just to wander the campus.

Slinging her pack over her shoulder again, she flicked another electrum to the driver and approached the Academy’s gates. Shaya swore that the gates were so large that a Titan could have walked through them without ducking, if the guards were inclined to allow them. The gates were of the same silvery-blue metal as the veins in the walls, runes of their own embedded in them in the form of crushed Amber aethercyte. Towers flanked the gates, each one topped with a glowing Ruby aethercyte the size of a wagon instead of a normal siege weapon, and before each tower stood a ten-foot golem crafted of stone and sculpted to appear as animated platemail, including filigree and the Academy’s crest on each breastplate. Their aethercyte cores were buried within their chests, but Ruby aethercyte was embedded in each helm’s visor and suggested even more lethality, much like the constructs found within the noble district.

Just scaled up, she thought to herself, this place puts everything I saw up to this point to shame.

Weird the golems only have two arms though. It would be WAY cooler if they had four arms.

Lost amidst the splendour and dangers were two bored looking guards in bronze armour and the Academy’s teal livery. She and Quill walked up to them, eying the defenses around them warily in case one of the golems got twitchy and tried to incinerate them by accident. While the golems watched her approach, one of the guards gave her a casual wave and held out her hand as Shaya approached. “Letter first, then I’ll give you your bearings, cadet.”

Shaya handed her letter over again, wondering if that’s what she’d be doing all day. The guardswoman scanned it and handed it back to Shaya. “Welcome to the Imperial War Academy,” she said, giving Shaya an appraising look, “you’re a bit later than we usually like to see our cadets report, but we’ll give you a pass given where you came from.”

“Thanks,” Shaya said, not really meaning it.

“Your first stop is the administrative wing, where you’ll need to register your presence, fill out more paperwork than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and then get sanctioned.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the west side of the complex, “You can’t miss the building you’re looking for, regardless of where you came from. It’s the giant one surrounded by statues commemorating our fallen heroes. Walk up the path flanked by the largest statues, enter through the double doors, and the front desk will get you sorted.

“You’ll receive further instructions then. Any questions?”

Shaya tried not to gawk at everything, she didn’t want to look like the bumpkin she was, but there was one question she had to ask, “Is all that silvery-blue metal...mythrite?”

The woman rolled her eyes as she sighed, likely having answered the question a dozen times in the past day, or maybe even hour. “Yes cadet, the door in front of you is worth more than your entire kingdom. Any pertinent questions?”

“No Serra,” Shaya replied, bringing her eyes back to the guardswoman. “I’m off to the administrative building on the west side of the complex, signing my life away in blood, then doing whatever I’m told to do next.”

Smirking, the woman replied, “You might want to rein in that tongue of yours, cadet, then you might just make it. Best of luck.”

“Thanks.” This time Shaya meant it.

Rather than open in their entirety, a small giant-sized door built into one of the greater mythrite gates swung open for Shaya, admitting her to the Academy. With a deep breath to steel her excited nerves, she picked up Quill and stepped through. It shut behind her and she realized that no one on either side of the door had opened or closed it physically.

I wonder if I’m ever going to get used to this.

Shaya looked around the sprawling campus and walked towards the administrative wing, still doing her best to stop gawking. Huge stone spires, some climbing at least a hundred feet into the air, erupted in locations around campus. Parts of the mountain were transmuted to hold dirt and soil, with parks full of exotic plants from across the empire adding much needed greenery and a bouquet of rich scents. There were squat bunkers similar to Olin’s Alchemical Academy, where she imagined mages practicing explosive fireballs and conjuring powerful spirits. A number of glass domes dotted the campus as well, each one containing a different type of terrain and the animals that might call it their home.

Don’t look like a tourist! She willed, but failed.

Nephilim wandered the campus, almost as far as the eye could see. They moved about in small groups or individually, accompanied by familiars, animal companions and personal constructs. Some carried stacks of books, others bore heavy arms and armour, and very few looked like Shaya did.

They didn’t fail to notice that.

Their words reached her like the susurration of a river.

“Is she a mortal? Who let their servant off a leash?”

“What’s a mongrel doing here? I didn’t realize our standards had dropped.”

“Are those Kelahk colours? Do they even teach literacy out there?”

These words and more battered at her as she traversed the campus, her blood simmering at the insults, but she acknowledged how they made her feel and let them go, like water under the bridge.

I’ll show them up soon enough, she promised, I’ll work harder than any of them and exceed them before they even know what hit them.

I wonder if Krebo would count that as motivation...

After a quarter hour of walking, Shaya finally made it onto the path of the fallen the guardswoman had mentioned. Larger than life statues stood on each side, depicting one of the Empire’s fallen heroes in full colour to breathe life into them and highlight their family ties. The stone pedestals they stood upon held plaques that bore the person’s name and a short description of why they were immortalized here.

At the head of the statues was Serra Mikaelix, first knight of the Arcadian Empire and namesake for all those who held that rank since. Though shorter than many of the other heroic statues, Serra’s drew the eye for being sculpted from marble, with its long hair sculpted from enough mythrite to forge a suit of armour. She wore a functional panoply forged of bronze atop white robes – setting an aesthetic trend many of the Empire's Orders still follow to this day.

I’ll have to come back here later, when I have time to read some of the-

Shaya paused, looking up at one of the statues. The muscular, armoured woman had her crystalline sword raised high, shield ready at her side. Voluminous, golden hair was pulled back into a pony tail that flowed down the statue’s back. It looked exactly like Shaya’s Esper, though lacking the feathered wings, and looked even more alien to Shaya than her Esper had.

The plaque was simple:

Phaedra Amon

A beacon of hope to banish the darkness

Defender

Unifier

Hero

I hope I can live up to your expectations, mom.

The administrative building loomed over her, and Shaya entered it without looking back. The musty, vaulted chamber was filled with the sounds of quills scratching against paper and pages being turned, a veritable army of scribes working away at desks everywhere Shaya looked. Every wall was lined with shelves filled with leather tomes, with yet more people scurrying about to take or place books from those shelves on foot or by the use of flight spells. Chandeliers kept the room lit while giving a sense of refinement to the room, but globes of light floated about each person as well to offer greater illumination and spare them from at least a small amount of eye strain.

The waiting area was empty, so Shaya approached the front desk where the registrar was busy writing – two animated quills mirroring her writing on different sheets of paper, floating hands waiting to turn the sheets as needed. She waited a few seconds for the registrar to notice her, then cleared her throat when nothing happened.

The woman glanced up at her and then went back to writing. “I’ve told you lot a dozen times, servant’s entrance is to the side. Register your deliveries there.”

Shaya set Quill down and patted them on the head. Pulling out her letter, she stepped forward and placed it on the registrar’s desk. When they ignored her and kept writing, Shaya slid the letter over the document the registrar was writing on, interrupting her mid-word. The woman sputtered as she glared up at Shaya, ignoring the letter entirely, and snapped, “Do you have any idea how busy I am?”

“Serra Shaya Heirosoth, reporting to the registrar as instructed.” Shaya replied, wielding her stiff and formal tone like a bat to beat the woman over the head with. “Register me.”

The woman’s iron-grey eyes traveled up and down Shaya’s disheveled, wounded body, conveying all the derision she felt on her walk through campus without a single word. The clerk reviewed her letter, looking at the front and back of it, then holding it up to her personal globe of light. She scratched at the blood stain on it from when Shaya first opened the letter and rubbed at the wear and tear on it, frowning the entire time. Concluding that this wasn’t the most elaborate, suicidal plot one could conceive of, she took out a stack of paperwork and a crystalline dagger.

“Alright,” she sniffed in resignation, “oath first.”

Shaya gritted her teeth, forcing her fists to unclench before her claws drew blood.