“Ha! A rogue. I always liked playing those.”

The three scientists stared at him.

“What? You guys don’t . . .? No, I guess you haven’t invented those kind of games yet.”

“You are familiar with this class, Sergeant?” Hedgefield said.

“Well, yeah. Like I said, I’ve played it before. In fact, that’s what I usually choose in any new RPG. At least to start.”

“What is an RPG? Never mind. We’ll talk about it later. What can you tell us about the class? I’ve never heard of a rogue. And what do the plus, slash and minus signs signify?”

The other two scientists shrugged at his question.

Rip said, “You really don’t know what a rogue is?”

“No, Sergeant. I’ve never heard of this class before. Have either of you gentlemen?”

They shook their heads.

“We shall have to consult the records to see if this class has been discerned before. Also the plus and minus symbols. We process hundred of people a year through the Lyceum for enhancement, and I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Nor three punch cards,” one of the assistants muttered.

“Indeed. Sergeant, if I harbored any doubts regarding your otherworldly origins before, I now fully believe you are . . . not from around here, to put it lightly.”

“It’s unprecedented,” one of the other men said, a note of awe creeping into his voice.

“Inform the king of this development,” Hedgefield said. “Then go to the Lyceum’s library and see if you can find anything on this class and those symbols.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man left again, practically running to deliver the news and begin his research.

“Right. For the next part of the process, we will step into the adjoining room. If you please, Sergeant.”

Hedgefield led him and the remaining scientist through a door. Rip walked into a room that seemed far older than the laboratory. The walls here were made from raw stone. He decided the building must have been erected over this very spot.

In the center, more bare stone rose up in a shape vaguely resembling a seat. Two armrests and a high back formed a natural place to sit down.

“We call this the Philosopher’s Chair. It’s been used for enhancements since ancient times. Who knows what the Picts actually did to activate it. Probably, they waited until the vernal equinox or a thunderstorm or some such. Anyway, over many centuries the Lyceum has perfected techniques we now use. But first, you’ll need to swear fealty to the king. Ah, I see our reception committee approaches.”

A side door opened, and the king walked through. An older woman and Sir Prescott followed him in.

Rip found himself wondering how many side doors and passageways connected these buildings. Then he wondered if the scientist who ran out earlier found the king before he came in this side door.

“Your Majesty.”

The king nodded at Hedgefield then turned to Rip.

“Sergeant, this is Madame Bolton. She oversees the throne’s part of the enhancement process. Ordinarily we do not enhance foreigners, but we are convinced you will make a worthy exception. First, Madame Bolton will administer the oath. Once bound, you will become our subject and we shall proceed.”

Rip nodded.

It’s another world, he thought. Nothing to be worried about. It’s not like it’s treason or anything.

The woman said, “Hold up your right hand. I, state your name, do solemnly swear fealty to King Allo and his successors, and to obey directives from the Greater Umbrian crown or in the crown’s name. I will not bear arms against the crown, and I will serve Greater Umbria to the best of my ability for all my days. So help me, God.”

Rip repeated the words as she paused throughout. When finished, she nodded to the king and stepped out of the way.

An awkward pause followed, until Rip remembered from his reading that he should kneel at this point.

He went down on one knee, placing his hand on his stomach and bowing his head at the same time.

“You may rise,” Allo said. “Sir Prescott, make a note that Sergeant Coulter is hereby naturalized as an Umbrian subject, duly oathbound.”

“I will, Your Majesty. Shall he join the Army? He is a sergeant, after all.”

“No. Let’s allow Baron Swathmore to have him. I reckon he’ll still want Mr. Coulter on his team. Make Sergeant Coulter a member of the Royal Venture Society, by my decree.”

He turned to Rip and said, “And now, we’re off to a session addressing Parliament. We will meet with you again soon, Sergeant. We will send word when we’re ready to hear more of your exploits, in this world and the other.”

Rip gave another bow, a slighter one this time but still respectful. The king and his retinue walked back through the side door. When it closed, Rip could not find any cracks in the wall. Had he not just seen the doorway open, he would never have guessed one was there.

“It is time,” Hedgefield said, nodding toward the stone chair.

Rip walked up to it and sat down, resting his arms on the slightly uneven sides. It felt uncomfortable, rather like sitting on a rock, he thought with a smile.

He heard something behind him, a humming noise that sounded vaguely electrical. The gaslights illuminating the room dimmed, and the whine of metal gears filled the room.

Above him, a diaphragm in the ceiling opened, like a stone iris slowly dilating. Outside air flooded the room. Dark clouds obscured the sky, and a smattering of rain fell through the open ceiling. Everyone ignored it.

Rip heard grinding stone behind him, and turned to look. The back wall slid open and a giant crystal cone the size of a car slowly wheeled into the room, held in place by stone braces. He decided the gears pulling it forward must be hidden under the floor.

The tip of the cone aimed straight for the back of his chair, like a giant ray gun. He tried to get a better look as the gears beneath the floor slowly pulled it closer. Inside the cone, the crystal glowed with purple pulses of light running down its length sparkling off the tip.

“That, uh . . . doesn’t look safe.”

“Sit back and relax, Sergeant,” Hedgefield said. “This procedure has been refined quite well by the Lyceum in recent decades. The purple light acts as a quantifier for concentrated aether, focusing it in your body.”

He walked over to the tabulator and inserted the three cards from the previous room into a slot on the side.

The lights in the cone increased in intensity, flashing and spiraling, casting odd purple and black light shadows throughout the room.

As if in response to the actiions in the room, a streak of lightning lit up the sky above, followed by an immediate rumble of thunder.

“I’m getting a strong Frankensteinish vibe right now.”

“Sorry, I don’t catch the reference. Now, sit tight. We are about to begin.”

With a final clank the giant crystal cone locked into place just behind the great stone chair. The humming picked up in volume. Rip’s eyes grew bigger, and the hair on the back of his head stood up.

He wondered if this was all a mistake . . .

“Turn around and sit up straight, please.”

A bright purple light flashed from the tip of the cone, slamming into the back of Rip’s head. It spread through his whole body and lit up the stone chair in dark purple light.

His arms levitated.

So did his feet.

Every hair on his head stood straight up as a current of . . . something . . . washed through him.