It was the weirdest, most frustrating, and best shopping spree Mary had ever been on. It wasn’t that impressive, to be honest - she hadn’t done much of those, since her orphanage didn’t have that much of a budget per child. Still, she strongly suspected that it would feel similarly even to someone with regular expectations. Most parents sending their children to a new school didn’t consider pocket antiseptic sprays, pocket knives, or even car extinguishers necessary. Or, so Mary thought, at least. None of the passersby seemed to carry one in their pockets when they brushed past her, at least as far as she could tell.

“But, you’ve said that the Brutus Saint’s academy doesn’t have uniforms. That means I’ll need some new clothes or others…,” Mary trailed off, looking through the thin, glass pane, separating her from the coolest dress she had ever seen. It was a normal shop in a normal mall. The dress wasn’t abnormal either - the river of people going by it ran uninterrupted apart from her. But for Mary, it was something more - she didn’t have much contact with ‘normal’ in her life so far, and this window seemed like peeking inside a crystal ball and seeing another world. Unfortunately, the reflection of SJW floating above her shoulder interfered with the illusion a bit.

Bromman raised an eyebrow. “Or others what?”

“Well, they’ll… look down on me from the start,” she mumbled. She had enough of it every time she left the orphanage, and the perspective of starting in a new environment like that didn’t seem too appealing.

“Is that so?” her mentor asked. “And is that how you look on me?”

Mary paused. The first time she saw Bromman, he wasn’t exactly making a great impression, with his stained, tweed jacket, worn trousers and mudded shoes. But after barely a day, she realised how much more there had to be behind this sight.

Bored of waiting for her answer, Bromman continued, “Listen now, when you arrive at the academy, yes, you’re right, there will be others that will be packing shining clothes and needlessly sparking gadgets. Some will probably think themselves better for it, though it is one of the greatest puzzles I have yet encountered as to why.”

He shook his head. “Others will think highly of themselves because of how glorious their prophecies are. Ignore those just as well. It doesn’t matter what’s foretold about one’s fate that makes a man. Only around half of the prophecies end up exactly as prophesized anyway, and then half of that manage to do so only on technicalities.”

“It’s the actions people take, not what was done to them, that counts. Stick to people that think likewise - they usually end up scarred but happy in the end,” Bromman finished.

Mary thought about it for a moment, and had to admit that it did match what she’d read in her books. The time spent in that chair-shaped insult to a well-meaning tree that was sacrificed in its creation seemed like ages ago, not days. Still…

“Then why didn’t you want to mentor a veich? And what did Key mean about your track record?” Mary asked.

Bromman stared at her silently for a few seconds - his eyes stopped darting sideways in search of whatever it was he was looking for. Then, he twisted his lips into a poorly performed parody of a smile. “Well, well, with those ears of yours, you may want to consider joining the bards’ circle in the academy. Though be careful if you do, there is usually a that guy or two with a bad taste in pranks….”

Mary let the silence continue reigning, and eventually, the man sighed. “I know how it probably came off, and I am sorry for that. I truly am. However, I don’t think you understand. Granted, having a type C prophecy isn’t the most prestigious role in this brilliantly considered and well-thought-out piece of society, you won’t be fawned over like one of the Chosen Ones, but it’s far from worse. Most of you don’t come into direct danger for years, if at all, and almost none are pushed into it directly. Then, there are the type Os, that are supposedly doomed.”

He kicked a stone that really should have known better. “I don’t buy into that crap. Still, despite the common lack of faith in their survival, when one of them dies, or worse - changes sides, it is blamed on the mentor just the same.” He sighed again. “It’s not like I wouldn’t blame myself anyway.” Another stone went flying down the street and into a drain cover. “But after my last failure, I lost the privilege to choose my own students. And there aren’t that many others who volunteer to help those that need it the most.”

He was right, it wasn’t what Mary expected. Nevertheless, it hurt a little. She wanted to be actually wanted, if just this one time…

“Anyway,” he said in his more usual, less sombre tone, ”we should focus on the useful stuff, like a set of knives and a cell phone.”

Mary nodded silently, and Bromman’s expression softened a bit. “Tell you what, if we have time by the end of the day, I guess you could use one more set of spare clothing... Nothing too fancy, mind you - we’re close to the end of today’s budget, and the emergency flares’ prices went up again. I wished it was the quality that went up, but that would be a first....”

They did find the time, and when Mary carried her newly acquired backpack to her motel room, her new blue jeans and dark top were the first things she took out. They slept in a different place today, but it had a lot in common with the previous one.

Mary went through all the weird stuff her mentor had bought her once more, and she started to worry. Granted, it was quite possible that Bromman was simply paranoid. He did look at shadows a bit too suspiciously for her not to find it suspicious. Still, if half of what he told her was true, it probably served him right in the past.

She tried to imagine how it would be to lie here, on this same motel bed, if her prophecy said she was doomed. She wished she had written the bloody thing down, anyway… but instead of notes, all she got from that office was a money-sucking mosquito.

Mary looked at her cell phone to check whether she remembered the phone numbers she got from Bromman’s correctly. He made her memorise three of them, just in case. Sure, they were saved in her cell phone, but as he pointed out, it wasn’t too reliable in adventuring conditions. There was also the usual chance that it would simply break down on its own, like any other piece of technology - but she was still grateful to have it. It wasn’t a smartphone, unfortunately, just a regular cell phone - her mentor claimed he saw one of those break just from someone looking at it, and though it was probably an exaggeration, she couldn’t really disagree about the point.

Tomorrow, they'd be going to the academy - Bromman explained that it didn’t run with the usual semesters year division, since the prophecies weren’t too random for all to come out during the holidays. Tomorrow, her new life would fully start. She felt both hopeful and stressed at the same time, but most of all - lonely. She wasn't too close with anyone back at home, but... She knew some people there, at least. In the academy? She'd start fresh.

Author Muchmighty allow, that her first day in the new school would go better than yesterday...