Aki

Closing in on the city was like riding waves of wonder, each surge dwarfing the one before.

Ships announced The Academy. The first of them fascinated me, its synchronized oars shifting back and forth like the legs of an insect, its tall masts and fat sails stretching into the sky and daring to catch the wind. But then I saw a second ship, and a third, and a fourth, and my interest waned. By the time we crested the final hill and I saw where they’d all come from, I thought the ships but a trifle.

Word was, the revenue generated by students had built a city of commerce equal to that of Partum’s, and thus—Patrum being a costly city far from any coast—housed the greatest merchant port in all the islands of Evergreen. The harbor, built along an inward arc of the coast, was, in itself, a sight to behold. Like a manmade hive of sorts, piers extended over and beyond the sandy beach, lined and spaced in a way that made them look like the spokes of a hubless half-wheel. If I’d not seen the city behind it, I might’ve thought it grand.

The city lay nestled between two hills just shy of being mountains. Bright lights dotting the streets, the billowing smoke of a thousand chimneys, and the charged hum of activity buzzing in my ears from miles away all came together to make the docks inconsequential in comparison. To our left, at the northern foot of the western hill, was the city’s version of The Muds: a bevy of daub-and-wattle huts. To their east, separated by a wall, was their version of The Roots: an eclectic collection of dwellings with the wealthier and more organized ones closer to the sea and others spreading inland in ragged lines—the result of later settlers who’d fled to the city in hopes of partaking in its abundant trade. Along the coastal curvature, and more so in the central parts, the buildings were as extravagant as any I’d seen in The Heartwood, sporting gated mansions, soaring towers, and a vast, oval building I later found to be the amphitheater. Despite this, what truly elevated the city into a triumph was below the opposite hill and along the easter edge of the crescent coast.

The Academy was colossal. Bleached curtain walls as tall as a hundred men stretched between towers half again as tall, providing a stark contrast to the animated colors that lay beyond. Sparks of blue and red flashed and shone in its northern sector. Fields of exotic trees and plants stretched along the southern edge. Great clouds of smoke rose from monstrous blocks of stone higher up the hill. Even the godlings at the front of our procession hung out from their caravan windows, pointing and staring at the collection of spectacles.

It was the cusp of sunset when we entered the city. By the time the caravans and carts halted, coming to a stop in a plain courtyard, the night was well underway.

“Attention,” a voice boomed.

Lokos stood before the open doors of a six-story building. A tall man of olive complexion stood beside him. It was he who’d spoken.

“I am,” the man continued, “besides a master Vapor, the arbiter for this here student house. You may refer to me as Master Ekolise. Yes, as I’m sure you’ve all noticed, I am of Kolokasian descent—hold it against me at your own peril.” He paused a moment, inviting someone to comment. Not even the wind dared a whisper. “A few ground rules before you retire for the night. Firstly, no fights outside sanctioned bouts may occur on academy grounds. Second, any who are found with funds or items of worth will be punished. Third, no one may alter the architectural matrixes and their settings. Fourth, you—and I mean you—will incur the costs of any academy property you damage. Fifth, for now, no one may share a room. Sixth, the servants, whose services you may request but not command, must not be harmed. And lastly, until you are told otherwise, you will all wear The Academy uniform exclusively. Further to this rule, no personal touches may be made to said uniform. And no, this rule does not preclude you from taking it off for purposes of sanitation. Your Marks, however, which you will be presented with tomorrow and are considered part of the uniform, must not leave your neck in any circumstances whatsoever—though I doubt any of you could remove it without a Master’s express permission.

“Now, for some basic information. The eastern part of our wing—that would be the building behind me—is to be your private quarters for the foreseeable future. You may choose the allocation of rooms amongst yourselves. Do not fret if you are the last to do so. Except for the view they offer, all are identical. Any items you wish to dispose of may be left in the carts. Any items you wish for us to hold for you may be handed to Master Lokos. Amenities for sanitation and hygiene can be found in your private quarters in the form of privies and baths, both of which are in private rooms adjacent to your bed chambers.” He pointed to a single-story building on his right. “The northern section is the refectory. Breakfast and supper will be served there.” He pointed to his left at another one-story building. “The southern face is the servants' quarters. Other than the front office, which is where you may request their services, the rest of the building is barred from you. Any questions? Then get to bed. You will need the sleep. Induction will be in the refectory tomorrow at second-bell.”

We entered our new home in roughly the same order we came in. The Leaves went in first, Linus first amongst them. Edon was sixth. I, as was expected, was dead last.

The room they left me with was on the first floor, third due north of the stairs and facing the open courtyard. It was better than Merkus’ room in The Heartwood. The window, tall and sectioned into square panes, was made of glass so clear I could see it only by the way the light from the lanterns shone on its surface. A single, thick, warm rug covered the floor a fingerbreadth from the edges of the room. The head of the bed was pushed to the center of one of the walls and covered with soft linen and half a dozen plush pillows. Two doors were on the opposite end, one opening to a small privy clean enough to eat from, the other to a small room with a bath, a thick, brass pipe protruding over it from the ceiling.

Content with the investigation of my living courters, I swung closed the heavy, woolen curtains, turned off the matrix lanterns, and crept into the bed.

I awoke on the floor, the bedsheets wrapped around me. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there. I clambered up and threw open the curtains, finding no light beyond its coverage. First-bell was hours away and the sky was a dark blanket dotted with stars. Weeks had gone by and my body refused to break the habit of waking early. It seemed habits built on fear and hope take time to dismantle.

I tried to curl back into the bed and find sleep again. My nightmares, the latest iteration fresh on my mind, made certain I couldn’t.

The lanterns switched on with a twist of a switch. I made the bed, used the privy, and went into the bathroom. It took me a while to figure out how to get water from the pipe. As it turned out, a pulse of sensus on the inner surface would fill the water to wherever I’d indicated—a neat trick with more complexity than it was worth. I had no such luck with the temperate control and my bath was a cold, furious affair that left me numb but otherwise clean. It was Farian who taught me bathing was a necessity; I decided my shivering was his doing.

Five uniforms were folded in the oak chest opposite the bed. Each was a different size, the smallest of them hung loose on my slight frame. Fully dressed and with nowhere else to go, I headed to the refectory.

The lights in the servant quarters were all ablaze. As were those in the dining hall. They glowed past windows and onto the broken stump of a statue at the center of the courtyard. Time and damage had eroded the plaque unreadable. I found the incongruity curious. All I’d seen of the academy suggested they took pride in keeping their structures pristine. I could not help but wonder why they had left this statue in disrepair.

The dining hall was a masterpiece of carpentry. First were the doors, two large slabs of wood carved with scenes of battle so detailed it tricked the eyes into flinching away. Inside the hall, sculpted brackets of complex matrixes beyond my knowledge lined the walls, which themselves were a marvel of artistry. The same went for every beam, joist, raft, and ridge used to construct the high ceiling. Rows of identical benches and tables sat evenly spaced, all polished to a sheen. I sauntered over to a seat on the closest bench, studying the details of the room.

“Would you like some breakfast, sir?” a voice said.

I jerked around, finding an elderly man standing behind me. He wore all black, had a mop of white hair, and stood barely as tall as I sat.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

I waved my open palms at him. “No, no. No need to apologize. And I’m no sir, just…”

“You are a student of The Academy?” the man asked, words slightly muffled by his thick mustache.

“I am.”

“Then to The Academy servants, you are a sir. Would you like some breakfast?”

I smiled to hide my discomfort. “Yes.”

He strolled through a door at the back of the room, returning with a woman dressed in a stained apron. She slid the plate of food in front of me, laid out an assortment of cutlery, each carefully and purposely placed, and briskly returned to her post in the kitchen, all without uttering a word.

Freshly baked bread steamed. Fluffy eggs scrambled in butter lay in a pile. Thick sausages glistened a delightful shade of golden brown. A block of cheese flushed and melted from the heat of it all. I was on the verge of drooling.

“Eat,” The man said. It sounded oddly like an order.

I resisted the urge to pounce on the food, and instead, put out my hand to the diminutive man. “Aki.”

He watched my outstretched hand for a breath, then raised his eyes to mine, his mustache mimicking the angle of his smile. “We are going to get along grandly,” he said. “You may call me Ricell.” He grasped my forearm, his hands unusually large for his small frame. “Well met.”

“Care—” I mumbled before I stopped myself. Somewhere in the back of my thoughts, Farian’s voice reverberated the stiff table manners he’d drilling into me in the scant few weeks I’d spent with him. I closed my mouth, chewed, swallowed, and only then asked, “Care to join me?”

“Would if I could, young—.”

I waved away his intended use of an honorific. “Please. I told you my name so you could use it. Was that not your intent when you gave me yours?”

Ricell laughed. Only later would I understand why. “Very grandly indeed, Aki,” he said. “It’s a rare showing when the first encounter with a new batch of students meets me with such a humble fellow. Regretfully, I must decline your offer. Prior engagements have already purchased my time.”

“Not to worry,” I said, slightly disappointed. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities.” After three days of alternating between the silence of solitude and the hostility of my housemates, some pleasant company was more than welcome. I terribly missed Merkus.

With a consoling smile, Ricell left me to my meal.

I was drowsing off when the first of my fellow students came in. The three of them entered, chatting gaily in that bashful way new friends do. A twinge of jealousy had me grasping for sleep. It slipped away, telling me it held more distress than I currently faced.

Soon the room was full and I was trying my hand at another breakfast. The void I’d come into was pushed down on me by a roaring crowd, covering me in a dense bubble of seclusion. I’d not felt so alone since the days before…well, before. I picked at my food, watching and cursing their camaraderie from the corner of my eye, envy spurring on hatred.

“Attention,” Master Ekolise's voice resounded. I looked up. He stood at the head of the room. “Today marks the first of your time at The Academy. Official enrollment will now commence.”

A few servants came in with stacks of paper held tight to their chests. They dispersed about the room, handing out sheets to each of the students, somehow both chaotic and orderly in their manner.

“Your schedules,” Ekolise informed. “Copies can be requested at the servant's quarter. You will all attend the same classes for the first season unless your Master passes you early. The trial period will last a cycle of seasons. During this cycle, your rudimentary knowledge will be solidified in the first, your capacities confirmed in the second and third, and your specialties officially designated in the last. All this will be provided free of cost or commitment. Once the trial is over, you will have to fund your stay here. Permissible options on how to do so will present themselves in time.”

were victims of starvation. This proved them true. No one spoke of why they’d not just returned home or went about the world using the skills they’d already learned.

Ekolise waved forward a young man holding a thick wooden box. “When your name is called, come to collect your mark. This will identify you to the security measures within The Academy and act as a life compass should we ever need to verify your location. Be warned, the marks will freeze your senses until such a time as a Master unlocks this limitation.”

The boy lay the box down and unlocked the top. It took over two hours, our names called one by one, all of us—excluding the half dozen Leaves—scurrying to collect our marks under the hurrying glares of our classmates.

When the last was presented, Ekolise rose from his seat to speak once more. “Before you all leave for your first class, The Academy’s Head Master wishes to say a few words.” A few of the students sighed heavily, but a sharp snort and the narrowing of his dark eyes silenced the room.

In the quiet of tired anticipation, a short, modestly-dressed man walked in. My heart leaped to my throat.

Ricell strolled forward, his arms held behind his back in a dignified posture, his aura of command understating his small physical stature and modest attire. He perused the room with a critical eye, sparing me a wink as his observation passed over me. Only then did I remember to pick up my jaw.

I blamed Kalin and Diloni. They, as lowly Muds, spoke in much the same manner a Branch might. As such, I’d not quite learned to dissociate such characteristics from the lower classes. Ricell’s entire demeanor screamed of royalty. His clothing hadn't. His appearance and presence in the student's refectory so early in the morning hadn't. Yet…

“I am Head Master Hyron,” Ricell said. “Much as I would like to be here to welcome you, I am, in fact, here to reinforce a more sobering message. In case you had not understood the loss of your belongings, let me be as blunt as I can be. You are nothing. Within these walls, devoid of your family’s support, you are nothing. Until you earn your graduation, you will remain nothing. Act the part.” Coolly, as though he had not just threatened and insulted a room of Leaves and Branches, he turned and walked out.

Ekolise hushed the indignant mutterings of the better-born students with a simple frown. “Your first lecture will begin two turns from noon. I expect you all to find the location and keep watch of your punctuality.” With that, he followed Ricell out.

I went back to the half-eaten scraps of my second breakfast. Others discussed the Head Master’s terse speech. They, like me, questioned how such an ordinary-seeming man could hold such a position. Unlike me, they complained incessantly about their loss of status, the better bred the student, the louder their grievance.

A hand fell on my shoulder.

Before I explain what happened next, let me say I’ve never been one for notions of romantic love. Lust I understood—though never to a degree to which I could sympathize with others of my age. Merkus was much the same way. We only ever spoke of such matters when Edon had the mind to mention his various exploits. I, like any adolescent boy, appreciated the beauty of the feminine form, but the zeal others expressed was beyond me.

Until I saw Sil.

She was, to my eye, the most feminine woman I’d ever met or seen. Not in ways that exaggerated, but in ways that perfected. Golden streams of hair ran down to her shoulders. Pale lashes and blazing eyebrows gleamed against her milky skin. A pert nose rested above full lips. Each feature lay perfectly on her oval face, symmetrical and proportional. Large blue eyes of sapphire reminded me of the vast sky and sea I’d only recently come to know, outdoing their grandeur. So enamored was I, so infused in my appreciation, I almost missed the jolt of her anger; the twitch of her jaw clenching, the flicker of her brow creasing, the flash of her nostrils flaring. Then I heard her silken voice and ardor dismissed my observations as mere misapprehensions.

“Mind if we join you?” she asked. I took a moment to notice the tall boy standing beside her. “Is that a no?”

“Of course not,” I said. “Nothing of the sort. Please, um, sit, join me.”

They went the short distance around the table and took the seats opposite me.

“You’re The Mud?” she asked.

Shame tried to creep into me. I beat it back with anger. I am who I am. “Yes.”

“Impressive,” the boy commented. His voice was deep and clear. It complemented his handsome face. My urge to punch him ugly almost overwhelmed me.

“Indeed,” she added. My brow furrowed. The conversation wasn’t going where I thought it would. “It takes talent to be accepted here. Those from The Leaves and Branches expend political power while those of The Roots spend a fortune to train their offspring. Even then many fail to reach The Academy. Getting here without support is commendable.”

I answered with silence. What could I do with the great ax of my anger when they came with the feathers of compliments. It took me a moment to lay down my rage.

“So, which institute are you aiming for?” The boy asked.

“War. You?”

“Administration.” He shrugged at my incredulity. “Why fight when you can rule?”

The girl laughed and slapped his arm. “To fight is to rule. Wherever you go, fighting is inevitable—especially when you attempt to avoid it.”

The boy snorted. “Not all power comes in the form of personal strength, and ultimately, power is what rules.”

“Power is derived from strength,” she insisted. “Merkusian himself said so.”

“A cyclical argument,” he said. “Because any power taken becomes, in a manner of speaking, part of your strength.”

“False.” She grinned like her next words would quell the crux of his argument. “Such power can be taken and is therefore never truly part of your strength.”

The handsome young man returned her grin. “Therein lies your folly, Sil. You assume that the skill needed to maintain power is not part of your strength. Besides, any strength can be taken. Souls and bodies can be broken just as easily as alliances, loyalties, or any other means of influence.”

“Nonsense,” the girl barked, her shout a passion of sincerity. She turned to me then, and like we were longtime friends, said, “Aki, rid this imbecile of his delusion.”

Unoffended, the large boy laughed merrily. “You’d best not let her charms stop you from admitting the truth, Aki. So, go on then, let's hear it—the truth that is.”

And like that, like a handsome storm of lighthearted jibes and casual geniality, I met Sil and Dako.