There is a sense of vast swathes of time passing. It's not dark or bright here. It's not anything. Here... Isn't. But there's not enough time in this transitory state to form thoughts or impressions; It's over in an instant despite the sense of timeless immensity.

Now she's in a soft chair on an elaborate rug on some kind of tower. The landscape all around is bucolic - rolling green hills, pastoral rivers, and friendly-looking forests. A thin, old-looking woman in a bright yellow floral print dress is sitting across a wrought iron table. There is a tea set.

"Hello there, miss. Unfortunately, you're dead. We have a few minutes before you're not dead anymore. Would you like some tea?"

"I would love some tea, thank you," she says, operating on the manners of a court noble driven down so deep they're bedrock in her soul. "I assume you're about to explain?"

She pours tea with perfect elegance and manners, aside from continuing to speak. "As much as I can. Something about you was special enough for an ancient and powerful process to pull you from the river of souls, and bring you here specially. I suspect it to be a decisiveness and ability to command that will be needed, for you see, the world you are soon to enter will soon face a terrible force of evil. It is the summoned hero's job to defend against it by gathering allies and resources, by growing in power."

"It's only natural that someone like me would be called to this task," she says. "What force of evil is this?"

"A Demon Lord. They will be as powerful as the Hero and surely try to destroy all civilization in the world, or otherwise cause enough havoc and destruction as makes no difference. To help you in your quest, you will receive a unique and powerful magical ability. I can do my best to make it something you will find useful, rather than something random, if you wish."

She nods. "Give me my birthright," she says. "The attention and time I'm due. Make it easy for me to prove I am the Hero and draw others to my banner. That's what I want."

She smiles and nods. "Very well. I shall do my best. Have you any further questions? There remains time for a few."

"What reaction am I likely to recieve as a claimed Hero? How can I expect politics to complicate my life?"

"The coming of the Hero heralds great change and a time of war. Established power structures may be wary of you and myopically wish to believe you are a false claimant so that things can continue as they have been, or may seek to ally with you to later benefit from your favor. There is often fear of the Hero's future actions, for once they grow enough in power they are unimpeachable. The downtrodden and oppressed will see the Hero as the light of hope."

She nods. "Are there any particular organizations I should be wary of or consider allying with?

"The world is large enough that I cannot predict what kingdom you will land in. However, Adventurers' Guilds are common. They restrict access to the dungeons which are the fastest way to grow in power in order to turn a profit, and exist across most of the world. You will have to deal with them one way or another, most likely."

She nods. "How much emphasis should I put on personal power?"

"The Demon Lord and the Summoned Hero will likely be the most powerful individuals in the world by the time things come to a head. If you have enough powerful followers, and help them grow in power as well, and use them wisely, your own growth is not quite so critical... But I advise against neglecting it."

"Thank you," says Liath. "I have no further questions."

"Very well. Good luck. The fate of the world depends on your actions."

Now she is standing on a stone road. A walled town is visible in front of her, perhaps half a mile away. And something tells her, not with words but just knowledge-

Unique Skill gained! 『Glorious Presence』 level 1.

None can deny your majesty.

Grants you increased charisma and 'aura', causing you to seem royal and majestic and inspiring others to respect and obey you. Your words carry as far as you wish them to (current limit: 100ft), and are heard only by those you wish to hear them. Significantly boosts all manipulation, intimidation, and persuasion attempts you make. Confers great resistance to similar effects used on you.

The hot, dry wind blows around her. The terrain is most of the way to 'desert', with brown dry scrublands all around.

And she is wearing heels. Not exactly the best all-terrain wear. 

She'll head onwards towards the town and hopefully not get a blister or break a heel on the way.

She does not break a heel! In fact, after only a few steps, she suddenly finds walking in high heels almost effortless even over the rough stones.

The landscape reveals a little more as she walks. She passes marble obelisks about eight feet tall - each engraved with 'FRANZERL WARD STONE E56' or a similar letter-number combination. They give off a slightly strange feeling and seem to be... Shimmering a bit. And just behind the 'ward stones', there is a sudden cliff that the road winds along, the edge of a huge crater with flourishing forests and plantlife throughout. Green valleys covered in farms spread across the crater. The town's wall is a medieval-looking edifice of stone with large blue crystals set on top of the walls in parapets every once in a while. It's built right up to the edge of the crater, and it looks like there's some sort of elevator. Some of the buildings inside the wall are visible - four or five story apartments, colorful towers, a white palace rising above it all.

A wagon being pulled by some sort of... Horse-like animal approaches on the road. The driver is a mousey man - literally. He has mouse ears and a short snout with a pink nose, and he is staring slightly.

She nods to the mousey man and continues on down the road towards the elevator. Normally she wouldn't bother, but in this strange country...

The elevator building is three tall structures of stone and wood framing a pair of large openings. A clock is counting down - 2 minutes 15 seconds, with a large arrow pointing to the right opening. There is a big crowd of people of various species (but mostly humans) and a few wagons in a queue area, all apparently milling around waiting. There are also some people in green uniforms collecting fees and checking tickets, and a few people with medieval weapons and armor hanging around. The town walls are just a couple hundred feet beyond, with a large wooden gate and another queue for entry and more uniforms and guards.

She surveys the crowd. What does she have that she could trade for a ticket. She could of course claim to be the hero and that would get her to the local authorities, but she can't just demand everything she wants with nothing to offer in return. She can trade against her future victory, but that's so far off it might as well not exist. She could... ask for a loan...??? 

Fuck that noise, she's a Queen. Act like it. 

She puts on her best noble mien and steps up towards the guards. "Guards!" she calls. "Have any of you seen my entourage?"

The guards stiffen into more alert postures. The closest looks at the next closest and whispers something to her. The other glares at him and answers, "No, ma'am, I don't believe so! We haven't received any entourages today as far as I know. I'm terribly sorry if something has gone wrong - I can go ask the captain if you were expected...?"

"If I was expected here it'll be a miracle. I would like to see your commander in person in order to arrange my further travel. Acceptable?"

She doesn't need this to hold for long; she just needs to get to the Commander's office. Then she can claim her real title.

"Of course. I'll send a message right away! Ah- Would you like to step in the guardhouse while you wait? We're simple guards here but can at least provide a place to sit."

"Thank you, I've been walking for some time and the shade will be appreciated. What's your name, ma'am?" Remember the little people and they'll remember you.

"Of course. Veloa Faroe deMont, ma'am. Right this way."

She pulls out a sending stone as she starts walking. "Who should I tell the Captain he is meeting with?"

"Liath, of the Foot of the Red Throne," she says, using one of the most minor of her many, many titles. "I believe it is equivalent to a duchess here."

Veloa Faroe deMont speaks into the rock pulled from her pocket and listens to the response. Evidently it's something like a magic phone.

The guardhouse's resting area is very... Plain, but after she shoos everyone else out and leaves herself, still talking to the sending stone, it is at least quiet and cool. Veloa fetches her a glass of ice water and apologizes for having nothing worthy for her to eat.

Veloa comes back a few minutes later. "The Captain is currently in the city and can see you soon, would you prefer an escort to his office or to rest and meet him here?"

She drinks some water. "I would prefer a meeting in a private, secure location, so an escort to his office is more appropriate."

"Of course. I'll- There will be a carriage shortly."

There is a carriage shortly. It's very comfortable and smooth, magic is probably involved.

She's escorted up to the top floor of a castle-like building that shares more in common with a fortress than a palace by guards in shinier armor. These ones seem much less impressed and overawed by her noble mien, but are still respectful.

She saves every glance of this alien polity for reference. When she disembarks, she makes her own pace, neither hurried nor sedate but rather purposeful. Her heels clack on the castle stone.

Observations of note:

There are slaves; They wear special collars and nobody acts as if they could disobey or run away.

Men and women seem to be equals, here, unlike so many societies in the multiverse.

There are a lot of different species here. Like, a lot. Most people are human, but there must be at least a dozen different kinds of not-quite-human, and a few weirder sorts - there was a talking horse they passed, and a bird the size of a Great Dane wearing clothes and running a shop.

Going by fashion and actions, there are four rough social classes (aside from slaves) - poor laborers, middle class craftsmen, rich and powerful people, and mercenaries/guards(?)

Dungeons are places that the mercenaries/guards(?) visit frequently for some reason(???)

The local ruler is a Governor, appointed by one King Aldonesphiel XVI, according to a plaque in the lobby.

"Captain Rousseau will see you now," the fancy-armored guards tell her as they reach a fancy oak door and open it for her.

Captain Rousseau is a large man with extremely defined muscles, a chiseled jaw, and slightly greying hair, wearing a fancier version of that green uniform over masterwork chainmail. His office is finely decorated; There is a tray of fancy confections and a tea set on his meeting table.

"Liath, of the Foot of the Red Throne. Welcome to Franzerl, I am Captain Rousseau. As far as I know, we have no relationship with anything called the Red Throne, and in fact my scholars have no knowledge of it either, so I'm sure you can imagine the possibilities I must consider here."

Liath waits until the door closes before speaking selectively for Captain Rosseau only. 

"I understand, Captain. My tale is an unlikely one, more likely spoken by a charlatan than the genuine article. Nonetheless, I must regretfully inform you that I am in fact the Summoned Hero. The title is genuine: it simply does not originate from this world."

He's a pretty cool character, but that unsettles him.

"...More likely spoken by a charlatan than the genuine article, indeed. Would you like a snack while I think for a moment?"

"I would appreciate a tea service, if only so I can put my table manners on display for you." Her education is her proof she's of noble blood; ettiquette can be faked but it's a card she'll play.

He nods and presses a button on the underside of his desk, then goes to sit at the table. He pulls out her chair for her before settling heavily into his own and, deliberately, to try to put her off balance, putting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands in a thinking pose.

A demurely dressed maid appears in mere moments from a low profile servant's door and serves tea. It's good tea, some unfamiliar variety of black tea.

She is unshaken. She lesiurely prepares tea with a teaspoon of sugar and a dash of cream, then drinks from the fine china cup. Her hands do not tremble. 

A calculating eye meets the Captain's gaze over the rim of the teacup.

The table is quiet as they stare at each other.

Captain Rousseau is imperfect at hiding his actions. He's subvocalizing, and from his microexpressions, listening to someone talking back and not liking what he's hearing.

She drops her spoon into her teacup. 

"Captain," she says. "I would prefer for you to include me in the conversation you are having."

"A reasonable preference. I would prefer not to have to deal with a possible Summoned Hero."

"A reasonable preference. I simply want directions to the nearest city and enough support to get me there. I have no intent to be persistently your problem."

"You can't not be my problem anymore. Wherever you end up, you were here first."

"That's fair, and I apologize inasmuch as I was responsible for that."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to agree to a Geas of some sort."

"To speak truth? Yes. For anything else, no."

"I intend to call someone I trust. I will ask 'do you swear to either answer my next question truthfully, or refuse to answer it'. The binding will take if you agree. Then I will ask, 'In the past hour, to the best of your knowledge have you deceived me in any way, whether through accident or design or side effect, or could you even possibly be under the influence of any Skills or effects which might make your internal experience inconsistent in order to defeat lie detection'. Acceptable?"

"It's impossible for me to know for certain that I haven't been used by some third party with sufficiently scary mind control. But I can swear that my internal experience has been consistent ever since I arrived here south of your town in the desert."

"If there is a third party with mind control that scary I'm utterly fucked anyway."

He gets up and presses another button under his desk. "Chee, send Senna up please. It'll just be a few."

"Right away, sir," comes a slightly echoey answer.

"Very good, thank you."

He starts pacing.

Senna knocks a minute later. She has blue hair, is wearing a blindfold, and is actually rather pretty - close to Liath herself. She doesn't react when he explains the Geas in question, and casts it without comment, and leaves immediately after it takes hold like a noose around Liath's heart, having said not a single word.

Captain Rousseau asks his question.

"I have decieved you in that I claimed to only be a duchess of the country I ruled before I came here. I am a duchess but it is the least of my titles; I was a reigning Queen. Apart from this omission I have not decieved you by intent, design or side effect. I am in possession of a unique skill that improves my ability to lie as part of improving my overall presence, but it is not capable of memory editing or otherwise preventing me from realizing my own duplicity. As far as I know there is no outside agency that could be using me beyond those involved in summoning me here. Is that enough of an answer for you, sir?"

...He seems to deflate.

"You understand I had to check. Let's get you taken care of. I'll give you an express trip to Liscor and a few gold pieces to see you off in exchange for a future favor. I'll declare that favor now- Leave this town and the whole Green Crater out of things as much as you can. Please."

"Thank you," she says. "I'll remember you and do my best to leave you out of it." 

A promise of great weight, that one. She can't call up troops from here now, not without pushback. She's denied herself access to the local resources in the long term. But for this critical aid at this critical time, it's worth it.

"Great." He opens a very fancy-looking money pouch and digs out three gold coins before handing them to her. "This is all I can spare personally. It's plenty to start with, though not a queen's ransom. Your Highness the Hero, if you would follow me..."

He is very keen to get her out of his town. He brings her to the roof and calls for some sort of flying (horseless) chariot, which lands on the roof with a thrumming noise, piloted by a short and energetic mouse-woman. It looks fast, but uncomfortable.

"All the way to Liscor, is it? That's a great gig - you must be in a hurry, miss!"

"I am indeed," she says. "Thank you for your service."

Always remember the little people, and in turn they'll remember you. She repeats the mantra again to keep herself from being short with the innocent pilot.

"Well then, strap in and off we go!"

This thing is not faster than a jet plane, but it feels almost as fast. Talking is close to impossible. Her hair gets messed up by the wind.

For this kind of speed she'll endure a little excess wind. She holds on and flies.

Liscor, it turns out, is a large city with some very impressive looking walls, nestled in a sort of swampy valley between two high streaks of mountains. The whole area is criss-crossed with lakes and mud by the look of things - there is only one road north and one south.

Her pilot slows down on the approach and argues with someone for a little bit through the control console once they're close, hovering in midair.

"Okay, looks like I have to set you down outside the walls! The gateway city doesn't want things flying over it."

The flying chariot attracts a lot of attention. People standing on the walls and in the streets of the city and on the road point and stare as it lowers to the ground.

"Aetherwing ultra express appreciates your patronage and hopes you enjoyed your flight! Need help getting down, miss?"

"No, I can handle myself." What is she, an invalid? 

She steps down from the flying chariot outside the walls, fixes her hair as best she can, and walks onwards towards the city.

The crowd by the gate parts for her. The gate guards are about half some sort of lizardperson, half human. One waves at her cheerfully.

"Welcome to Liscor! Name and purpose in the city, please?"

"Liath, magical education." 

The lizardperson writes this down. "Are you aware that Liscor's laws mandate that you must either, one, take shelter as directed, or two, follow orders of the Liscor guard for the duration of the emergency and receive compensation for participating in the defense of Liscor, in the event that a general alarm is sounded?"

"I am now so aware, thank you."

They snicker. "Yeah, that's the point of asking it like that. Entry tax is one silver..."

"We don't have an entry tax, you fuckhead!" Another guard calls.

They snicker again. "Just joking, go on in."

"Thank you." She looks to the guard who denied the entry tax. "And thank you too," she says, more gently. "Can you give me directions to the..." She pretends to fumble for words. "You know, the magic college?" More colloquial than is her style, but that humanizes her.

"Liscor Academy? Straight down the street, can't miss it. NEXT!"

She goes through and straight down the street. Is Liscor Academy obvious?

Liscor Academy is pretty obvious! It's a large complex with its own unique architecture filled with young people carrying books, much like Earthly universities.

She looks for the enrollment desk.

Also findable after asking a few students! They're mostly happy to give directions to the rich girl and maybe hit on her.

The enrollment desk is an open lobby area with individual desks, like bank tellers. The man at the desk she picks invites her to a back room as soon as she mentions being a new enrollment instead of merely changing classes or some other bureaucratic action.

"At Liscor Academy, essentially, you will open an account with us, and all our classes have set fee that pays for the professor's time, as well as use of facilities and class materials or supplies. You can choose to sign up for any class you like and drop the class for a small fee if it's not what you wanted. There's no attendance policy, if you want to pay for the class and not attend it we're perfectly fine with that." He laughs to himself. "Of course you can also hire tutors or pay for one-on-one lessons with your professors, if they agree. At student services we track your Skills as they progress to help you choose the best classes and qualify you for higher level lessons."

First things first; shelter.

"Do you offer student housing? I'm comfortable with something spartan. And what are your rates for standard instruction?"

"We have housing partners and a campus dining plan, yes, I can go over the options in a bit. Rates depend on class - this is our course catalog-"

They offer instruction in LOTS of things, apparently. Many martial pursuits are listed, but so is economics, history, blacksmithing, politics, and quite a few magical disciplines. Course fees range from a dozen coppers for a two week intro workshop to 6 platinum pieces for 'Battle Magic - Chamon'. Most intro courses cost 1 to 5 silver.

She has no idea how much three gold is, but she can get this advisor to help her figure that out without realizing it. She needs something for expenses other than this, so she'll hold back one gold from this theoretical plan.

"Could you recommend me an introductory plan for someone interested in going into combat spellcasting within a budget of, mm, let's say two gold?"

"Hmm, that does depend on what specialty you want and whether you have the right capacities, and I'm not the best person for that discussion honestly- Have you ever been tested for sorcery talent?"

"I have not. How much for that service?"

If she doesn't have the potential she'll eat her crown.

"Looks like... Windsight awakening attempt is one silver piece, it's half an hour's guided meditation with a Magister-level sorcerer. If you have the potential it will be revealed and you'll learn which Wind you are best suited to as well. Sorcery is powerful and versatile, but somewhat dangerous to learn and use. Wizardry takes longer to learn and has some odd limitations but is another mainline discipline for good reason. There are several enchanting disciplines, but if you're going for combat caster you don't want those. There are quite a few more niche types of magic but again, I'm not qualified to discuss them."

"I'll be going for Sorcery assuming I have any talent whatsoever. Can you open an account for me and deposit two gold of credit now?"

She still needs to account for meals and clothing and so on, but this seems like a good place to start.

"Of course! We do collect a magical signature from all students, that's the account key and also the mechanism for Skill tracking. It involves collecting a drop of blood, but alternate methods are available for a small fee."

Who knows what else they can do with that... but she's not going to mark herself out and spend more money to remove the off chance. She wants to control this college anyway.

"I'm fine with having a drop of blood taken. Here is your two gold, and I'd like to pay a month's rent for student housing immediately."

He looks slightly annoyed, then covers it up. "Shall I just pick the cheapest option for student housing? Is a double room okay, or do you want a single? Co-ed okay?"

She considers a moment. She needs to be able to trust that her money won't walk off... "Cheapest single you have, please. I don't care if it's co-ed."

"Alright, then. That will be two gold in, three silver eleven copper for a month's rent on a single in Haigley Hall, one silver for a sorcery aptitude test, leaving you with 1 gold 9 silver 8 copper in your account. When would you like your aptitude test? Would you like to sign up for student dining? Two meals a day in any campus dining hall for another three silver per month. You won't find any decent food for that cheap outside campus, but if you're really pinched for cash you could save money buying staples instead."

Oh, excellent, that neatly satisfies her food needs. She might as well deposit this gold... well, except she needs clothing that doesn't make her look like a princess. 

"I would like my aptitude test scheduled as early as possible, even if that means it's at an unfortunate hour for me. I'll pay another three silver for student dining for the month. Can you make change for another Gold for me, or will I have to go to a bank for that?"

"Alright, your student ID will also give you dining access. I'll check the aptitude test availability when I fetch the ID device, but I expect there will be a slot today. Sure, I can make change if you want a partial gold deposit."

Food, shelter and education takes up most of her budget anyway...

"Please deposit enough of this third gold to bring my account back up to two gold running." She offers it up.

He hands her 9 silver pieces and 8 copper ones back and notes down the amount.

"I'll be right back, stay here please."

He returns with a brick-shaped device made of some sort of blue stone and a palm-sized indent, as well as a pen-knife. "We had a slot for sorcery testing open in twenty minutes so I went ahead and signed you up for it! It'll be in room 232 Roland Hall, that's the four-story building with the mural of the dry season with the hills and flowers and the statue of Szalt Ironbreaker out in front, just across the park. Now, just prick your fingertip with this and then press it in the indent, and we'll be all done. Feel free to come back and sign up for classes once the sorcery test is done."

She pricks her finger without flinching and presses it in the indent. "Thank you very much," she says. Always remember the little people...

The device glows slightly. Her guide holds a small metal card to it, then hands over the card, then produces a sheet of paper and does something with the box. On the paper appears:

STR 7
DEX 11
CON 5
INT 16
WIS 9
CHA 18

HP 10
MP 12

As well as a list of Skills. Most of the things she's proven adept at appear on the list, from Courtly Manners and Poise and Fashion and Politics, to Deception and Sense Motive and Read Opponent and Negotiate, even High Heeled Walking, Cryotography, and Iron Will. Her guide doesn't look very surprised, but there are a couple of weird holes in that list. Her Unique Skill doesn't appear on it.

"Here you are. I - might advise you to pick up a few basic utility skills to round yourself out and at least one weapon skill as a backup, if sorcery works out for you. We offer basic class planning as a free service here but I could arrange a session with one of our better student planners for four copper, they'll know exactly how to fit everything into a tight schedule and push you far as they can based on what you want."

Of course she wants the best.

"I'll take a session with the better student planner, thank you. After my sorcery aptitude test, of course."

"Alright! Just come back here to arrange that. Good luck."

Liath nods and takes her leave. 

Mural of the dry season, huh? She's sure she'll test well, if being the Chosen Hero means anything. And then she'll be on her way to reclaiming her birthright.

There's a mural with a lot of rolling green hills, which at least doesn't include lakes like her view coming in did, and the statue is there too.

The rooms and building doors all have scan pads like a modern electronic security system, and respond to her student ID. The designated room is not hard to find. Inside it is a a bare stone room with stone furniture and a short pedestal or stage in the middle. There is a man in deep grey robes scrawling complicated-looking notes on a wall-sized blackboard.

"Liath, for Windsight meditation?" He asks without looking away from his - equations?

"Yes, sir." She is technically his superior but she's trying very hard to make a good impression.

"Don't bother with that. I don't care what your position is and I don't much care whether you're polite but I'm very busy."

He finishes scrawling an equation and turns to face her. "Get on the dais. Sit on the floor or drag a chair in. I'll be having you meditate and focus on various things. If you have any talent at all this will take all of ten minutes and the rest is aptitude testing. Do you know anything about the Winds of Magic?"

She gets on the dias and kneels in the position she knew all her life before she was queen. "Nothing."

"I'm not teaching basic world facts beyond the absolute minimum necessary. The winds are an ephemeral force of magic, constantly flowing in the world around us. There are eight primary and primal forces, each with different affinities and tendencies. Sorcery consists of sensing these energies, and shaping them into spells."

"Close your eyes. Take deep breaths. Pay attention to the feelings on your skin. Fabric and air. The cool stone. Your skin is a boundary between you and not-you. But things cross that boundary. You must breathe air. It is constantly flowing. Breathe deeply and focus on the feeling of air flowing. In...... Hold...... Out......"

The guided meditation continues, with occasional questions. Eventually, when he asks if she senses anything, she does. It feels like warmth, like a patch of hot sand on her skin. No, the shape is like a sine wave - fuzzy and indistinct, but with a flowing, repeating, cyclical feel to it.

Of course it would feel like that. 

"I can feel heat in a cyclical motion from... Over there?"

"Tactile, then. Or possibly radiant."

It stops, though there is still a faint sense of - silk or something - coming from all around.

There is now a sense like cold metal, on her back. Well, 'on' her 'back'. It's unmistakably not her actual back.

"Cold metal on my... back...? And something like silk all around me." 

"What you first sensed was aqshy. The silk is likely my aura of ulgu. The metal is chamon. I'll run you through the others, there are eight, then we'll see which one you can gather most easily."

Azyr: Static electricity and glass
Ghur: Rough fur and hard muscle
Ghyran: Leaves with light dew
Hysh: Airy and slick like soap
Shyish: Slightly sticky and clammy

The meditation exercises to gather up the relevant Wind make the feeling accumulate inside her body. Each moves differently, capriciously. Aqshy answers her call most easily, heat and fire calling to itself and spreading. She finds the exercise suddenly easier twice during the session.

There has always been a fire inside her. This just makes it less metaphorical. 

Silk - ulgu - and furs - ghur - come to her a little easier than the others, but none of them are anywhere near as easy as the sweet heat of aqshy that pools near her heart and makes her feel confident and right.

"So now you've awakened your windsight and know your affinities. Bright, Shadow, and Amber. Go on, I want to get back to my reverse-engineering."

She nods. And out she goes to report back to the front desk. 

"Assessment says I have potential." She grins. "When can I have that meeting with an advisor?"

"Congratulations! I can see who's on call for that now, should be just a few-"

She ducks out behind the desk into the hall beyond.

"Chell can come get you in a few minutes. She's reviewed well and has no complaints, but her fee is five copper and four copper pennies, not the standard four, acceptable?"

Details, details. 

"Yes, that's acceptable," she says mildly.

Chell is another lizardperson! Spunky and energetic. She leads Liath to an office.

"Awright! So my notes say you're going into combat casting, you'll maybe want some basic gen-eds, maybe want some basic weapon. What Wind? Better to focus on one at first, if you want to get proficient enough to fight. You looking to be an adventurer, or is your real goal something else?"

"Adventurer first, pivot into politics," she says. "My strongest Wind is aqshy."

"Well, Bright Magic is sure the right one for firepower. Looks like you've already got a politics skillset pretty covered, aside from some history and admin stuff. I think that all can wait, right? What weapon do you want as a backup? Sword or dagger is the usual option for casters. How many hours a day can you work consistently, how heavy should I make your schedule-"

"That can wait. Sword, please. Twelve hours." She'd prefer ten, but with the Demon Lord on the rise...

"Right. Let's start you tomorrow, so first we want lots of aqshy control, Montville's pretty good with novices..."

Chell quickly puts together a schedule for the first month, then three alternate schedules for the second month depending on how well the first goes. She should be competent to go into dungeons by then if she sticks to it and levels well. That's about how long her two gold will last at such an intense course load, even with the first month's room and board paid for.

She managed worse hours in the succession war. She can do this. 

"Thank you for your help, Chell. Can you give me directions to Haigley Hall?"

"Sure thing! There's maps around campus too. You'll know your way around in no time."

Directions are given. Cheerful waves goodbye, too, and she points out that her room number in Haigley is printed on the metal student ID now. 115.

She goes to her room in Haigley and looks around her accommodations, then pops out into the hall to look for her new roommates. She was always told she'd find allies in college...

Her floor's common room contains:

A teenage boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, playing some sort of board game with hexagons and colored pieces alone.

A human couple cuddled together in an armchair, whispering to each other and edging close to PDA.

A prototypically nerdy-looking man, glasses and all, reading a book ("Implications of Kannaut's Eigenspace Theory") at a table.

Two lizardpeople at the common kitchen, gossiping rapidly and cooking some sort of stir fry.

A muscled young woman telekinetically juggling two pens in the air with a metal gauntlet that tickles at her newly awakened Windsight, a look of focus on her face.

... nobody she'd really like to talk to, but she should get to know the neighbours. 

"Hey," she says to the lizardpeople, cutting in on their conversation. "I'm new here, just moved into 115. Who are you two?"

"Olesm."

"Karst."

"What about you? Do you play chess? We were just talking about Hans, Tactician, totally obsessed about it and maybe he'd like a new opponent-"

"New to the city? So many humans in Liscor these days..."

"Liath. I play chess, though not very well. I'm new to the city. Either of you two know a good clothier in town?"

"Dressed as nice as that, but not enchanted as far as I can tell... You'll want Chelsea's or Red Hat Needles if you're looking for more of the same."

"I was looking for something a little less upscale, actually. Something suitable for swordfighting practice, that I don't mind getting dirt and dust in."

"Ohhh. What do you think, Olesm-"

"There's a lot more options for that. Just get something self-cleaning and armored, I'd say, but I'm sure Karst would love to help you go shopping, he practically exists to shop."

"Don't go all pushy at the new neighbor, now!" Karst nudges Olesm lightly with the spatula. Olesm snickers.

"How affordable is that? I hate to have to consider the question, but most of my money is tied up in tuition."

"A full outfit? About a gold. If you just go for a dress or shirt and pants, skip the gloves, greaves, boots, socks and undies, hood and all, you could get that for... I want to say eight silver if you're good at haggling."

"That's just within my budget," she says. "So that'll have to do. Can you give me directions to Red Hat Needles from here? I don't know the city."

"No, see, for armor you want to comparison shop a bunch of different places if you actually want to score eight silver. I can be a native guide if you want, soon as I have lunch! The cafeteria can't get garti right, they don't use enough spice, so we have to do it ourselves."

"I would love to comparison shop with you!"

Surprisingly, she would actually. Maybe it's just easier to like lizards.

Karst laughs, it's a slightly odd sound, a bit like 'hshshshs'. "It's almost done, you won't have to wait too long. What are you going to study? I'm here for alchemy and brewing."

"Combat magic as a Bright mage. Secondary affinities Shadow and Amber, though I won't be learning either of those anytime soon."

Maybe that'll make them sit up and take notice.

"Hsssha, you mean a sorcerer? That's rare enough. Don't blow yourself up, now."

"I'll try not to! Anything I can do to help out with the cooking?"

Remember the little people, etc.

"Just get those plates, I think it's done. Want a bite?"

If she does want a bite, the food proves to be very spicy, but in an interesting way. They gossip about the Academy- The professors are all obsessed with either money or research or fighting, their classmates mostly likewise. They gossip about the Guard and the Army- Liscor is apparently a bit like Prussia, having a large mercenary army that calls the city home and has lots of political power, out of the city fighting for the highest bidder most of the time. It's one of the best places to learn to fight because of that, though!

She's not going to turn down a free meal, no matter how spicy. So she eats as much as she thinks she can get away with, and listens carefully to the gossip in the meantime. Any mentions of popular people at the Academy she could cozy up to?

There's Ancilla Whitetail, a princess of some kingdom of bunny-people down south, the narrative is that she's ignoring her royalty to become a polymath, but from the gossip she's still maintaining and further building an entourage. There's Minza, a Drake (they're Drakes, not lizardpeople, and will get offended if referred to otherwise) who manifests the rare racial abilities that make Drakes related to dragons - wings she can fly with and fire breath, extremely popular among Drakes, doing intense combat training and also tutoring others. There's Samuel Harlow, a devilishly charming wizard from a world-famous academy in the north, with rumors surrounding him that he uses some sort of forbidden magic of some kind. Completely unconfirmed, of course.

... She'll look into this Ancilla character later. 

For now, she needs to go shopping!

Shopping involves trawling across a dozen different stores on two streets, loudly arguing and haggling with the salespeople. If she wants an Adventurer Chic Battle Dress, with adjustable flaps and zippers and fold-out panels to change from a more fashionable take to a more protective one, she can have it in any single color she likes. Though trying to get the price down to 8 silver is a bit like pulling teeth, even with the byplay of Karst pretending to like it and Liath being disdainful and dismissive of the garment's merits. No color-change charm, no additional armor enchantments, no self-cooling or heating. Just the basic self cleaning and the toughness that naturally comes with being heavy cloth and leather. All that can be added later for more money, once she has some, at least.

She will absolutely take the reduced-price cheap-edition battle-dress. It's adventurer chic. 

"I guess that price is acceptable," she says. And she hands over almost all her spending money.

Karst shows a small measure of triumph as they fold up the garment and present it to her in a fancy paper bag.

"You'll look great like that, you'll be dungeon-diving in no time I'm sure!"

"Thank you! I really appreciate the help haggling. I should go change into this!"

"Well, don't let me keep you! I'm getting groceries - see you back at the dorm?"

"See you back at the dorm!"

And she retraces her steps back to her dorm room. 

The dress is gorgeous; she tries it on and smiles deeply. Worth every penny. 

Now, to find where her classes will start tomorrow. She can hardly be late on her first day.

The campus contains many places with strange names, and now she knows how to find a good portion of them.

She checks against the written class schedule her advisor gave her and visits each room and building and training ground in turn. 

There's still some time in the day...

She'll practice the focussing and gathering exercise a little more in her dorm room - that much she knows is safe. For aqshy, ghur and ulgu. Then supper in the dining hall, and then to sleep. She'll be needing plenty of sleep in the days to come.

There isn't really much ghur or aqshy ambient in her dorm room. Just tiny trickles, compared to what was brought forth in that stone room. Though the stovetop fire in the common room is a nice warm source of aqshy. Ulgu is in slightly greater provenance. The dining hall is nice enough but not exactly upscale or fancy - she can meet and greet some more people! None of them are especially interesting, but she makes a good impression.

The new day dawns with a rush of ulgu, seeming to writhe in excitement as the sun peeks over the city.

What and when is her first class?

The Winds of Magic (Theory) from 8:00 to 10:00. Then Basic Sword - Liscorian Army Style from 10:15 to 11:30. Then Supervised Control Exercises (Bright) from 1:00 to 3:45. There's also Spellcasting Theory (Bright), Spellcasting Theory (Sorcery - Cantrips), Basic Tactics, Finance & Planning for Novice Adventurers, another Supervised Control Exercises in the evening, and 'Dungeon Jargon - Know your tanks from your DPS!'.

Well then, best get to it. She turns up for her theory class in her battledress, the leather panels folded away.

It's a fairly small class, maybe thirty people. About a fifth of them are dressed as nicely as her. The professor is a cat-woman.

The class explains the general tendencies and characteristics of the eight most common Winds of Magic, and how they can influence and mutate reality, with examples.

One thing stressed by the class: Do NOT attempt to wield multiple Winds at once. If you have to ask if you're skilled enough to do it, the answer is no. Multiple Winds mixing too closely creates dhar. Doing that within your own body causes all sorts of nasty maladies, ranging from limb necrosis to paranoid delusions. Dhar is seriously bad news. In fact, it's illegal to deliberately create or use. Accidents happen, so you need to take appropriate precautions and only cast when you're clearheaded enough to do so. As for actually studying or making use of it, repeat, DO NOT.

Yeah, she's pretty sure she can get by without limb necrosis and paranoid delusions in her life. She thanks her lucky stars she didn't pull in much but ulgu yesterday.

And... ah, so the fact that ulgu is attracted to boundaries is why it's so strong in the morning at sunrise. Interesting. 

She hurries out to get to her basic sword class. No time to cultivate contacts now.

Basic Sword is full of weedy teens and academic-looking people. They're going to use wooden practice swords, with a focus on stance and footwork. It becomes clear that this is a relatively 'easy' version of the class where the instructor doesn't push less-physically-fit people as hard.

She's insulted, but also thankful. She doesn't know which end of a sword is which and she's not in great shape physically if she's honest. There's only so much she can bull through with willpower, and she's already pushing twelve hour days. 

She trains with the weedy teens and doesn't complain.

After the groaning teens split apart to shower and get ready for the rest of their day, she has a chance for lunch and networking.

She's fatigued too, but at least has the consolation of having felt her stance and footwork and strikes come easier twice in a row. She's been watching the other students, and only a few have advanced as fast as her. It only seems right that she should be skilled at this as well. 

She eats in the dining hall. She doesn't feel like making conversation; she's starving, having had no breakfast and then learnt a physical skill atop that. 

There is lots of filling, reasonably tasty food, conveniently close to campus, in whichever dining hall she picks. The portions are not infinite, however.

The place gets quite loud during busy lunchtimes with everyone chattering and it all turning into an echo chamber in the fairly cavernous room. Her table is shared by a group of friends arguing over who of two people is hotter, and some sort of short green-skinned person wearing grease-covered overalls. There is some sort of altercation over by the drinks station.

She stays out of it. She has a headache and while the food is acceptable it's hardly the gourmet cooking she's grown used to since her ascension. Everything reminds her of how far she's fallen and it grates. 

She leaves as soon as she's finished eating and goes to Control Exercises early. 

Control Exercises is in a stone room similar to the one she did the aptitude test in. There are scorch marks everywhere.

"Oh, hello there!" Says a veritable fountain of aqshy, a man with hair like cinders.

"Hello! I'm here for Control Exercises, my first class so I thought I'd better get here ahead of time. Seems like there's a certain amount of excitement to be had here, hm?" She inclines her head towards the scorchmarks.

"Oh yes, oh yes! Aqshy is quite rambunctious, you have to be right on top of it. It's like carrying a lit torch through a maze made of kerosene soaked firewood sometimes! These are actually one on one, you know, it's the only real way to teach sorcery without someone exploding or turning an arm to mist or summoning a rotwyrm or something, and even then, well, look at my hair! Devilishly tricky business it is. Except for Hysh choirs, but we're not a pair of pansy Lights, are we, hm?"

He has wandered over to the door and pokes it. Some words appear on a small chalkboard with a faint tingling.

"Says here you're completely new to this, tactile metaphor, no theory yet. Okay, so today it'll be sensory acuity and basic gathering and shifting. Start early, finish early, sound alright?"

"Sounds fine to me. I'll try my best not to explode."

"Ser gut. Now don't try to imitate this, I'm just setting up a source for you-" With a weird multidimensional twist she can feel in her windsight, he bundles up quite a density of aqshy, somehow - crosses it over itself several times, bends it just so in a direction that doesn't exist, and then ties the whole thing off. Now there's a faceted pyramid within a sphere in hot sand on her skin. It's remarkably self contained, slowly leaking a steady amount of the Wind in question in the form of a sourceless candle flame hovering above the floor in front of her.

"The first principle is the breath. Don't try to influence it, just observe how your breathing affects it..."

She is mentally exhausted by the end of the session, but gained a level in Windsight and aqshy manipulation.

She is quietly smug about that.

She has an hour before her next class, now. She hauls herself over to where it will be held, finds a comfortable-ish seat, sets her internal timer, and nods off for a half hour. She's had to learn to sleep when she can get it, and now seems like a good time. She'll be woken by the traffic rush of the class change anyway even if she's lost her habit of half hour naps from too many fat years.

The classroom in question is actually in use already, and she's not permitted inside unless she's paying for the class. It lets out in forty five minutes.

She will sit down cross-legged with her back to the wall in the hallway outside and snatch what sleep she can.

Eventually her class is allowed in! There's six people in the class and they all seem pretty exuberant people in it, aqshy's nature making itself known. Apparently casting spells relies mostly on constructing the correct shape and mental state, though you can cheat and shortcut by using material components and hand gestures to 'lock down' certain portions of the spell. There's a fair bit of notation and structure to learn about even the simplest aqshy spell, Fireball, but Liath finds herself grasping it instinctively, and even getting bored by the time class finishes.

Cantrips class is similar, except the magic is even simpler and she could probably actually cast, say, Move, going by the practical exercises earlier, without any real risk.

She has a decent idea of just how volatile handling aqshy can be now; she doesn't take the risk. She's glad she has some lighter classes in her schedule after Basic Sword and Control Exercises.

She checks her schedule. Is this her supper break now?

Basic Tactics and Finance & Planning for Novice Adventurers are still to come, then a late dinner break, then another round of Control Exercises.

So she doesn't eat dinner till eight or so. Alright, she's a queen, she can manage. 

Basic Tactics seems like it ought to be an easy class, and Finance and Planning she has some background on. She can make it to dinner. And then another round of Control Exercises. Ugh. At least she'll be fresh(ish) after supper.

Basic Tactics isn't too hard! But the paradigm of Skills and magical arms and armor lead to a very different fighting style than anything involving automatic weapons and artillery. It's all new information.

(Though guns do seem to exist here, machine guns don't. And magical armor means they're not as oppressive a weapon as back home anyway.)

Finance and Planning is... Fairly easy actually, it goes over what kinds of expenses and revenue most adventurers can expect. The Guild charges pretty steep fees on all dungeon-diving. There are graphs of average delving depth and time return on investment versus risk of injury and death. It also only lasts two weeks, meeting just twice a week.

She takes note in her mental journal of where "artillery mage" seems to fit in the current scheme.

Finance and Planning bores her. But if she's only going to be subjected to four classes of this she can deal with it. It does give her a little more information on how adventuring careers work, and that's worth paying for. 

She goes to supper, stuffs her face (in a ladylike fashion), and shows up to Control Exercises psyched up and as ready as she's going to be this late in the day. She's going to need to use this when she's fatigued. Roll with it.

There's a note scrawled on paper and stuck to the door.

Do not enter - Laughing Flames inside. Class cancelled. Go to room 401 to meet M. Doubach for reschedule. Full refunds + 4c refundable to all studen accounts.

She exhales. 

Alright, let's do that then. And get her refund, she is not made of money.

M. Doubach is another Bright professor. She's apologetic, but well, these things do happen and they don't have an infinite number of warded practice rooms. The refund goes straight to her student account and after she glances over her schedule says that there isn't really any room in it to reschedule and it may be best to simply call today's session a wash.

She nods, tiredly. "Alright, thank you. I'll go put the time to use, in any case."

Let's see if she can track down Ancilla while she has some spare time. Control Exercises is a nice long block to go looking in.

With enough asking around she can hear things about this person!

"Ancilla Whitetail? She spends a lot of time on hobby clubs and student associations and fundraisers for charity, especially the Architecture Club."

"She's so great! She sponsored our historical society, you know, we're working to reconstruct artifacts from the 2nd Missilid War and rediscover lost cultural context and..."

"The Rabbit Princess? Just another rich kid living it up in college in my opinion. Has her own townhouse just a few blocks away and everything."

"Oh, Ancilla? I know her actually. But lots of people want to talk to her, so she has to pick somehow. She picks interesting people. Are you interesting?"

"Juat a spoilt rich kid learning to throw fireballs for a living," she deadpans. "There are probably ten of me in this university. Probably less when you only count the ones doing twelve hour class days."

The girl who says she knows Ancilla chuckles and taps her chin thoughtfully. "I'll pass it on. You'll get what you want one way or another if aqshy's any pattern, though. Maybe join the architecture club." And with a dismissive wave, she walks off.

Ugh.

She positively simmers at that dismissive wave. 

But if the Architecture Club is a good lead it's probably worth it. 

But when does it meet? 

She can look that up later; right now she has... Dungeon Jargon. Alright.

Dungeon Jargon is actually a single-meeting-only class. She has it once, and never again.

The common layout of a dungeon diving party is thus- Monster types can generally be divided into spacing/rushdown/projectile/grappler, in terms of how they attack. The general threat rankings go from E to A, then S, SS, and SSR. But most people will never see anything even so high as A rank. Dungeons somehow maintain certain levels of the Winds of Magic within them, but not infinite amounts - this is its level of "juice". 'Baiting the dungeon' is basically anything that makes the fights seem too easy, or acting too confident. It's generally considered a bad idea. Watch out for mimics!

So efficient casting matters as well. Got it. 

After that, she's free. And it's late. What's the time her last class lets out again?

9:30 PM.

Yeah she's going to head back to her room and take a shower and crash.

The forthcoming week proceeds as inevitably as time itself. She learns to cast cantrips. She learns to cast Fireball at the very end of the week, and is regarded as quite talented by her teachers. Some of her acquaintances seem to regard her as standoffish but impressive due to the very heavy workload.

She's done this before. Never subjected herself to it deliberately, but this grind of necessary work is no stranger to her. She gets up, she spars, she showers before lunch, she eats, she does her control exercises, she listens to her theory classes, she eats late, she does a second round of control exercises. She half-dozes through her last evening class and falls into bed afterwards. 

It's not all bad. She's learning magic. Some of the afternoon and evening classes are quite light. She's losing weight from all the sparring and her two-meals-a-day diet, and her Levels in sparring have brought her a kind of physical confidence she had only had in the bedroom before.

She's still miserable. She coils it up inside herself and stores it as resentment. She has it under control. It's only been a week, after all. 

Some of her acquaintances stop talking to her, as she steadily acquires the reputation of an ice-cold workaholic. The Winds of Magic class goes over the mysterious forces of Light and Dark, broadly associated to Selflessness and Selfishness, and other common forms of magical energy that are not the eight classical Winds.

Flaming Sword of Rhuin is an interesting spell. It conjures the item in its name, ephemeral and weightless but quite intimidating and deadly-looking, and perfectly able to slice a straw dummy in two while also setting it ablaze. The first cast of a new spell is always the most dangerous, as even to an iron-willed sorceress the Winds are capricious and whimsical, but she successfully aborts the magic the first time it threatens to tear free of her grasp, and it works on the second.

Oh, yes. This? This is what she meant by "reclaiming her birthright."

(And now she doesn't have to buy a sword!)

Her theory classes have much to teach her on the Winds' tendencies and structures, and common mistakes to avoid when casting. Her schedule has to be adjusted slightly due to how quickly she's advancing. The student advisor wonders whether she wants to slow down any? She's burning through theory, too, and placed in a higher level swordfighting class, and more of her time now spent on those exhausting control exercises with less on theory.

The next spell on the list is Hearts Afire. Far more metaphorical an application of magic than before, but aqshy is nothing if not passion, and it will empower her and her allies with courage and fighting spirit, as well as potent resistance against fear and terror effects, of which there are a considerable number. The problem is, the structure of magic must hang upon her very breast and radiate outward from there, without being disturbed by the roiling fire that builds within as she casts. This proves... Problematic. It takes two extra practice sessions above and beyond the ones she has daily to finally nail down, and multiple times there is nearly a conflagration within her, saved only by hastily expelling the Winds and creating a few new scorch marks.

It's been three weeks, and her focus has been suffering under accumulated background resentment. She masters it in the end, though her extra practice sessions cut into her sleep. She makes up some of it by eating quickly in her food breaks and snatching naps before her control exercises. 

She wants to hurt someone.

Her professors are mostly happy to keep supervising and teaching her as she presses ever onward, despite her clear strain.

The Aqshy's Aegis would be the final tool in her basic sorcerous toolkit: A defense. A shield of flame made solid, able to block blows and harm that which dared to attack her.

...Maybe it's her increasing strain and distraction, her desire to hurt at odds with the purpose of protection. Maybe it would have happened anyway as a sheer matter of luck. Regardless, the first time she casts the Aegis for real - it all goes horribly wrong.

Instead of forming the fifteen beautiful strands that together project a smooth shell, the magic tangles inside her. Her professor's eyes widen and he reaches out to grab at her sternum where the energy is twisting, turning into a vortex, but it's too late already, as aqshy does what it always wants to do - and becomes fire.

Her insides are on fire. For four long seconds until the professor grasps the errant energy and tears it free, straight into the ceiling, she burns.

Even once the miscast is removed, the damage remains. It is... Excruciating. She can't move. She can't breathe. Her windsight is full of pain.

She doesn't black out until the professor starts performing CPR. Then, she wakes up in a hospital room.

She blinks, stirs a little in her bed. She remembers... pain, incredible burning pain in the core of her... and then she blacked out. Did she die? 

... no, she's still in pain. She lived, then. This is... a hospital...?

This is a hospital. It's a fantasy-themed hospital, with glowing self-contained enchantments instead of  computer readouts, but it's a hospital. She's in a blue hospital gown, her chest - whole upper body really - is bandaged up, and her battledress is folded on the chair next to the bed. There is a call button next to the bed, too.

... It's coming back now. The miscast. 

She presses the call button.

It's barely thirty seconds before a nurse comes in - A Drake. He smiles at her.

"How are you feeling, miss Liath? You've had a miscast. Do you remember?"

"I recall. That was... the worst sensation I've ever felt. How long was I out?" 

And... "What do I owe for the healing?"

"You were out for about fourteen hours. It's the next morning now. You don't owe anything. Immediate treatment for miscasts are covered if they occur during supervised control exercises, it's part of the course fees. I'd say you're coming out of it remarkably well, actually - no permanent damage, no Arcane Mark. Not very pleasant, but hardly the worst result of a miscast we've seen. How's your pain? The burn treatments should have taken care of most of it, but your skin will likely be sensitive for a while now."

"I'm doing shockingly well all things considered. Like a five out of ten for pain. Can I have something to eat?"

She is pretty out of fucks to give at this point. She set fire to her insides and lived, everything after this is gravy. She's still flinching away from the searing pain in her memory but that can be dealt with later. She shoves it down again. She's starving. 

"Sure. Soup or sandwich? That's what we've got here. You should be good to head out soon, I'll have someone in to check and get those bandages off in a bit. Would you like to talk to the doctor or a therapist?

"Sandwich, please. I'd also like to talk to a therapist, thank you."

She needs an outside perspective on her plans going forwards.

She gets her sandwich.

Her therapist is a cat-woman. She gives the standard confidentiality-barring-life-threatening-situations speech then asks what Liath wants to talk about, if anything.

"Mainly I want to talk about what the best way to handle fear of miscasts going forwards is. Should I be getting right back on the horse, or do you recommend something more gentle?"

"That depends a lot on what kind of person you are. But one thing to remember is that for almost all sorcerers, especially those who push themselves, miscasts are not a possibility. They are an inevitability. What were you feeling when you miscast? Were there any outside conditions you could control to make it less likely?"

"I was feeling... Resentment, at the world for having put me in a corner where I'm forced to work twelve hour days. That'd been building for three weeks; I can handle it, I can deal with it, I just don't enjoy it. I don't think anyone enjoys that kind of workload. I had just about gotten to the point at which I wanted to hurt someone. ...recreationally, preferably... I'm just digging myself deeper here aren't I?"

"I'm not sure what you mean by digging yourself deeper, but I've seen that sustained high stress is not good for people in any number of ways. It's not just unpleasant - the stress makes you think confrontationally, irrationally, it makes you leap to faster and easier seeming answers, it makes you get frustrated with your work more easily and degrades creativity. In the long run, more hours worked does not even necessarily lead to more work being done. You may be able to 'handle it', but are you doing the same quality of work you would be doing if you worked eight hour days and took some time to relax and do things you enjoy?"

Liath... finds herself nodding. Oh, it's easy to nod along to someone saying she should give herself more breaks, that's just self-indulgence, but the quality of work argument is sound. And she doesn't need to be that hurried, does she? She's ahead of schedule already - in the advanced class for sword work and knows how to call up Flaming Sword of Rhuin - And she'll get Aqshy's Aegis, she's close -

"I think I should talk very seriously to my program advisor," she says. "And see if I can adjust my program to something closer to three months."

"I think that would be a good idea. As far as I know, you can adjust your class schedule at any time. If nobody mentioned this to you already, well, this place is full of workaholics." The therapist smiles wryly. "I wish more people listened to that advice when I give it."

"Having a brush with your mortality changes things. I'm not going to let this stop me. But maybe... I don't have to charge into it, sword drawn, you know?"

Nod, nod. "If you're dead or burnt out you can't do whatever it is you're setting out to do... And sorcery can do that to you if you're not careful."

"Yeah." She smiles. "Thanks for the advice, I think that's what I needed to hear. Can you send someone to attend to the bandages so I can go back to my rooms?"

"Of course, I'll get a nurse in here to discharge you. Here's my card if you want another session - though I will have to charge next time."

The therapist goes. A different nurse from before comes in, checks the bandages, removes them and tells her she's good to go, though she should keep in mind the soreness will continue for a day or two and her skin will be more tender and easily-marked for about the same.

She changes back into her battledress, and sees about finding her dorms again. She would like to collapse for a little while someplace private.

The hospital is on the opposite site of campus from her dorm room.

Three different people ask if she's alright.

"I'm fine," she says. "No permanent damage, though you'd better believe I'm thinking hard about reducing my twelve-hour class schedule. So maybe you guys will see me around more!"

They all agree that'll be nice and maybe they can go drinking or something.

Maybe they can do that, sure. 

(Feels like a chore.) 

She goes back to her room and flops into bed. Her skin stings. 

She probably should cancel her classes for today. 

She lies in bed for fifteen minutes, then gets herself up and moving again. 

She doesn't know what to do with herself if she isn't working. She can't take the whole day off. 

... She could get another meal at least. Maybe look for a sub. 

She goes and eats an early lunch and allows herself a small break.

No subs make themselves obvious to her. Nobody talks to her at all in the cafeteria, unless she initiates.

She goes looking for the architecture club.

People are happy to point her to the Architecture Club. Fittingly enough, it's in a very nice building, with features designed to encourage studying and awe. Open space, lots of glass, high ceilings, lots of light, a subtle grandeur to the decorations that says Money, but in an understated sort of way. This could almost be one of the less-decorated rooms in her palace. And it's one that seems to house a whole bunch of other clubs as well - but Architecture Club has the best and largest spot, an entire wing really.

The front of the Architecture Club is blocked by a smiling teen at a reception desk. She says they're always happy to see new people interested in the most important and impactful club on campus, the one concerned with the design of the very spaces around them! Would she like a tour?

"Why yes, I would love a tour." 

The Architecture Club has even more money. There are magical tables for mocking up room and facade designs that must be absurdly expensive, with people arguing over designs over one of them and changing things every few sentences. There's a fancy cafeteria, well stocked, just for the Club. There's an art gallery, and several workrooms nicely equipped for drafting, model-making, and so on. There's a... Ballroom, almost, half lecture hall and half space for a party, with lots of effort put into making it grand. The Club is currently not too crowded, and the people here talk to her with a quiet superiority. Oh yes, she should become a member, and eventually she'll be an important member, like them...

Familiar territory, if not expected in a university. 

She would indeed like to become a member. May she use one of these tables for a moment, she has a design she'd like to show off though she's not certain she knows the controls on these very fancy tables. Was this space designed by the Architecture Club, incidentally?

She can use this smaller one off to the side where someone has left a diagram of fortifications in place.

Well, it was designed by Ancilla Whitetail, which surely counts, or so they think.

That certainly counts. She sketches up a diagram of her own winter palace back in the world before. It's in an Art Deco style with plenty of natural light let in. She had always thought it was fetching.

The table is not that easy to use, but someone used to computers can figure it out. They seem vaguely disappointed she didn't have any trouble, then investigate the new style, muttering.

"Looks a bit like Demacian doesn't it?"

"Not really, that's all white and blue. And it has the straight lines, but Demacian doesn't do repeating patterns like this. More like Faldor, right?"

"Look at the contrast here, splayed out in a sunrise motif, but with all these sharp edges and nearly parallel lines."

"If anything it's Eastern, just look at the square patterns-"

"Where is this from? Is it an actual building?"

"It's my own," she says, entirely truthfully since after all she comissioned it. "Is it particularly good?"

"It's not bad, but clearly very foreign. Some elements seem a bit oddly designed."

"Probably a difference in common materials. The same kind of wood is used all over, see- There's nothing wrong with it."

"And it manages to enitce a sort of hopeful energy, I think. Partly the openness, partly the colors, partly the straight lines with clear destinations making things seem clear..."

"I think people would be very interested in seeing more pieces in this style, at least. It'd be a fine start."

"I have one other like it," she says, "If you would like to have a look?" 

If they assent, she puts up her Summer Palace, which is older and thus closer to the building methods these people would know. It still has a bit of Art Deco style to it though.

They like this one too, and comment on the differences between the two.

"Would you like to work with one of the sculptors some time? Having a physical model of these would be good, I think."

"I would love to." She probably knows enough about the construction of these two to fake her way through.

"Great! I'll ask around. You can just leave this on the table for now, eventually someone will wipe it but people can take a look until that happens, get them interested. Would you like to officially join the club, then? We only charge dues after the first month, and this way we can send you a letter when a sculptor wants to try it out."

"Certainly! Though I would like to hear what the dues are. Can you take them from my student account?"

"We have papers you can turn in at the office to allow it. Dues are a silver a month, though many people donate more, of course."

She nods. "I'd like those papers, please. And then I'd like to look around at some of the latest designs."

"They're at the front desk. Gallery's this way- Maybe you can settle my argument with Lisa over Grail Church vs Demacian influences..."

"I'm not educated in the styles, but I can give you my uninformed opinion." 

She prefers Grail Church influences to Demacian ones, personally. This may or may not be enough to resolve the argument.

The argument is actually about whether they're related to each other, or just convergent memetic evolution. Both parties believe in their pet theory rather passionately. She serves well as an uninformed sounding board and mediator, at any rate.

And gains a level in architecture and one in... Comparative analysis? Something like that, anyway. It's hard to pin down.

She thinks it's convergent evolution, since she's come up with this third style on her own and yet it bears marked similarities. 

The levels are appreciated. She tries to sketch up something original and Art Deco on another free board if one's available.

The magic 3D modeling tables are all either in use or marked as 'do not erase' but there are slightly-less magic whiteboards she can draw on, with convenient straightedges and tools she doesn't know how to use to help with perspective. A fellow drafter idly gives her a few basic tips before going back to her own work.

Using those tips gets her a level in drafting! Now she does know how to use them.

She erases and starts over now that she has the rudiments. 

Some time can pass quite pleasantly like this.

Eventually there's a susurrus in the room. A tall figure in a really rather elaborate dress has entered.

She is... A humanoid rabbit. With a big yellow parasol, a long, ornate sword at her hip fluffy tail, and clothes that combine elegance and the dashing look of an explorer.

"Hello, darlings," she addresses the room at large. "So glad to see passion here, as always. I hear someone brought up a new style, and I'd just love to see it."

She turns from the board, curtsies in good noble style from her homeland, smiles. She gestures to the board and steps aside so Ancilla (it must be Ancilla) can see. She'll be investigated in due time, first she must set the hook.

Ancilla looks over her drafting with a faint smile. "Charming! It's hopeful, reaching higher, is it not? Where is this style from?"

"It's mine. I apologize if my form of address is improper."

"Oh, we don't stand on ceremony here." Lie. But... Maybe half of one? Maybe she's confused. "I am Ancilla Whitetail, head of the Architecture Club. That's all, at the moment. And who are you?"

"Liath, noble brat of a lost family, now a Bright Sorceress in training."

Her polite smile falters at 'bright sorceress'. "Aha. A tale as old as time. The candle that burns twice as bright dies twice as fast, but I wish you well in your career throwing fire at things. Let me know if you manage to come up with a well-developed project proposal in that style and we could see if it could be made reality. Lovely to meet you."

Ancilla turns to go.

She lets her go. If she's going to be turned off by "Bright Sorceress" then she isn't so interesting after all.

She goes back to drawing on the board.

A few others chat with her about architecture for as long as she'd like to stay. The day passes.

She stays around until it gets towards supper, then goes and has supper. 

This is good. Having some time to herself is good. 

After supper she goes to talk to her class supervisor about reducing things down to an eight hour day. Can she stretch things to three months on her current budget if she takes the same classes strung out more? 

And she investigates to see what other clubs there are on campus. 

...She's going to need more money. Given her performance and very high growth rate (something they track and do all sorts of analysis on, scoring teachers and such - she's 97th percentile after normalization for hours in class), it's entirely possible she'll qualify for a student loan.

She would be interested in student loans, yes. Would another gold cover it?

Another gold would more than cover her for an additional month - the price difference is just her room and food, really. She could stretch it out to three and a half months total on another gold. The loan office is on the third floor.

Half a gold, then?

That would give her three months with all the progress she originally wanted to cram into two!

She will go ask for a loan of half a gold upstairs, then.

Hmm well given her performance and everything... No prior records or history of her... What is her plan to repay the school's money (and interest), exactly? Would she be willing to state under lie detection that she fully intends to pay back the loan and does not anticipate this changing?

She intends to dungeon delve in order to raise the money. If something better comes along she'll do that. But she has an idea of what kind of earnings she could make from delving, and seven silver is not much compared to it.

Yes, alright, dungeon diving will earn her plenty of money. Unless she dies. She can have half a gold loaned to her at 55% annual interest rate compounded monthly with a 5c flat fee on top of that to cover the paperwork. She can have up to one and a half gold total this way, actually, if she wants to buy adventuring gear with it. So long as she swears under lie detection that she really does intend to pay it back.

She'll have one gold and swear under lie detection that she intends to pay it back.

Excellent! It's added to her student account. There's no fee to withdraw money from her physical account if she needs any to go shopping with later.

First she'll go back down to admissions and confirm her three-month program; then she'll withdraw some of the remainder and go buy herself a physical sword, as a backup.

Plenty of places are eager to sell her a physical sword! Enchanted ones are expensive. Ones customized to your grip and balance are also fairly expensive. Swinging a Flaming Sword, a practice sword, and a real blade around are all somewhat different, though the Skills she has help with that. A few hours of shopping around and trying different blades will get her one for 1 silver 8 copper. A matching sheath is another 4 copper.

She'll take the blade and sheath. 

Now she should go investigate the local Adventurer's Guild. What are their fees like? 

Pretty steep (10s/month membership, taking 25% of all your proceeds), but from her Finance class she knows she can make it up in, like, a week's work tops if she goes in every day.

She's going to go sleep, wake up in the morning, go back to her classes and everything will be normal. Except her new schedule. 

What to do with all that free time?

Perhaps she'll look into clubs again.

The other clubs with space in Ancilla's big building do cartography, economics, paper and balsawood gliders, painting, pottery, mathematics, history, political debates, and something complicated and almost computery-sounding with wizardry (the other main branch of magic that she hasn't looked deeply into). There's a student theater in a different building, various study groups, a Student Craftsmen Cooperative that sells cheap stuff made by students.

Is there a study group for Bright Sorcerers, or are there not enough of them?

There's a Bright Sorcerer social club - with an advisory not to bring anything too flammable.

She makes a note of it. She'll turn up there tomorrow after her classes, see what's going on.

Her teachers and classmates welcome her back and tell her not to be too discouraged by a miscast! Happens to everyone.

The social club takes place in the hall with the warded practice rooms. It's a larger room, with stone walls and floor and furniture, but none of the subtle string-lines of protective enchantments she can faintly feel on her skin in the practice rooms. It's really warm in there.

There's someone whose hair is fire, literally, someone with eyes that seem lit from behind, someone whose left arm is covered in flaky ash and cinders, and five relatively unmarked people. There's a table with a variety of alcoholic beverages and a few non-alcoholic ones. Two of the group are wrestling in the back of the room while the others float between watching and drinking more booze and chatting about apparently random things.

"Hey, new girl!"

"It's the- Liath, the talent."

"Welcome, welcome, pull up a chair and have a drink."

She pulls up a chair and drinks. She smiles. "Yes, I'm Liath. Glad somebody's heard of me. Can I get a round of introductions?"

"You learned three spells in three weeks from a cold start. In a year you'll be Magister level if you don't blow yourself up first."

"And a crying shame it would be. You've got the drive, and the attitude. Fine example of a bright."

"Gregory," Ash-arm woman says, pointing. "Antimony, Alex, Jeanne, Mendrei, Cassie, Sergei. And I'm Othala."

She smiles, a little deeper than she means to, and settles a little further into the chair. Praise like this is like catnip to her. "Nice to meet everyone."

"Yeah, I'm reducing my class hours back down to eight a day after that miscast, think I was pushing myself a bit too hard there. And normally I wouldn't say this, but you all seem the types to appreciate it - I'm on the dating market if anyone is interested." She knocks back her drink, grins. "Now let me hear some war stories."

"I'm on the market for sex with any other Bright," Jeanne cheerfully replies. "Not so much dating but hit me up."

"Several of us can appreciate attractive and confident women," Sergei comments. "As for war stories, there is the time Othala started a forest fire-"

"Oi oi oi oi I'll have you know they thanked me for it. Zombie army? Burnt to a crisp!"

Liath laughs. "I'll certainly consider it. And go on, tell me about this zombie army."

Othala is too enthusiastic with sound effects to be a particularly good storyteller, and the others gently rib her about it. She creates flames above her head to demonstrate particularly enthusiastic moments of the battle, like the double-sweep phoenix claws she used on the necromancer in charge of the whole mess.

The others tell their own war stories soon after. Some about miscasts, some about enchanting things, most about fights they got into.

She soaks it all up appreciatively. This tells her a lot about what the life of a Bright is like, and surprisingly she's more attached to being a Bright than a noblewoman by now. It's still her birthright, her talent. And it's so much simpler than petty politics. 

She keeps an eye on how much she drinks, doesn't let anyone press too much on her. She tells the story of her recent miscast, such as it is. She asks Jeanne straight out whether she enjoys pain in bed, and doesn't mind what rumours may spread. 

Nobody reacts especially strongly to the pain thing. Nobody tries to press more drink on her more than halfheartedly.

"Hmmm. HMMMMM." She looks Liath up and down. "I mean, sure, you're hot. Depends how intense you get, maybe I'm up for that. Can you take it at all, or just dish it out?"

"I used to whip people. Don't have a whip right now, but I'd scratch you up, maybe some general rough treatment, slapping, spanking. I can take light punishment. Haven't been whipped personally."

"Yeah, we can blow off steam together. My room. All my shit's fireproofed, it's nice."

"Let's, then. I've been working twelve hour days for almost a month now and I need to vent."

"Hah. Take it out on me, intense is fun until it's not." Jeanne's room is in a much nicer building than Liath's. It's a whole suite. Lots of things are decorated with red. She strips naked with a little dance, then looks at Liath expectantly. "Come and get me."

She's good at this, and doesn't hurt Liath back much.

She comes and gets her. She's surprisingly delicate and precise, a little artful in the way she trails her nails down Jeanne's skin. Then she really engages, and gets to enjoy Jeanne's voice hitting a different note. 

Liath is attentive, and makes sure Jeanne gets to climax in exchange for her suffering. Personally, she's satisfied just with the ability to vent all her frustrations. She takes an orgasm if offered, though. 

Afterwards, she smiles, kisses Jeanne's brow, thanks her for the lovely encounter. And then she's off, feeling much better. She thinks she'll check out the Architecture club again.

Architecture club is open to her. The fellow architecture clubpeople are somewhat less open and friendly than before.

Predictable. But she'll persevere. She has the manners and the raw charisma, and she's got her unique architectural style as an in. Worth some recreational messing-around at least. 

Some people express interest and ask questions but nobody offers to sculpt or commission for her.

She maintains her polite façade but she can tell that Ancilla's already set the temperature of the room. 

It's annoying as hell. She finds herself tapping her foot - at which point she excuses herself. 

The day's over by then; she goes back to bed. 

Tomorrow, more classes, more time with the social club. She's still a lot less wound up than she was before. Jeanne was nice. 

Her control exercises teacher thinks she's ready to try Aqshy's Aegis again, if she feels ready.

She feels ready. She still wants to grab for as much of her birthright as she can.

This time, she holds the strands steady as she forms them one by one. First on one side, then another, then a third, then back to the first side. Balanced so they reinforce each other as the spell builds, and once complete, drawing a swell of aqshy into the center, that lenses out and-

A wall of semi-transparent flickering orange appears above her. The edges are wobbly and mirage-like, and it's a constant drain on focus and aqshy to sustain, but this is the form of the shield spell.

Excellent.

Back to work. And... she'd like to check out the history club after classes today.

The history club, fittingly enough, mostly consists of a small library. There is tea and snacks and people quietly reading. One of them asks if she's new.

She is new, yes. Not just to the club, but to history. She's never really studied it. What's their favorite subjects?

Their favorite subjects in... All of history? Well, this one studies the history of Demacia, including its downfall to the 15th Demon Lord (at least, the 15th since the fall of the Dwarves). This one studies maritime warfare and ship design. This one is trying to make the oral history of Mousefolk reconcile with the more well-established records of Human and Drake polities.

She'll listen more about the fall of Demacia.

The way their society was set up, obsessed with purity and discipline and purpose, made it remarkably well suited for fighting against a Demon Lord that would attack directly with overwhelming force. However, the Demon Lord found another way, twisting and corrupting the minds of high-level Demacian leaders, letting their growing paranoia and obsessions ruin the Demacian war effort and eventually cost the trust of their people. Reinforcements were directed straight into traps. Fortress-cities were cut off from communication and hope, and became irrelevant even if they held out.

Cunning. Something to learn from, there. What did the Hero try to do in response, or do they know?

The Hero at the time was off adventuring somewhere else, attempting to create a now-legendary artifact called the Dawnstone. Using the Dawnstone, they eventually killed the Demon Lord, but only after almost 2 more years of war. Demacia, among other places, was almost completely destroyed. Records, material, and people. Not least of which because most Demacians fought to the last to resist the Demon Lord. It ceased to exist as a polity and is only loosely a cultural identity. Tragic, really.

Indeed. And what happened to the Dawnstone?

Used as a trophy/weapon/badge of office by various people, eventualy vanishes from history, possibly while in the possession of an awakened golem pirate, or possibly after being stolen by a dragon, or maybe something else. It's REALLY not clear. The historical record is lamentably incomplete.

Shame. Any more recent history they'd like to talk about?

These guys are pretty much all students of the old stuff, though one of them knows about the history of Liscor-the-city? It's been around for a while! At least two demon lords! Granted, the city got razed to the ground both times, but the army came and built it again later.

She'd like to hear about Liscor's history! The more modern the better, but she'll take what she can get.

She can hear ALL ABOUT the ancient era where Drakes ruled the whole region and Liscor was the gateway city against invasion. Then there was the Ant Wars, and the 31st (recorded) Demon Lord, and the discovery of three ancient dungeons underneath Liscor, and the exodus of the Gnolls, and the growing acceptance of humans in Liscor, even if they're still uncommon in drakelands to the south.

Wonderful! She'll listen along and thank her interlocutor afterwards. And then she'll amble out. 

Is she up to the political debate club right now? She doesn't think so. To sleep.

The next week of classes goes smoothly for her. With the delay on learning her last spell and slower pace, she doesn't learn a new one this week. Though she continues to learn more about the theory of the Winds of Magic, including the more metaphorical associations for each and general descriptions of some of each Wind's common spells.

She has a letter pushed through her dorm room's mail slot on Friday.

To Miss Liath (Bright)-

This notice has been sent to you due to a combination of high-percentile scoring in Liscor Academy and recommendations from one or more teachers. You are invited to an interview with a view towards possible recruitment at the Wall Club Adventurer's Association. Our goal at the Wall Club is to gather the most talented and skilled young people and form highly effective dungeon-diving and mercenary teams. If you are interested, simply present this letter at the door.

Signed, Quern the Unbroken, Leader

There is an address at the bottom.

Oh excellent.

She asks after the Wall Club at the clubs department after class that day.

They're not really a university thing. They're a semifamous mercenary organization with some kind of arrangement with the Adventurer's Guild. They have a really old building built right up next to the wall on the south side.

She goes over there and presents her letter.

The Drake doorman is happy to escort her to a nice waiting room, coincidentally past a bunch of portraits and trophies of famous mercenaries who he casually talks about.

Tessamine Calendar, Amethyst Mage and wielder of shyish, will see her now! She has a slightly unsettling air about her, she speaks slowly, and seems a bit too pale.

"Bright young spark. You seem headed for great heights. If your ambitions are compatible with ours... Both you and our organization can go further. So what are they?"

"I want to be looked up to and respected." Liath says, her voice firm and hard. "I want to have a voice that commands attention. Instead, I have student loans and no-one else to rely on." She lets a little bitterness leak into her voice. 

"Everything anyone does for you in this world incurs a debt. The kindness of strangers is remarkably limited. If you joined the Wall, we would support you and see you grow in strength safely, but there are dues to be paid."

"I understand that. I would hardly be your ally if I was never there for you, would I? Bonds of comradeship are strongest, I've found."

She nods. "There is a beginning, progression, and end to all things. The bonds forged in strife are the most chaotic, but dearest to our hearts. Have you questions for me?"

"I think you've been quite clear," says Liath. "I have no questions."

"Come back... Tomorrow. At noon. For a test. We want a read on your personality and style, not just your Skills. After that, we'll have something for you to sign, with a stipend, and once that's done we'll equip you and do a supervised dungeon run once you're ready, to blood you. And then, you'll be part of the Wall." She smiles.

She smiles back. "I can't wait."

Tessamine nods expressionlessly and picks up a book from her desk, apparently dismissing her.

She goes back the way she came, and goes directly to her advisor and cancels everything but her morning sparring practice for the next day.

She doesn't get a refund if she cancels midway through a class with no notice, she could just miss a class and let her teachers know, but if she insists?

Oh, she'll just miss a class. Sorry. Got carried away there.

Student Services is here to help!

She goes and informs her teachers, then goes to the library and looks up the Wall Club.

They're a fully accredited mercenary group with an only slightly spotty reputation. They have about 300 members who generally get honed up to at least C-rank levels of threat, and three suspected A-rank fighters, one who might manage to edge into S-rank, making them fairly legendary. They'll abandon the job to save their own skins, but wouldn't everyone do that, really? Liscor hires them sometimes, farming out mercenary contracts. The human polities to the north hire them sometimes, usually to either to stand around looking menacing to a rival, or go clear out a specific problematic monster. Drake nations even hire them sometimes.

She reads up on more of the details, but relatively little of it is relevant to the immediate question of how to pass her test tomorrow. Still, it's something.

She goes to bed and sleeps. In the morning she'll do her sword class, then head over to her test.

When she arrives the same doorman as before tells her the first part of the test takes place outside of city limits, and shows her to a carriage. She is supposed to stay inside until they reach the testing area, please.

... Alright then. She gets in the carriage.

Several mercenaries greet her with waves and smiles before settling into an escort position ahead and behind the carriage. Lindley Harlane, human, Foreguard, tank. Nox Matiren, human, Back-mid, archer. Zalgyn Gerrit, winged drake, support, wizard.

Zalgyn's pale blue scales and white teeth glitter in the sun as she asks, "You nervous, embers?"

"Who wouldn't be? But I've got the bit in my teeth now."

"That's the spirit!"

The doorman acts as the driver, no horses are apparently needed. The three mercs all keep up with a pace well above jogging without apparent effort.

It's a peaceful ride through the city and then the single road through the mire of lakes and streams and swamp outside.

Until there's a warning shout, two loud thunks, and the carriage jerks to the side and crashes into a ditch. The little window showing the front is splattered with mud and blood.

She can hear Zalgyn screaming outside. Possibly in pain, possibly in rage. There's a loud screaming whine, and an explosion.

Oh really?

She rights herself in the fallen cabin. 

Okay, assume this is a genuine attack. Then she can't fight what's coming at her and she shouldn't try. Her job is to 1: not die and 2: not make the others come rescue her. 

Should she stay in the cab? She was asked to stay in the cab. But those are stupid orders when there are explosions flying around. 

She calls up Aqshy's Aegis and gets the door with it leading. 

There is a horrible black and ichorous monstrosity, like a cross between a scorpion, centipede, and dragon. The tank is holding it to the ground by one leg and fighting off three other limbs trying to kill her. The archer is firing arrows so fast his hands are blurs. The winged drake is circling up above and constructing something that stings in her windsight and is saturating the air with magic.

She can't fight that alone, but she can help. Aqshy's Aegis for the tank, quick scan of the area for anything else trying to kill them. She has to trust that the winged drake's spell will do some serious damage.

The Winds of Magic are tumultuous and hard to grasp; She's forced to cast from the aqshy that has come to accumulate within her. For a moment it looks like it's going to twist away from her, but that passes.

Nothing else appears to be trying to kill them. The wizard's spell is a searingly bright meteor of a thing, and makes the same scream-then-explosion as before. If she's looking at it she will probably be temporarily blinded.

Yep, she's looking at it.

There's more shouting and noise.

By the time her vision recovers, there is no longer any sign of the monster and the three mercs plus the driver are standing nearby.

"Liath? You are safe. We were never under attack."

She shakes her head to clear the last of it, nods. "I expected that, but. Risk was too great. Had to take it seriously."

"Yes," the tank says softly. "I think you did one thing right, one thing questionably, and one thing wrong. Can you tell me about it?"

She thinks for a moment. "I think it was wrong to get involved in the fight. I didn't know how to interface with your party and it ended up blinding me and making me worse than useless. It would have been better to stay in the carriage than that. It was questionable to cast spells because of the risk of a miscast in the difficult conditions that could potentially outright kill me. Anything Aqshy's Aegis could hold off, you could hold off, but if there were a bunch of smaller threats I wanted to be sure. And I think it was right for me to get out of the carriage, even against orders, because I had to know if those orders still made sense and it was my own skin at risk. I think. I'm less confident than I sound, here. I'm worrying that I've failed the whole thing just by getting out of the carriage."

"Actually, I think your big mistake was watching something you knew was a high-powered attack. Blind and confused is not a good state to be in. Getting out of the carriage to check the situation was reasonable - casting at all was mostly reasonable, and casting something to help me without getting directly involved was a bit questionable. In a real fight, it could have confused me and made me hesitate. Just remember that 'do nothing' is an option in a fight."

"Call it 'biding your time' if it makes you feel better. Casting buffs and otherwise staying out of it is a good instinct," the archer says, "And we can deal with surprises, I'd say, actually." The tank shrugs.

"You haven't failed the whole thing," the winged drake says. "The point here was to see how you react in a legitimate-seeming deadly situation. We're going to make detailed reports, and combine it with the rest of the test."

She nods. "Back into the carriage, then?"

"Back into the carriage."

It's not even in the ditch. That must have been one powerful illusion.

They come to a large hill sticking out of the general mire before too long. There are a variety of wooden obstacles set up, like something you'd see in military training courses, or possibly overly dramatic gameshows. A wall with rope, monkey bars, raised platforms with gaps, rope nets, and the like. Nobody else is here except the doorman and the three mercs.

"Right! You'll be going through this course until we're satisfied. This is the second part. After this we'll have a nice lunch and a break as we go back to the city, for a theoretical exercise and final interview." 

"Alright." This is going to be gruelling, but her birthright will protect her. She steps up to the first obstacle and waits for the signal.

"Ah, ah, ah! You're not ready yet."

They pull out of the carriage's baggage compartment, a heavy looking suit of chainmail armor, shirt and pants and metal boots, gauntlets, and helmet. The tank smiles sunnily at her while holding up the helmet.

She just nods and accepts it. She had been thinking this was too easy.

They help her don the armor. It fits nicely over her battledress. They assure her it won't hurt her clothes and that they know what her Skills and stats are, so they know exactly what she is capable of and where that capability ends.

It is HEAVY. Even just walking is a bit of a strain like this, even if her strength has increased in solid jumps at least twice since she got here. The boots limit how she can step. It's hard to make a fist through the gauntlets. The helmet blocks her peripheral vision.

The first challenge is simply to climb onto a waist-high platform in the armor.

She can do this. Brace with her arms, lift her leg, get her knee up, follow with the second one -

She's up!

There are plenty more challenges. They leave her breathing hard and sweating, muscles straining. It would be lovely to just lie down and rest.

(She definitely gained a level in something somewhere in there. Possibly several. It's likely they made things harder when that happened, since she's still struggling just as much, but now she's jumping from platform to platform in armor and not falling into the mud more than twice.)

She's barely begun. She shoves down her exhaustion, covers it in a layer of anger, and keeps going. This reminds her of her first few rounds of sparring exercises, before she adapted and her birthright kicked in. She's stronger now, and been through more. She still remembers the tearing pain of her miscast, and she lived through that. She'll live through this.

The mercs aren't showing it, but they're impressed. They expected her to complain and give up long since.

Eventually, they give her a task that is, clearly, simply... Impossible. She cannot climb a sheer wall in armor without using the rope. It's just not going to happen.

She gamely attempts it, but she can't get a handhold on the slick wall. She gives it five or six attempts with no progress before she looks at the mercs with an expression that says really?

"Finally giving up, embers?"

"Might want to try it without the damned heavy armor, but as is this ain't gonna happen." She wipes sweat from her brow.

They look at each other.

The blue-scaled caster bursts out laughing.

The archer shakes his head. "Not one complaint out of you, the whole time. Your will is abundantly clear. Let's get you out of that and get a restorative in you. You can shower back at base too."

"Thank you," she says relievedly. She takes off her helmet, runs a hand through her hair, and starts in on the rest of her outfit.

"We all had to do the same thing. Scales here spent the whole time complaining that he was a wizard and he didn't need to be able to move in armor."

They help with the armor. The tank hands her a cup of something vibrant green that smells like the most aggressive pine-flavored air freshener she's ever smelled.

She drinks without complaint. This is not the hard part.

It tastes like mouthwash mixed with kerosene.

The ache in her muscles vanishes nigh-instantly, replaced by the tautness of intense exercise. The heaviness of her limbs is gone. She's now wide awake and alert, and no longer feels so hot, though she's still sweaty. She feels like she could start running around again.

They nudge her back into the carriage, where a nice meal matching the kinds of things she tends to eat in the dining halls, but higher quality, is waiting.

Ew. But worth it. She steps into the carriage and accepts her meal. 

They let her shower and freshen up back inside the walls.

The final part of the test is a personality-quiz like questionnaire, except they're all essay questions. The leader is knocked out and the second in command is making an obvious blunder, do you follow orders or...? You are hired to assist a city with a siege however you can, what do you do? Etc.

She recognizes the value of doing something, even the wrong thing, and in the wake of a commander being knocked out it's important to preserve party unity, but nonetheless she would not allow the commander to make an obvious blunder; she'd point out the reason it wouldn't work, propose an alternate plan if she had one, and if ordered to her death simply refuse. Lesser blunders she'd go along with. She's not familiar with seige warfare but she'd try to insert agents, stir discontent and disunity in the enemy army, use fear tactics, maybe even sally if the odds were for her. The supply of the beseiging army is of paramount importance and efforts should be made to destroy it. 

She continues on in this vein, doing her best. She's inexperienced, but capable of taking a nuanced position and quite intelligent. She's used to thinking like a noblewoman jockeying for power, and that game of agent and counteragent comes through. She definitely has a superiority complex, though she's trying to control it.

The 'higher-ups', including the Amethyst Mage she met last night and the archer guy, take her answers and leave to consider. She's welcome to use the training area and equipment in the courtyard while she waits, otherwise come back in two hours.

She'll practice her sword drills, since her lessons are already done and she doesn't want to have any chance of being late to her appointment.

At her appointment, they say they're pleased to offer her a place in the Wall.

Well, the Wall's younger sister organization. They actually have two groups, one mostly composted of younger and relatively less capable people, and the more famous one composed of high-level combatants.

If she accepts, she'll sign a 2-year contract with the junior organization: The Fall Divers. The people there are closer to her power level, and frequently 'promote' into the Wall Club proper. The pay is decent, but the real meat of her future earnings would be per-mission bonuses. She'll get a 6-month training plan with good trainers and high quality gear, then start going on proper missions.

She barely considers before signing. The six-month training plan all expenses paid is exactly what she was looking for.

Congratulations to her! Does she want cake? They have cake and rum for these occasions. Does she want to go meet her new co-workers and see about scheduling the start of her training?

Yes and yes. (Finally, some decent company. She assumes.)

The Fall Divers section of the place is a lot lower key. More bright colors, less general opulence. A secretary of some sort warmly congratulates her! The other recent trainees are getting a lecture now if she wants to pop in? Or does she want to deal with logistics first?

She'll pop in, she doesn't want to miss her training!

A short, bearded old man is giving a lecture to three people. A vaguely asian looking man in some sort of foreign and tribal-looking outfit, a young-looking redhead woman in as simple a shirt and pants as she could get away with, and a very anxious looking blonde young woman wearing white priestess robes and carrying a metal staff decorated with angelic imagery. The display on the whiteboard is some sort of battle tactics.

"Ah, Mr. Tota? Here's Liath - the other new Fall Diver we've been sent. Apparently she has a good will. Bright Sorceress path."

"Welcome, welcome! Come sit, will you? I have to finish talking about the encirclement of Znevit and what we can learn from it, but then we can all get to know each other!"

The asian guy waves with a sideways grin. The other two greet her more subduedly.

She waves back casually and sits. No need to be intimidating to her own.

Mr. Tota continues the lecture! It's about the psychology of risk and Znevit's choices that led up to the current situation, which is a disaster for him.

Surrounded, with tired troops, in terrain suitable for the enemy, outnumbered, but with a few more high-level combatants and more support casters. What could Znevit do to get out of this? (He asks the class somewhat rhetorically.)

Tribal guy thinks Znevit should have turned and run a long time ago and now he's boned. Maybe he can get decent surrender terms. The priestess girl is too nervous to respond.

The redhead, though, says, "He should use his reputation. Znevit at this point had never lost a battle, and the Caledorians hated him, but they thought he was capable of nigh-impossible things. He should go out in front of his army and bluff. Thus biding time for his soldiers to rest, recover, and throw up makeshift fortifications."

Liath nods. "I agree."

"Why not surrender? Sometimes, you must accept that you have lost and try to preserve what you can."

"They wouldn't have offered him good terms. They thought they had him finally beat. One last gambit, risk all or save none." Shrug.

Liath is quiet, mulling the decision. 

"I might just hate giving up, but I prefer her solution."

"Hmm? Well, it's good to think for yourselves. Let's resume the lecture and everyone can meet our new friend afterwards."

He is quite a good teacher, though, managing to engage his students and present everything he has to say in the slightly rambling lessons on tactics in a compelling way.

When they're done, he says, "Go ahead and socialize a bit. Miss Liath, good to meet you. Go back to the secretery whenever you're ready to get a proper schedule set up."

"Hi!" The tribal-looking guy announces, holding his hand out for a handshake. "Name's Varrin. I do water manipulation and sword. Good to meet ya!"

She shakes his hand. "A bit of an opposite number, hm? Charmed, I'm sure."

Varrin laughs. "I'm not a bright, it's just a thing, lots of people in my clan have it, but I'm really lost and good at it, so..."

"L-Lucille," the priestess-looking girl says. "I... Heal things."

"Call me 'W' or 'hey you'. I'm older and stronger than I look. No magic, lots of punching, probably some other tricks once I think of them. Stronger than I look."

She nods to Lucille. "Glad to have you. You're probably going to save me from a nasty miscast at some point. Looking forwards to that."

W gets a smile. "Hey, W. How much older, do you mind me asking? I'm 27."

"Sixty five and I'm made of magic rocks, is why I still look like a teen. Well, because the guy who made me was not entirely right in the head. I'm told I'm very realistic for an awakened golem."

"Congratulations and condolences. You're our tank, then?"