Alex jerks awake with a scream. He'll doesn't keep screaming for long but definitely for a few seconds he frantically looks around the room. He notices the quest dialog but he isn't quite in a place to read it or work out the implications yet.

Well, that actually makes Ser Peckingsworth shut up! For about five seconds, anyway. Then the neighbor's rooster resumes crowing.

He's in his bedroom. Was it all a nightmare? It would be a shockingly detailed on of it was but... no the quest dialog. "Quests." He commands.

Active Quests
None

Completed Quests
About the Town
Party Like There's No Tomorrow

Failed Quests
The First Time's Always the Hardest

So the system is real. The whole sequence of events on the festival day was probably real too. What's even happening?

Failing the quest probably confirms that he died, but if he died, how exactly is he back home. He reopens the quest to see if rereading it will tell him more or jog his memory.

The First Time's Always the Hardest (Failed)
Trouble is coming to Eriksmont. Will you meet it when it does?
Objective: Survive for a year and a day. 
Success: +5 Might XP. Unlock status: New Game Plus. ???
Failure: An important lesson. Unlock status: New Game Plus. Return to start point.
Bonus Objective 1 (Failed): Jennifer is still alive after a year and a day. ???
Bonus Objective 2 (Failed): At least a thousand of the people of Eriksmont are still alive after a year and a day.

"Info New Game Plus."

New Game Plus 1: This status marks you as one who persists and perseveres through the ebb and flow of this world and its stories. You have returned to the beginning 1 time(s). 

Well that's his somewhat wild suspicion confirmed. The good news is that Jen is alive again. The bad news is that unless he figures something out she'll die again tonoght and he will too.

He should go talk to her about this.

Before that though... he picks up a small notebook and tries something.

"Store."

The notebook vanishes in a wisp of black smoke. It can be seen in his Inventory if he checks.

He does check just to confirm the name of the item for the retrieval command. The he goes to talk to Jen.

He's already had this conversation once and he doesn't want to have it all over again. Still there's things he needs to explain. He tells her about the strange blue boxes and demonstrates retrieving and storing his notebook. He also recounts what he can remember of the box describing his choice and how he's on the path to being a named. And then he explains how he died and returned.

It's a lot for Jen to take in, she almost interrupts several times but she knows that look, more from the mirror than from Alex but she knows it. He needs to get it all out.

Once he finally does, she takes a moment to contemplate it all. "Do you have any idea how many chances you get? Surely, not even the gods could loop time forever."

"I hadn't thought that far. I don't think there's any way for me to know though. I would expect it's a high number, but then I expected that the quest saying I had to survive for a year and a day meant that I probably wouldn't die today.

"I don't really know what to expect. I think if I had survived for that year and a day, I would still be back here but there isn't any way to be sure except surviving that long."

"That's unfortunate. Knowing what the limit is seems important, but if you don't have a way to find out I think that you need to try to succeed every time, rather than just treating things as an opportunity to learn."

"I'm not really sure I know how to do that yet. Unless I learn a lot more about magic really fast, I don't think I can stop that woman. So either I need help from someone else, or we need to flee. Or both. I don't think just fleeing will work, if I'm truly on the path to being a named the narrative won't just let me run but it might be enough to survive for more than a day."

Jen nods slowly. "Such a heavy burden you've accepted. I can't say I like the idea of running again and this time with no planned destination but perhaps it's our only choice. Then again... if you were to only have two chances I would agree with you with respect to it not making very much sense. Perhaps this is your safest chance to try to do something."

"I think, if I'm going to try something my best chance is Lilian. The imperial mage I mentioned. She most likely died with everyone else but maybe if she was forewarned she could do something or get that other imperial mage, Aeschivus, to help somehow."

"It's as good a plan as any I suppose. Do you have any way to convince her you're telling the truth?"

"Not something I would want to rely on but my ability to store objects is incredible magic and I picked up on enough anecdotes that I at least won't seem to be a loon. She might see me as dangerous or threatening instead but she should at least take me seriously."

"Well then, I guess you somewhere to start. I'll leave for Isvos after this assembly of the town. I expect my absence would be quite notable otherwise."

"I guess I do. And good luck. If all goes well I'll meet you there in a few days." Alex doesn't bother with chores this second go around instead he dresses up nicely again and heads to the tavern where he found Lilian the first time.

On his way out, Alex nearly runs into a greying man in travel-stained robes in the very act of knocking on the door. 

"Hello. Can I help you?" Does he recognize this man at all?

The face isn't familiar, though maybe the robes sort of remind him of someone he saw talking to dockworkers in the tavern? Alex never got a good look at that person's face. 

"I thought I heard screaming, is everything okay?" asks the man, lowering his knocking-hand to his side.

"I had a nightmare. At the end, someone stabbed me through the throat. It was... upsetting. I'm still a bit shaken to be honest but trying to move on. It's the festival today afterall."

"Oh, I'm sorry, that sounds distressing. I'm glad you're alright, though. I'm Batrakos, just passing through, but I'm also looking forward to the festival myself. Do you know where I might go to acquire a bit of local flavor?"

"People are probably already setting up for some of the earlier events. I know all the bakeries in town are likely already focused on baking up a storm for the competition later. The grounds outside of town and the town square are the other big event spaces."

"Thank you. What about food and lodgings? Is there anywhere you'd recommend for a weary traveler?"

"There's a tavern with some rooms that I'm actually heading to now there's also an inn that I think has cheaper rooms if that's a concern."

"Oh, excellent, would you mind terribly if I tagged along? I could do with some breakfast." 

Alex doesn't quite hide his brief grimace but it doesn't last long. "That's fine."

If Batrakos notices the grimace, he gives no sign of it. He cheerfully accompanies Alex to the Vorkenfalx.

...which, as it happens, is somewhat less populated at this hour. There's just Gaedoris setting up for the day, Grumio the drunk, and a couple of dockworkers. (It is perhaps seven in the morning, a couple hours before Alex arrived in the last iteration, since he skipped chores.)

Oh... right, he'll just order breakfast then and something without much alcohol to drink. And then he'll settle in to wait.

Batrakos thanks Alex, orders a breakfast himself, then goes to introduce himself to the dockworkers. Grumio orders an ale. 

As Alex waits for Lilian, others trickle in: an off-duty guard, a couple more dockworkers. A local woman stops by to chat briefly with Gaedoris, complaining about the festival preparations, the flood of rude visitors, and "some floozy" who's been seen talking with the town watch. Batrakos introduces himself as she's leaving and asks some questions about the town; they speak for a bit before she departs to go about her day.  Batrakos himself leaves shortly thereafter. 

At about nine in the morning, Alex finally spots Lilian, Welligan, and Priscus descending from the upstairs rooms of the Vorkenfalx. 

Unlike every other person Alex has seen today, Lilian is (apparently) wearing a completely different outfit than last time, a blue dress with matching earrings and a fur overcoat. 

That's confusing. He wonders how that happened. Is there some chance Lilian remembers what happened too? Regardless he'll give a gentle wave when she comes into view and see how she responds. He doesn't really want to have this conversation here in the midst of so many people so the best option he has is to be her guide again.

Lilian doesn't appear to notice, at first, although Welligan glances in Alex's direction and frowns. 

It doesn't take her long, though. She orders breakfast for herself and her guards, "and a Tutovan red if you have it," and then spots Alex and strikes up a conversation as before. She doesn't immediately mention that she's looking for a guide; she does ask Gaedoris and Alex lots of questions about the town and the festival. Alex notices that Welligan seems to be studying him silently. 

At any rate, Lilian's not hard to convince to accept a town guide a second time. 

He's pretty sure he's acting a bit weird. Once they're on their way Alex will start to open with his real topic. "So, Lilian, I have something of an unbelievable story for you. I'm not really sure how I would go about proving I'm telling the truth though and I want to try to convince you." He pauses awkwardly for a moment before rushing into it. "I've met you before on a previous version of today."

"That...is quite the claim. Could you elaborate?" 

"Well as a bit of a strange starting point, you're the only person who was wearing something different today. Did you by any chance consider several outfits including," he goes on to describe her previous outfit in detail. He spent the day with her and it's one of the fanciest outfits he's seen so he remembers a lot of details.

"I don't recall ever considering that particular outfit, but granting the premise, I would not be surprised that's what you saw...remind me to explain the particulars if we manage to establish that this is not an elaborate hoax. In the meantime, I think this calls for a bit of discretion. Ah, here will do nicely." Lilian leads the way to an unoccupied alley just off the main street, open enough to be visible but not bustling with people. She casts something that faintly colors the cobblestone ground in a white circle several paces across, with Alex and Welligan inside and Priscus standing just outside. She then casts something else, following the circle all the way around at a brisk walk. After completing the circuit, she steps inside the circle herself. 

"I've made it more inconvenient to eavesdrop on us, for the moment at least. I would like a more thorough explanation, if you wouldn't mind, starting with what exactly you mean by 'a previous version of today' and what supposedly happened then."

"Well... to start at the ending, I'm pretty sure everyone here in Eriksmont is killed by a rogue mage in some sort of ritual tonight... well I don't know it's a ritual but I don't know another reason someone would want to kill everyone here. And I don't know for sure that she killed everyone as opposed to just people on the festival green outside of town. But she killed a lot of people including me. If I wasn't on the path to being a Named I'm pretty sure that would have been it."

"If what you say is true, I'm certainly glad you chose to warn me.

"...perhaps things would make more sense if you started at the beginning. I expect you could predict some events I've yet to see happen, if you've lived through this day already." 

"Well... the true beginning happened before I met you earlier in the morning for the first version of this morning. A mysterious box of text appeared in front of me." Alex proceeds to lay all his cards on the table including demonstrating his inventory trick and then goes into recounting the events of the day highlighting details like who won various competitions and the arrival of Aeschivus and the events surrounding that including who in the Eriksmont was noticed and taken and the fact that he wasn't noticed because he was standing next to her. Then he finally moves to recount everything he can remember about the woman and the short window between waking back up and dying.

Lilian listens intently without interruption. When Alex finishes, she is quiet for a long minute in thought.

"That is an unusual story even by what I understand to be Named standards. I admit I don't know what to make of it. Strange things do tend to happen around Named. But if your predictions about the competitions bear out, that's highly suggestive." 

Welligan clears his throat. "All due respect, Lilian, I recommend leaving town. This ritual sounds like bad news. I can't keep you safe from whatever that was, and if we're being conned, well..." 

"Quite," Lilian answers drily. "Nevertheless..." 

There is a pause while, outside the circle, Priscus encourages a gawking urchin to move along. 

"...I intend to at least see if Alex's predictions hold true."

"If he wanted you in a specific place —"

"Then he needn't have bothered spinning such a risky tale, and could presumably have simply told me there was Eriksmont excitement to be had there."

"—Well you know how I'd feel about that," Welligan grumbles. 

"A word of caution, Alex. Be careful who you tell about these experiences of yours. There is magic to ensnare the mind which might well persist even through death and rebirth, magic which might be known to someone who can knock out an entire town with a song. And I know of a few people who'd be more than happy to dissect a burgeoning Named, given opportunity or excuse." 

"Oh, I'll be more careful going forward. I just... I don't know how many chances I have before I die for real and I don't know how to leverage what I have to do anything personally. I'll probably try leaving town myself next time to see if that means I have more than a day to try and find some way to be able to do more, maybe try letting Aeschivus take me if running myself doesn't keep me safe."

"That's very reasonable of you." 

"Now, let's go watch some highly athletic men fall off logs. Trust but verify, and all that."

Lilian casts something else, gesturing towards the ground, and the circle she drew earlier melts away.

It's a short walk from there to the river, out the southwest gate and down the road past homes and warehouses.

The logrolling competition goes the same as before, the birlers pitching one another into the Cabelpas to the delight of onlookers. The matches play out exactly as Alex remembers, including the dramatic win by Raskos.

That's good, it would be unsettling if this changed and undermine his credibility.

Onto the field to see Aeschivus or does Lilian want to go see the baking competition and wait for Aeschivus's messenger to summon them?

"I can hardly believe I'm saying this, but I'd rather see Aeschivus arrive. If things play out the way you described, I want to witness them. And then I want to have a talk with the man about this ritual." 

"Okay, this way then." He starts walking, "If you can keep my name out of it I'd prefer that based on what you said earlier but I'll trust your judgement about this."

"Oh, I agree." 

They arrive in time to see Aeschivus and his entourage speaking with the dancers on the green. Before long, Alex sees Aldric the blacksmith abandon an archery target he's hauling and march towards the gathering to investigate. Minutes later, Aldric calls over an apprentice and sends him running into the town. 

From a distance, the discussion looks to be growing heated, with Aldric making increasingly agitated gestures at the magus. Eventually a pair of soldiers interpose themselves between Aldric and Aeschivus, forcing the blacksmith away. 

Mayor Daertes arrives next, not-quite-running to greet the magus and his people. His arrival triggers another round of heated discussion, and more officials crowd around as time goes on.

Lilian chooses to mingle with the confused dancers, keeping half an eye on Aeschivus from a safe distance; this time he doesn't seem to notice nor approach. 

When Aldric is dragged off to the square, Lilian excuses herself. "I'd like to see this in person, and check on something at the inn," she explains. "I'll be back shortly." 

"Okay, I'll be here." Alex will keep his distance from Aeschivus. Maybe in a future attempt where he's planning to be taken he'll try getting closer.

"Aeschivus, what a pleasant surprise." 

"Lilian. I trust you're not here to interfere with Imperial business."

"On the contrary, our meeting is sheer happy coincidence. I'm just here for the festival. I do hope to speak with you on a matter of great import, once your current task is finished. I've learned some alarming news while in town." 

"...very well."

"Splendid, I shan't delay you further." 

Aeschivus completes his survey as before, and allows Daertes to dismiss the townsfolk. Instead of riding off to the north, however, he and his people wait for Lilian at the north edge of the green. Lilian warns Alex that she might be gone for a while, but that she'd be back well before the time of the supposed ritual. Then she and her guards approach Aeschivus for a lengthy conversation. His group departs after that, heading north, and Lilian goes with them. 

The Feast of Thresholds proceeds, subdued but yet unconquered. The procession, the mock battle, and the dances follow as before.

And at about eight in the evening, an old woman Alex doesn't recognize, accompanied by a pair of men in the uniforms of the Eriksmont town guard, sits next to him on the green. "Well, this has certainly been an interesting evening. I am less inclined to doubt you, now."

It takes him a second but he manages to stop himself from saying her name aloud. "Oh? What did you find out?"

"It just so happens there's a woman calling herself 'Clarisse' who's been spending an awful lot of time with the Eriksmont town guard these last few weeks. It also happens that positively everyone she's met thinks she's wonderful, just wonderful, and quite the singer too, don't you know, and in fact she ever so kindly offered to give a private concert for the guard this evening, in honor of the festival, of course."

"That is better than I had feared. I believed she might have mentally dominated them just before she arrived and that this town might just be a small part of a bigger plan. I suppose it still might be."

"Outright domination isn't completely out of the question, but it's harder than many assume to cast, maintain, and conceal. At any rate, Aeschivus and I intend to crash that party in less than an hour. If all goes well, we'll catch her in the act of attempted mass mind control and that will be that. 

"If not...I'm loathe to rely on it, but perhaps you'll get a third chance. If you do, you can tell...other me...that we attempted a Wine Cellar Special and it didn't work. Also that I should do the obvious check sooner and it comes up blue-white. I'll know what you mean. 

"If there's anything else you need to ask me before the excitement starts, now's the time."

"Do you think it's a good idea for me to join an order and which order do you think I should try to join if so?"

"I think that if this situation keeps repeating, you should first attempt to enroll in Grawtosh Academy at Arbis. Grawtosh provides the most comprehensive education on Petronian theory, associated skills, and the Orders to be found anywhere, and useful connections to boot. It won't be easy or comfortable, at your age, but I think it's worth the attempt. 

"Tuition at Grawtosh is a pawn of vis* per season, or else a rather large sum of money. Students without wealthy families typically commit to joining an Order after a year or two of lessons. Grawtosh provides a basic grounding in theory, then the graduate apprentices to an Order magus for some years. 

"I'd only advise otherwise if you want to specialize in a specific magical tradition other than Avernian ritual magic. The Order of Aetherics has its elemental magic, the Order of Device its Gnostic crafting, the Order of Cognizance its Enigma of Twilight, and so on. The first two require opening rituals that are widely considered mutually incompatible with standard Avernian practice, although perhaps being Named offers a way around that. If you are confident in a focus on one of those, you could perhaps convince the corresponding Order to accept you directly. 

"What classes are available to you will be determined by your performance on the entrance exams, so in theory you could attend Grawtosh multiple times if you...reset. You may need a story the second time which explains how you were opened to the Arts without there being an Imperial record of it. It had better be a good one, too; it is not generally considered wise or easy to lie to Quaesitores."

*According to Alex's books, a pawn of vis is the smallest easily-measurable unit of concentrated magical essence in Petronian theory. It is typically attuned to exactly one of the ten Petronian Forms.

"I'll look into that, if I commit to joining an order in advance is the tuition waved or is it just that people join because they can only afford a year or two? If I'm understanding correctly I'll loop before a year regardless but in case I'm wrong about that, do I also have to choose which order in advance?"

"Oh, the Order pays. Usually. You do have to pick an Order in advance, although you can in theory swap if one Order is interested enough to reimburse another for your tuition costs.

"Alternatively, you could formally enlist with the Imperial army and study for a while at a provincial military school. Those mainly exist to prepare passable magi for the Order of Wrath. Destruction and dispelling magic, mostly, crude but viciously effective. They don't teach much else, though. 

"There's laws that govern apprenticeship and enlistment agreements, enforceable by everything from corporal punishment to compulsion spells, but I didn't pay nearly enough attention in lectures to know how they'd apply to a time loop. The loyal and correct thing to say, of course, is that if one makes a commitment to Empire and Order then one ought to keep it regardless of surrounding circumstances, and regardless of whether Empire or Order are capable of actually remembering said commitment. And if anyone asks, you may tell them that's what I advised. 

"Oh, there are also a few interesting independent schools around the Empire as well. They've sadly declined over time, as the Avernian tradition became more popular, and they tend to have peculiar conditions for entry, but they do exist and they can be quite enlightening." 

"With that in mind do you have any suggestions? I'm a little unsure how much the choice of order restricts what I'm likely to learn or how much independence I'll be able to have."

"Well, if I were advising a normal Gifted, I'd say it depends a great deal on what kind of magus you want to be. If you apprentice with an Order, you'll spend most of your time doing grunt work for a senior magus and the rest learning whatever Arts they specialize in. Assuming you are not presently sitting on a small fortune, that's the standard way to become an accomplished magus in a decade or three. This commits you to at least one season a year of Order-assigned duties, and often more. 

"Independence is hard to come by, I'm afraid, but if you'd rather not commit to an Order, there are a few covenants that still occupy legally-protected niches.* The monastery at Viginti traditionally makes a study of Yan Tei philosophies and magical traditions, for example, and they are mostly autonomous but obliged to share any findings with the Orders. Also, their cook makes an exquisite roast duck. 

"The Order of Wrath is the other extreme; they commit you to full-time military service, but also focus almost exclusively on training combat magic. If you urgently want to be able to personally win a fight against a powerful magus, that's the place to start. I believe there's a small academy in Isvos,** you could inquire there.

"If you want generalist experience before you pick an Order, Grawtosh is still a good choice. I can put in a good word with the Order of Dreams; they'll happily sponsor you to get a basic education on my recommendation, and I expect they'll also be willing to trade you to another Order if you so choose. 

"You could get special treatment by admitting you're on the path to being Named, perhaps demonstrating that pocket-dimension trick, but then absolutely everyone is going to want to sink their claws into you one way or another. If you're like most Named, you won't be able to hide your nature forever, but you should treat notoriety as a resource and spend it wisely. Otherwise, unless you are quite extraordinarily good at intrigue, you're liable to end up on someone's leash, if not their laboratory table.

"As to how all of this interacts with the possibility of repeating the same year more than once, I must admit I can't confidently say much more than I have. It would certainly make you the envy of many a magus, if it proved true. You could afford to take some quite impressive risks in pursuit of knowledge, and take them repeatedly. Go forth and try things, I suppose."

*The practice of magic is tolerated outside the Orders, but it's (mostly) illegal to teach magic in Miezia without being part of a Petronian Order. 
**Capital city of Umbrica province, in which Eriksmont is located. Named for the Aspiring Commander who conquered much of the region. 

"That seems like a reasonable plan then. I'll happily accept your recommendation. I'd prefer to at least not start out operating under false pretenses so planning to go to Grawtosh with your recommendation. If I'm wrong it doesn't sound like too bad a life and illusions have a lot of potential utility even if they won't carry a battle alone. I get the impression Aeschivus is formidable so I don't really expect personal direct combat magics to be what carries the day if the two of you don't suffice."

"Quite. And if for some reason I don't survive this, do please contact the Order of Dreams anyway and tell them what happened. Although I imagine the province governor should be your first stop; we don't know what happens if the entirety of Eriksmont is slaughtered tonight, but I'd wager it doesn't stop there. We have a fast horse and a couple of scouts posted just out of sight along the east road. If all else fails, they will accompany you to Isvos." 

"My grandmother already left to head that way so that works. Is there somewhere I should wait? Should I just start walking that way now?"

"Perhaps close enough to see whether this Clarisse emerges from the east gate again, but far enough to flee unnoticed if she does? The edge of the green could work, but you know this town better than I."

"I think I might be able to find somewhere in the hills that I can see the gate from. A woman accompanied by a number of guards is distinct enough to see from a distance and so would everyone on the green falling over."

"Then go, and the gods be with you."

And the "old woman" and her escort set off towards town.

Alex ventures off to the hills and settles in to watch once he finds a good spot.

If the magi and their entourage double back to enter Eriksmont, they do a good enough job of disguising themselves that Alex can't tell them apart from festival-goers.

For about an hour, everything is quiet, if one ignores the raucous partying of several thousand townsfolk.

A bit after nine in the evening, a woman and a group of guards do indeed emerge from the eastern gate...

...but it's a considerably different group than last time, if the dark evening dress and bright orange coat are any indication. 

Aeschivus walks stiffly at the head of the group, with his own guards in tow. Behind them, a woman in a black and silver dress is thoroughly bound, gagged, blindfolded, and draped across a horse, with the horse and its passenger being led by one guard and diligently watched by three more from beyond arm's reach with spears at the ready. 

(One does not take chances with magi of unknown origin and powers.) 

A small horde of townsfolk and Eriksmont garrison troops follow after, craning their necks for better view. At the pointed looks (and more pointed weaponry) from the rest of the entourage, they keep to a distance that might be called barely respectful. 

By saving the town of Eriksmont from mass slaughter, albeit in a thoroughly undramatic manner, you have gained 2 Might XP! 

You are now Might 1! 

You have unlocked an Aspect! 

At first Alex is apprehensive but when the woman doesn't go towards the stage and especially once Aeschivus appears it's clear they've succeeded. The system notification is just confirmation. He'll start making his way back down aiming to come from a low profile angle.

In the meantime, "Info Aspect."

Info/Aspects

Just as a Name is a way in which your story reflects the stories of others, an Aspect is a way in which your story reflects your own aspirations and accomplishments.

Aspects unlocked: 1 of 3

Grow 0 (0/5) 
Gain additional XP from long-term study or practice, scaling with the level of this Aspect. You ignore penalties to experience gain from having scores in multiple Supernatural Abilities, including magical Arts. You may gain unique abilities from books, training, or defeated foes, even if you would not normally be capable of using them. You may gain Might XP by consuming vis, up to a limit of this Aspect's level in pawns of vis each season. 
Apply Might XP to advance this Aspect. 

???
Defeat a difficult enemy or obtain a rare skill to unlock your next Aspect. 

That is an excellent ability.

Alex won't approach the mages given that he doesn't think Aeschivus knows about him and also he doesn't want the woman to know to try to get revenge on him.

Aeschivus and his larger group peel away to continue east, prisoner in tow. 

Well he can do as he likes, but it sounds like her work here is done. Therefore: 

DANCING!!!

The Festival of Asteron officially ends at midnight, although festival-goers trickle back to bed in various states of exhaustion and inebriation for some time afterwards. 

In the morning, Ser Peckingsworth greets the actual dawn as enthusiastically as usual. Jen's still away, and the green is still somewhat trampled from the prior night's partying. 

Alex will celebrate with everyone else. He won't drink too heavily but he'll definitely have some. When morning comes he'll eat an early breakfast and then go to Lilian's inn to try to meet with her again.

This works! She's still staying at the Vorkenfalx.

She looks completely different again and is only a little bit hungover. 

"Good morning Lilian. Come to think of it, you never did explain how you have quite so many outfits. Are you using magic for that?"

"Oh yes, and I did promise to explain how that might be such a persistent trait, didn't I. Tell me, how much do you know about magical sigils?"

"I know they exist, from context I'm guessing they might have something to do with anchoring spells or perhaps randomness?"

"Oh no, that's just mine. A magus's sigil, you see, is a personal concept that shows up in almost any spell they cast. Sigils can be practically anything: roses, bronze, fearsomeness, smallness...there's an Order of Sustenance magus in Isvos whose every spell reflects the essence of swine. Remarkably straightforward young man. Anyway, my sigil is...well, I suppose you might say it's the concept of never being the same thing twice." 

"That's very you. And somehow that can tap into the narrative or some deeper level of magic?"

"Well, sigils can be very insistent. It's supposed to be possible to conceal or fake them, but I could imagine mine persisting even amidst something as strange as repeating the same day. As for any deeper connections with magical theory or namelore, I'm afraid I couldn't say." 

He nods, "Perhaps I'll find out one day. I wonder a bit what mine will be."

"I look forward to finding out."

"On a perhaps more somber topic, how did things go down last night? A woman with that kind of ability seems potentially very difficult to subdue."

"Yes, she had most of the garrison eating out of her hand by the time we arrived, and I'm honestly not sure how she did it. Aeschivus didn't think they were actively enspelled. She might have convinced the lot of them to defend her, if we hadn't been prepared for exactly this sort of scenario thanks to your warning. It turns out that it's terribly difficult to be enchantingly helpless at people when you suddenly look and sound like a demonic frog.

"That leaves her actual magic. Now, a general rule of thumb in these matters is that if a magus and a metamagus get into a fight, all else equal the metamagus wins. Well, the first rule of thumb is that the first magus to get a spell off usually wins, but the thing about metamagi is they tend to have contingencies. Also rules of thumb are nonsense much of the time. Anyway, she tried to croak everyone to sleep, it did not work, say what you will about the man but Aeschivus is no slouch in a crisis." 

"That's concerning, that it doesn't show up as a spell effect. I wonder how she accomplished that. Maybe it's as simple as using a temporary spell to convince them, Jen says that nobody likes to believe they've been tricked but that that can make it harder for people to realize when it's happened."

"A good thought. I have found that sometimes the best effects can be created by timely removal of illusion. 

"Now that she's properly contained, 'Clarisse' will most likely be taken to Arbis to stand trial. Her spell attempt violated Order and Imperial law, so I expect things won't go well for her with two magi as witnesses. I'll be along to attend once my business here is concluded."

"Indeed, speaking of travel plans, you said that you'd give me a recommendation to Grawtosh. Would it make sense for us to travel together?"

"For complex reasons, it's best if we travel separately, I'm afraid. I do hope your journey is a safe and enlightening one."

Before they part, Lilian will write two letters for Alex, one for the governor of Isvos to please take reasonable measures to facilitate the travel of a prospective magus, and one for the Order of Dreams in Arbis. 

"Safe travels then, perhaps we'll meet again one day."

With that not being an option Alex will pack for the long journey and then set out.

It's a mercifully uneventful journey along the Via Janus, through the rolling farmlands and occasional sparse forests of this part of Umbrica.

The province capital, Isvos, is a large step up from Eriksmont in size and population. Guarding the only bridge across the Cabelpas for a hundred miles, it boasts fortifications raised and enchanted by (former) Primor Magnus Phrainia herself, scarred by age but still thrumming with magic even to Alex's rudimentary senses. Its red-roofed homes huddle behind the supernaturally smooth walls, and newer houses spill out along both banks of the river. It is surrounded on all sides by farms and pastures, with the notable exception of a cluster of buildings on a hill to the northeast, the lee side of which hill is a fenced-in area containing several hundred pigs. 

After making some inquiries — the residents speak a mixture of Miezan and native Umbrican — Alex learns that Jen is staying at the Fifth Crossing, a modest inn that nevertheless boasts an impressive view of the Sanguine Span and Redwater Spur. Although the Empire has been officially at peace with the neighboring Long Gardens for longer than Alex has been alive, the fortress that guards the Cabelpas remains an imposing sight. 

Jen embraces Alex warmly when he finally meets her. "I'm so glad you're okay. How did things turn out?"

He'll return the hug with equal warmth, "Everything was fine, it seems I was scared for no reason and you didn't need to make this journey after all."

Jen scrutinizes him for a moment but realizes he's worried about eavesdroppers. With that in mind she invites him back to her room for a bit more privacy.

Whereupon, Alex actually explains everything that happened in a quiet voice and informs her of his plan to join the academy.

Jen in turn fills him in on the fact that there's a small Order of Sustenance convent in the city and lets him know that Aeschivus arrived with two prisoners rather than just the one she might have expected from Alex's story.

"Strange, I wonder if they found a co-conspirator or it's unrelated."

"I don't know. I hope you have a safe journey. Be careful at the academy, I don't remember hearing about it being quite as cutthroat as the orders can get but powerful people are never safe to be around."

"I will."

Finally saying goodbye stretches out a bit longer with many more hugs and not a few tears. Afterwards, Alex goes looking for a caravan headed to the capital or in the absence of that some smaller travelling group.

Thanks to Lilian's letter, Alex need not worry about the cost of mundane travel. But it will still take most of a season to reach Arbis. The main routes are overland via the magically-secured Miezan road system (lengthy but widely considered safe) or sailing down the Cabelpas to the sea and then either east overland or farther south and then up another major river.

(The Empire can, rarely and at great expense, teleport people between cities. Isvos does not command nearly enough strategic importance to merit an investment like that, especially since Imperator Khale outlawed human blood sacrifice.)

Given the length, Alex will see if he can find some new books in the city to occupy himself with. He brought a couple from home but you can never have too many books.

Given he has some time and more privacy than will easily be available while travelling he finally gets around to asking the system for info on more of the abilities he has. He'll prioritize any of the ones that seem related to magic but he'll try to read all of them eventually in case they have hidden secrets he doesn't expect.

Books are expensive. Affordable, on a healer's income, but at a rate of something like "several months' salary" if they are sold at all. Nonetheless, the military academy at Isvos has a few books they could be persuaded to part with, on topics including Imperial law, Petronian law, the Miezan language, philosophiae, history, and the seven Artes Liberales (grammar, logic, rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, with most emphasis on the first three.) All the books available are in Miezan, of course. It's a treasure trove of knowledge compared to Eriksmont. 

According to the scribes, the Sustainer covenant of Moccus might have a few books on magic. 

The mundane Abilities are more or less what he expected. As for the magical: 

Creo (Cr) 4 (0/5 XP)
Creo magic makes things that exist independently into better things of their kind, which includes bringing them into existence from nothing. Things that exist independently are called “substances,” and include people, trees, and rocks, but do not include colors, weights, and sizes. Creo can thus both create and heal things.

The kind of thing that something is depends on its form. Natural things, such as plants, animals, flames, and so on, have simple forms, which means that the form is just one thing. This makes them easy to create and heal. Natural things created by magic are always perfect examples of their kind unless the magus wants them to be damaged. Similarly, magic can heal a natural thing even if the caster has no idea what is wrong, as it simply restores the form.

Artificial things, such as bread, swords, and books, have complex forms. Their forms are combinations of several natural forms put together in a particular way. Creating an artificial thing by magic requires some skill. An Int + Finesse roll is made to determine how good the created thing is. You can only create something you know about. Any magus can create bread or cloth, but in order to create an elaborate mosaic depicting the foundation of the Petronian Orders, you would need to know what it should depict. If you were wrong, the mosaic would also be wrong. Similar considerations apply to repairing artificial things. 

You need not be able to create an artificial item by mundane means in order to create it by magic; you need only be somewhat familiar with it. A magically created item will always be the right sort of thing unless your Finesse roll botches. Thus, absent a botch, magically created cloth will always be a whole piece and keep people warm, but it might not be very attractive.

You can also use Creo to make something a better example of its kind, even if it isn’t actually injured or damaged. Thus, Creo can make a horse as swift as the fastest horse, or a man as strong as the strongest man. Creo cannot make a horse able to run as fast as the wind, because no ordinary horse can do that, nor can it make a man strong enough to lift a castle. Since maturation involves becoming a better example of your kind, Creo magic can make something mature quickly. Aging after maturation involves becoming a worse example of your kind, and thus is covered by Perdo.

Magically created things last for the duration of the spell, but their effects last indefinitely. Thus, the footprints of a magically created horse do not vanish, nor does its dung, if it was fed on mundane food. If a magically created horse was fed on mundane food for a year, it would leave a mundane corpse when the spell expired, as the mundane food has been converted into mundane body. Conversely, magically created food only nourishes for as long as the duration lasts, and someone who has eaten it becomes extremely hungry when the duration expires. Things washed with magically created water stay clean, but people made drunk with magically created alcohol instantly sober up.

Intellego (In) 1 (0/2 XP)
Intellego is the Art of perception. It allows you to gather information directly from the forms of things. This information does not deal with the appearances of things, unless Intellego Imaginem is used. Rather, it provides information about the actual nature of a thing. Thus, Intellego magic is not deceived by mundane disguises.

Animal (An) 2 (0/3 XP)
Animal concerns animals of all kinds, from the fish of the sea to the birds of the air. Animal spells cannot affect humans or humanlike people, unless they for some reason take the form of an animal.
Form Bonus: Soak against animal attacks (claws, bites, etc.), rolls to resist animal poisons.

Corpus (Co) 3 (0/4 XP)
Corpus is the Art of human bodies. This Art affects dead bodies and the bodies of magical or faerie creatures that look human, as well as those of living humans and humanlike peoples.
Form Bonus: Soak against human unarmed attacks, rolls to resist disease. It does not apply to aging rolls. 

Herbam (He) 1 (0/2 XP) 
This Form concerns plants and trees. This includes plant matter of all types, including that which is no longer alive — like dead wood and linens.
Form Bonus: Soak against wooden weapons, rolls to resist herbal poisons, rolls to resist starvation.

And:

Magic Sensitivity 1 (1/10 XP) 

You are often able to identify a place or object as magical. However, your sensitivity makes you more susceptible to magical effects. Subtract your Magic Sensitivity score from any Magic Resistance you possess. When attempting to sense the magic nature of a place or object, the System will assign an Ease Factor, against which is rolled a simple die + Perception + Magic Sensitivity.

Detecting a Magic aura would normally have an Ease Factor equal to 12 – aura level, so 9 for a level 3 aura and 6 for a level 6 aura.

For spells and enchanted items, an Ease Factor equal to 21 – the magnitude of effect is typical.

Enchanted items use the magnitude of the most powerful effect in the item.

For magical creatures, 15 – one fifth of the creature’s Magic Might is typical, so for a creature with a Magic Might of 25, the Ease Factor would be 10.

Common specialties: auras, magical creatures, enchanted items, active spells. 

He can afford to pick up one new book, Petronian law might be boring but it also seems like it will be very relevant to him going forwards so he'll get a book on that.

The mundane details of the skill descriptions are all things he basically already knew. The mentions of dice rolls are not. He actually finds the concept disturbing. It's true that the world is a chaotic place but he hadn't thought such things came down to a literal roll of some sort of godly dice. He'll try and ask the system for more details about that focusing on keywords like simple die, soak and botch.

Info/Dice

A simple die is a discretization of the metaphysical nature of chance in Creation as applied to the Player of Games. Its default odds are equivalent to those of as a ten-sided die numbering from 1 to 10, with equal odds of each. 

A stress die is as a simple die, except that additional effects occur on a roll of 1 or 10. On a 1, there is a possibility of a botch, represented by a separate roll of botch dice. On a 10, another stress die is rolled and the result doubled; this can occur multiple times (though it never results in a botch). 

A botch die represents a chance of major failure. Each is a ten-sided die; if any die results in a 1, the roll is a botch. If multiple dice result in a 1, multiple things go wrong. The more complex or dangerous a situation, the more botch dice are rolled. Some traits and effects may also influence the number of botch dice rolled. 

Info/Soak

Your Soak total against a particular type of damage is subtracted from the damage before calculating Wounds. Against most forms of harm, your base Soak is equal to your Stamina + armor bonus + Form bonus (if applicable). A Form bonus is your score in the associated magical Form / 5, rounded up. 

Info/Botch

When rolling botch dice, if any die results in a 1, the original roll is a botch. The roll not only fails, but fails spectacularly, usually to the detriment of the Player or their goals. 

The higher the stakes and the greater the powers involved in a roll, the more spectacular a botch can be. Some traits, effects, and circumstances, including adequate precautionary measures, may reduce the odds or severity of a botch. 

In addition to the unpredictable effects of a failed spell, magical botches typically also result in the magus gaining one point of Warping for each botch die that rolls a 1. Gaining two or more Warping Points this way also causes a magus to enter Twilight.

After the realization about chance, the idea of damage being represented by numbers is positively mundane.

Onto the journey ahead, based on his options he could go overland or over the water. If everything goes well the water journey would clearly be superior giving him more time to himself and requiring less effort on his part on top of being a shorter journey by a little.

As he's been reminded though he's on the path to being a named. Planning for things to go smoothly seems like an unavailable luxury so despite the disadvantages he'll go opt for the overland route and the protection of the Empire's enchanted roads.

The next overland caravan headed to Arbis is a sizeable one, bearing pearls and trinkets brought upriver from the Iridescent Archipelago, ceramics and alchemical ingredients from Quedlin, and some local furs and crafts. It includes a bevy of merchants and their hirelings, and — a far rarer sight, even in Isvos — one male gnome, his small cart covered in some kind of water-resistant fabric and pulled by a chestnut pony. 

On the one hand... this seems like exactly the sort of story hook he was worried about. On the other hand he's curious. Also he has the excuse that if he tries to avoid all the story hooks that the narrative will just try harder. If he finds a chance he'll introduce himself and see where that goes.

An opportunity arises almost as soon as they set out from Isvos; it's a long walk and there's not much else to do. The gnome goes by Trefoil, and claims in moderately accented Miezan to be a traveling scholar.

"That's exciting, I'm on my way to enroll in a school in the capital. What sorts of things do you study?"

"Many subjects, young student, or at least I once did. Linguistics, philosophy, mathematics, and others that I and mine have forgotten since the Fall, even their names lost. I suppose they all round off to history, now." 

"A grim topic to have such treasured knowledge stolen. I hope one day your people can recover or rebuild what you lost."

"As do I. What do you intend to study in the capital?" 

"I'll be studying magic at Grawtosh Academy."

"Gifted, are you? Unusual, to discover the talent so late. The students of Grawtosh often begin much earlier in life. What curious twist of fate brings you there now?" 

"I've known I was gifted for much longer but my grandmother didn't want me getting involved in such things. I changed my mind recently when a rogue mage attacked my small town. Fortunately there were a couple imperial mages passing through who were able to stop her. I don't want to think how bad it would have gotten otherwise, she had ensnared the whole town guard to doing her bidding."

"Ah. I can see how such an event could change one's perspective. May I record the tale?" He withdraws a battered notebook from his many-pocketed vest and sets it on a curious protrusion jutting out from his cart, where it nestles comfortably in an indentation in the wood. 

"I'd have to think about how to put it into words, perhaps another day." Alex isn't really sure how to make the tale make sense without including the time travel.

"Your prerogative, of course." Producing a quill from another pocket and wetting it by - poking it tip-down into a hole in his vest? - he jots down something in a few quick strokes, then the notebook vanishes into a pocket again. He does this all one-handed, maintaining a firm grip on the reins all the while. 

"Do you have stories or knowledge you particularly enjoy sharing."

He snorts. "I've many a tale or secret left, for the right price. My excursions don't fund themselves, after all. What topics catch your interest, eh? Grand battles, fearsome beasts, ancient treasures, provincial happenings, the price of grain in Sing Du?" 

"What sort of price do you mean? As for what catches my interest; I'm most interested in any information you have about the Named."

"Named, eh? Not particularly common in these parts, especially now with everyone who's anyone campaigning across the sea. I know a thing or three about them, aye. As for price, I'm not picky. Coin, goods, books, perhaps valuable information of your own." Trefoil peers over his slightly scratched spectacles at Alex. "I'll answer straightforward questions for a victory* each; proper tutoring in what I know for thirty. Or something of equivalent value."

*Typical Miezan silver coin, worth about a day's wages for a scribe in Isvos, or about three days of rations. Thirty is getting into "about as expensive as a book" range, but then, books on namelore are said to be rare. 

Alex thinks about the books he has with him. "I have a couple books I might be willing to part with.  Volume three from Petronus's unified theory. And a couple on astronomy and geometry."

"Hmm, interesting. Do you mind if I have a look?"

"Certainly." It's not as if he can copy a book at a glance. Alex will pull the books out of his bag. Saving the medical text he borrowed from Jen because he doesn't feel like he can trade that away. And also leaving his new purchase that he hasn't finished reading.

Trefoil takes the books one at a time to examine atop his cart. He flips the first couple pages of A Unified Theory of Magic, Volume III and frowns at it. He sketches something in his notebook with the astronomy book open, quill dripping curiously redly, and nods thoughtfully.

"I'm afraid this Petronian text is descended from the Charlenius copies." He points out a list of names just after the cover. "Their reputation for transcription errors lowers the value somewhat, though it's not bad enough to be useless and there are a handful of collectors who might want it for other reasons. The texts on astronomy and geometry both look well cared for; either one would be a fair trade for a course in namelore during our journey."

"Let's say Astronomy then. I expect it to be less useful at the academy and I have most of what it says memorized already."

"Oh, charting the stars is more useful to a magus than you might think, but the Academy library is among the best in the world. You have yourself a deal, young man." He sets the book aside. "Shall we begin?"

"Certainly, I haven't been able to learn much about the Named but I can share a bit of what I know if that would be useful."

"Yes, why don't we start with what you know or have heard." 

"The core of what I've heard is that there is a force or perhaps a fabric that pervades the world called the narrative which has influences on everyone from the lowest of low to the gods above and below. For most the narrative doesn't take an interest in the details of their lives but for the Named it does. The Named live lives much more like characters in stories than ordinary people because the narrative ensures that their lives are, interesting in the way of stories. Beyond that, I haven't heard much, just that the Named have special abilities called aspects that they can accumulate as they grow."

There's a little from his special knowledge there but most of this is confirmed by books he's read before.

"Hmm, not a terrible start, but the demon is in the details, as they say. For one thing, it's unclear to what extent stories affect the Gods themselves. But they do exert an influence on Named — not just their lives or circumstances, but also on the kind of people who become Named in the first place, and how they think and act. Aspects are the main abilities of Named, but not their only abilities; Names can also grant more subtle enhanced traits such as senses or strength, or boost anything that a Named can already accomplish on their own. As with many kinds of power, the extent varies with practice and specialization. Also like many forms of power, it cuts both ways; a Name also amplifies flaws, especially when their manifestation would be most dramatic. One might perhaps summarize it thus: To be Named is to be more the kind of person who would appear in a story."

Alex grimaces at the mention of amplifying flaws. How exactly does that apply to him. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Does it now? I've described a pattern that's been widely observed about Named. Now suppose I asked you to speculate as to why we observe this pattern?" 

"My very first thought is that a story implies an audience. That would invite the question of who the audience is but I think because of the circumstances that it's plausible for us to be the audience as well as the actors. I guess that makes it not really an answer though. The other guess for who the audience is, would be the gods above and below.

"Alternatively, going off the idea of the Named being chosen by the gods they could be champions of a sort. The Named being champions of the gods doesn't really explain them having magnified flaws though, or why their lives are more like stories. Unless those are somehow part of the rules of some great game."

He pauses for a moment worried he's getting too close to things he shouldn't know.

"I think I'm tending back towards the idea of an audience though, someone or something wants a good story. Perhaps for the same reasons we enjoy stories and has put a system in place to ensure many such good stories."

"What sort of system? What are its rules, its mechanisms, how does it operate? 

"Suppose I told you a few observations: first, that new Names and patterns sometimes appear of which there's no prior record; second, that many patterns such as numerology seem to grow more prominent over time; third, that ordinary people who are exposed to Named grow themselves more powerful and notable; fourth, that those with older Names, such as the Four Symbols of the Yan Tei, often command apparently greater powers than their predecessors. What might you infer from this? What questions does it provoke?"

He's a little surprised by the flurry of questions but he's quick enough to respond. He feels like he's starting to get a handle on this style of instruction.

"That implies a sort of momentum, like a ball picking up speed as it rolls down a hill. And also that whatever system creates new names is still working. Do these new Names tend to appear as people in relation with existing names or apart and in isolation? Those two suggest different mechanisms.

"If they tend to appear in relation whether as support or opposition it suggests the new Names are in a sense an outgrowth of the old. If they're in isolation that more strongly suggests some sort of outside intervention.

"I'm less sure what to make of the numerology and other patterns. Perhaps they are yet another example of building momentum, such patterns could happen initially by chance, or at least not because of the pattern, but as they're noticed, whether by the Named themselves or the system or the hypothetical audience, the narrative accepts those patterns as a part of itself and sustains them with the same kind of momentum that it sustains the Names themselves."

"Momentum, yes, that's a good way of putting it. Stories seem to have a kind of momentum. 

"One must be careful, however, not to take this insight too far. For example, the third observation I mentioned is widely believed, but the primary source cited by scholars to defend it is by a writer who made a list of every historical figure he could find, attempted to trace their connections to Named, and observed that quite a lot of them had at some point been in close contact with one. Do you notice any flaws in this method?"

He thinks for a moment. "There's two issues I can see. The first is that the Named may be guided by the narrative towards people who will one day be powerful, rather than the narrative making people near the Named more powerful. But that's a more subtle distinction."

"The second, and larger, issue is that there's a difference between studying powerful people and studying people in proximity to the named. Doubtlessly, the Named meet many people who don't go on to become especially powerful. Else a Named visiting a city would warp the world. So how much interaction is required? How close a connection? And the only way to judge that is by also documenting people who interact with the Named who don't go on to become powerful so as to find the boundary."

"Indeed! And if that experiment has ever been performed, I did not hear of it. So the rumor could be true, or it could be false. It could even be the sort of thing that becomes true if enough people believe it! Whether because of the influence of narrative, or because having rubbed shoulders with Named is something that attracts attention and prestige. This is one of the main problems with studying Named: It is dangerously easy to fool oneself about the causes of things. 

"I will now answer your earlier question about new Names appearing in connection with old. I answer thusly: I don't know! Many scholars may claim to, and some of them might even be correct, but I've not seen anything conclusive on the subject. Some of what 'everyone knows' about Named is probably true, but one can have a devil of a time figuring out which. The subtle possibility you mentioned makes this much worse; there is evidence that Named, especially those aligned with the Gods Above, often benefit from seeming coincidence. 

"I can say that Names sometimes appear in opposing pairs. One hero, one villain, to use the Iridesce terms. Veteran and Warrior, Anchorite and Sacerdos, Mender and Slaver. Also the Jade Wizard and the Tarnished Witch, although they appear to be a special case, and some whose relationship is more nuanced, like Rebel and Quaesitor.

"The Named who do not appear this way tend to have more...mutable allegiances than a clear dedication to Above or Below. And allegiances can change; the first Sinstained, including Miezia's own Imperator Khale, originally served Below, but three of the four had a change of heart. And the Tarnished Witch famously succumbed to demonic corruption." 

"I see what you mean about this being difficult to study. Did The Tarnished Witch's Name change when she did? And are there other things you are more convinced of despite these difficulties?"

"According to surviving lore from that period, yes, she was once the Silver Witch. And yes, there are other observations about Named that I've come to believe are generally true. These observations, and some possible inferences therefrom, will be the subject of our talks for the next few weeks, as well as some archetypal stories that have come to be associated with the teaching of namelore. 

"First, however, I shall briefly venture into theology. It is widely believed by many scholars that, as you hypothesized, Creation itself reflects some conflict between the Gods Above and Below. Interpretations on this basic theme vary, of course. The Yan Tei see it as a shifting balance like the tides or seasons; the Miezans see it as a proxy war, and mostly argue about who should win it; the Iridites are divided as always, but many use metaphors of art or music — many composers, different visions. Suppose we assume something like this is true: There is a competition between the Gods in which Creation plays an important role. A game, if you will. 

"Given what we've established already, what are some things you conjecture might constitute a move in this game?" 

"Granting a name to a new person seems like it probably is one. I could also see them having less dramatic ways of arranging events by sending people visions or just directly controlling and animal or a natural event like a storm."

"So goes the theory, yes. There are enough documented cases of Named receiving visions, miracles, or blessings to suggest some kind of favorable connection to the Gods. The unusual fortune experienced by heroes is another plausible candidate for divine intervention. And of course there are the various powers of the Divine and Infernal realms, with what appear to be their own rules and behaviors. To act on Creation, even they must typically be invoked by mortals, whether priest, magus, or Named, although the manner in which they subsequently affect the world can differ greatly from the caller's intent. The Fae similarly, although their ties to the Gods are less clear.

"Direct actions by Gods, such as control of animals or storms, has not to my knowledge been observed, unless invoked by a Named with a connection to these things. Even in those cases, it can be unclear whether the results come from Named powers or from the Gods they called upon. There is the possibility of more subtle nudges, which are difficult to distinguish from the workings of Fate through stories. 

"What does seem supported by the evidence is that Named are some manner of asset to the Gods. Throughout our lessons, it will be important to keep this in mind. Any study of Named would be incomplete without considering the hypothesis that their existence serves the deliberate purpose of some powerful entity. Many events and stories throughout history look somewhat different, when seen through this lens. I will occasionally ask you to consider this angle in our coming lessons; to ask, if we assume a particular outcome were the result of deliberate action by Above, Below, or both, what it was intended to accomplish, and what that might say about the motives of the Gods." 

"I'll do my best. The idea of opposition is also interesting that often an action by one will be met by counter-action by the other." And it gives him the suspicion that there's another person being looped in time as his opponent. He does his best to set aside that consideration for the moment.

"Some theories hold that this is one of the fundamental constraints on interventions by the Gods Above and Below. But that's enough of theology; we were talking about Named..."

Trefoil continues to be helpfully informative while the caravan makes the long, slow journey towards Arbis. As the Umbrican hills and forests give way to rolling farmland, the famous Avernian road enchantments granting swiftness and ease of travel, the old gnome tells Alex of Named and their stories. He talks of patterns of three, teams of four, and bands of five; of past Imperators and their often violent ends at the hands of Victorious Commanders; of dramatic irony and why even a normal person should never under any circumstances declare themselves invincible. 

Alex learns that Names in the fullness of their power grant three aspects, enhanced senses and powers, and a resistance to poison ("it would hardly be very dramatic for a Named to be killed by roast duck, now would it?"). He learns that Named who adhere close enough to villainy do not appear to age, but that their typical life expectancy is nonetheless rather short ("being stabbed by a weapon of legend is terribly unhealthful"). He learns that Names vary strongly by culture of origin, and that one can discern much about a people by studying the Names they hold in high esteem.

After about a week of tutelage: 

By studying with a learned scholar, you have gained 1 Name Lore XP!

Alex soaks in the knowledge. It could well save his life or the lives of people he cares about one day. It's also fun having discussions with someone knowledgeable. In his spare time, he'll study some more from the book of Petronian law and review Jen's medical text.

There is not a lot of downtime during the day, and at night it's often too dark to read, but he can squeeze in some study nonetheless. He receives a mostly comprehensive overview from the first few chapters, as the rest are dedicated to the layered, messy, and often contradictory centuries of Tribunal rulings.

The Code of Petronus begins with, and flows from, the Petronian Oath, first sworn by Petronus himself.

“I, [name], hereby swear my everlasting loyalty to the Miezan Empire, and through the Empire to the Petronian Orders and their members. 

“I will not deprive nor attempt to deprive any Order magus of his magical power. I will not slay nor attempt to slay any member of an Order, except in justly executed and formally declared Wizards’ War or by Imperial writ. I hereby understand that Wizards’ War is an open conflict between two magi who may slay each other without breaking this oath, and that should I be slain in a Wizards’ War, no retribution shall fall on he who slays me.

“I will abide by the decisions made by fair vote at Tribunal. I will have one vote at Tribunal, and I will use it prudently. I will respect as equal the votes of all others at Tribunal.

“I will not endanger any Order through my actions. Nor will I interfere with the affairs of Imperial court except by Imperial writ. 

"I will not deal with devils nor demons, lest they wreak everlasting havoc on myself and my fellows.* I will not molest the faeries, lest their vengeance catch my fellows also.

“I will not use magic to scry upon Order magi, nor shall I use it to peer into their affairs, except by Imperial writ. 

“I will train apprentices who will swear to this Code, and should any of them turn against the Orders and my fellows, I shall be the first to strike them down and bring them to justice. No apprentice of mine shall be called a magus
until he first swears to uphold this Code.** 

“I request that should I break this oath, I be cast out of the Order. If I am cast out of the Order, I ask my fellows to find me and slay me, that my life not continue in degradation and infamy.

“The enemies of the Order are my enemies. The friends of the Order are my friends. The allies of the Order are my allies. Let us work together as one and grow hale and strong.

“This oath I hereby swear on [date]. Woe to they who try to tempt me to break this oath, and woe to me if I succumb to the temptation.” 

*Added by order of Imperator Khale. 

**At this point, members of the Order of Cognizance recite: “I shall further the knowledge of the Orders and share with their members all that I find in my search for wisdom and power.” Others recite: “I concede to Cognizance the right to take my apprentice if he should find my apprentice valuable to him in his studies.” The Peripheral Code extends the right of Cognizance to claim apprentices from other Orders. 

Peripheral Code

The Peripheral Code consists of all decisions made in Tribunal since the foundation of the Orders. Its formal authority derives from the clause in the Code requiring magi to abide by the decisions made at Tribunal, but as every case is different later Tribunals are not bound by the decisions of earlier Tribunals. Indeed, there are contradictory precedents throughout the Peripheral Code, and few magi outside the Quaesitores are familiar with all of its details. Some points are widely known, however. 

In theory, the only penalty for breaking the Code is death. In practice, Tribunals only rarely impose that, instead settling for vis fines, time spent in service, or other lesser punishments. These punishments are backed up by the ultimate sanction, however, and refusing to submit to the punishment imposed by a Tribunal is always taken as reason for the death penalty. This is enforced by declaring a Wizard’s March, which casts the offender from their Order and thus deprives him of the Code’s protection. This is called “Renouncing,” and magi subject to a Wizard’s March are known as “renounced magi.” Since the criminal’s possessions are, by tradition, granted to those who kill or capture him, powerful magi are often interested in helping to hunt down the offenders. 

Desertion (typically to avoid the duties required of an Order magus) is also a capital offense.

Imperial Writ

In principle, the Imperator's rule is absolute, and his orders supersede the Oath. Reading between the lines, there are legal and practical caveats to the application of this power.

Depriving Of Magical Power

This clause is often invoked to punish actions against a magus that fall short of physical harm, such as damaging his laboratory or killing mundanes. The justification is that, by depriving a magus of the resources he needs to study, the miscreant is depriving him of some of the magical power he would otherwise enjoy. The core meaning of the clause, though, is that magi must not try to damage each other’s Gift.

Wizard War

The Code allows for a conflict between two magi to escalate to open conflict in certain conditions. When those conditions are met, the two magi involved may step outside the bounds of the Code temporarily to settle their differences. One magus initiates a Wizard War by sending a declaration of war to the other. The message must arrive on the next night of the full moon. The war then begins on the rise of the following full moon, and lasts until the rise of the next full moon after that.

Unjust or constant use of Wizard War is discouraged by the majority of level-headed magi. Occasionally, those who declare war too often find themselves cast out from the Orders.

Tribunals

Tribunals are central to the political life of the Order, as was always Trianoma’s intent, and thus they are discussed in detail in their own section, below. This clause is vital, however, as it gives Tribunals some authority to make new rules and interpret the clauses of the Code to fit changing situations.

Dealing With Demons

The Order of Justice hunts down and kills any member found summoning demons or devils. Historically, this was not the case, and indeed devil-summoning once featured strongly in Miezan conquests. Certain elements of the Orders still periodically lobby the Imperator to revoke this controversial clause.

Molesting The Faeries

Interpretation of this clause rests heavily on what counts as molestation. Arcadia and isolated faerie regiones scattered across Creation are good sources of vis, so few magi have been willing to argue that charging into a faerie area spells blazing, stealing large amounts of faerie property, and retreating to your covenant counts as molestation. This has made it rather difficult to say what is, and prosecutions under this clause tend to come down to politics, and whether other magi have suffered. However, it does not prohibit friendly dealings with faeries.

Magical Creatures

Notably missing from the Code is a clause granting protection to magical creatures or non-member magi. This was deliberate, as Petronus wanted the Order to be able to use force to compel people to join. Excessive interference with powerful magical beings, however, can still fall under “endangering the Order by my actions.”

Scrying

This prohibition is enforced with surprising rigor. Tribunals have ruled that it is illegal to scry on a non-magus, if by so doing you learn about the magus’s activities, that simply walking around invisible is magical scrying, and that you can be punished for using Intellego magic on a magus even if you didn’t know that he was a magus. There are also contrary rulings on many of these points, but in general Tribunals have taken a very strict view of what constitutes magical scrying. Exceptions are made on Imperial business (rarely) and for investigations by the Order of Justice (more frequently).

Apprentices

By contrast, the clause on apprentices is hardly enforced at all. Magi do not have to train apprentices, and the obligation on the parens to join a Wizard’s March against his filius is treated more as a social expectation than a legal duty. The special right of Cognizance magi to take apprentices from other magi is upheld, however, as is the duty of Cognizance magi to share their work.

After a few weeks, this nets him 1 Petronian Law XP as well.

Large parts of that code are distressing, but he supposes he already knew that joining an order was a choice you made for life. The weirdest part of that is the one about scrying. Magi must really value their secrets to justify that, which doesn't quite make sense if the whole goal is to share knowledge.

The book goes into some detail on the historical background; before Petronus, magic in what would become Miezia was jealously hoarded by dozens of small specialized traditions in constant competition for lore and vis. Officially, they all either joined the Empire or were destroyed under the first Primor Magnus, but mistrust remained. Even now, only the Order of Cognizance is legally required to share their findings with the other Orders, mainly because advancing the state of magical knowledge is their primary reason to exist. 

The journey to Arbis takes most of the spring; by the end, Alex's shades helpfully inform him that he is at Name Lore 1 (7/10 XP to next level) with a specialty in Miezian Named, and has gained 4 XP in Petronian Law and 1 XP in Medicine. 

The terrain gets increasingly hilly towards the end of the journey, but the road also noticeably improves, widening and smoothing and bearing an ever-growing amount of traffic. A couple weeks out, Alex notices that even inclement weather seems to avoid the road, rain sheeting into the ditches along the side during a thunderstorm.

Then the caravan crests a hilltop and Arbis enters view. The city, nestled in the foothills of the Dorsumine mountains, is massive, with three tiers of golden walls and enough buildings in its middle ring alone to house more people than twenty of Isvos and who knows how many Eriksmonts. The inner city and outskirts alike press against the river Clarus, bright with snowmelt and living up to its name, and overflow into a riot of buildings beyond. No fewer than five bridges and at least a dozen aqueducts march across the banks, somehow not obstructing the passage of river barges, and on the landside a nearly constant stream of carts and wagons bear grain and goods through gates taller than the palace at Isvos. 

A spur of land nearly bisects the river, surrounded by cliffs smooth enough that they could only have been carved by magic. A sprawling fortress commands its peak, turrets rising above the city in flawless stone. Even at this distance, Alex can feel the magic of it on his face and exposed skin, an orchestral thrum of latent power. 

"Incredible." He soaks in the view as much as he can while the caravan is still in motion. He thinks he might have been to the capital before but if so he was too young to remember it.

"Quite the sight, isn't it? The castle on the river is your destination, Grawtosh Academy. On the hill opposite," he points, "are the Imperial keep and palace, and the new Senate. Regent Falvia governs from there, when she's not visiting the provinces."

"It truly is. Thank you so much for your instruction and company on this journey."

"You're welcome, lad."

By completing a learning montage with a fortuitously-encountered mentor figure, you have gained 1 Might XP! 

"Although you've not seen the last of me just yet," Trefoil continues, patting the covered top of his cart. "I also have business with the Academy. I'm headed for the research buildings just outside the school proper, to start." 

He's briefly surprised by the pop-up and especially it's word choice but he tries to put that aside.

"Then we'll just have to travel together. What sort of research are you collaborating on?"

"Attempting to reconstruct what I can from before the Great Forgetting, with sufficient caution to avoid be driven insane by the process."

The fall of Gnostic civilization has come up before, along the journey, in bits and pieces as stories touched upon it. Over a century ago, demonic forces unleashed by the Tarnished Witch and her allies struck at the knowledge of the gnomes, somehow erasing centuries of accumulated learning and driving insane those who retained or sought to reclaim fragments of it. To this day, individuals who learn too much about the nonmagical workings of the world, as did the gnomes, have a tendency to lose their minds, giving rise to Named such as the Mad Maker and Mad Scientist. (Reading between the lines, Trefoil seemed far more upset about this than about Hellish monsters having subsequently eaten his homeland.) 

"A worthy goal. I wish you the best of fortune in achieving it."

"Many thanks." 

The caravan follows the (now greatly expanded) Miezan road to the looming gates of Arbis. A guard in slightly tarnished armor stops the caravan master at the gate, conversing for a minute before waving them through.

He holds up a hand when Trefoil and Alex approach, however. "Name and business?"

"I'm here to enroll at Grawtosh Academy."

"Gate toll is two victories a head." 

"That's odd," remarks Trefoil, a little icily. "There hasn't been a gate toll in decades. If I recall correctly, Guard Commander Rutilus was vehemently against the practice."

"Guard Commander Aemilianus updated the policy, gnome," sneers the guard. "You want an exception, make your own arrangements with his staff."

That's steep but he can afford it. He'll get the coins out and not make a fuss.

Trefoil likewise pays, his face expressionless.

The first thing Alex will notice is that the streets of Arbis are weirdly clean, even by the standards of an Imperial city. There is a surprising lack of nauseating ditches, rivulets of filth, or piles of horse manure. It barely even stinks!

(There is, of course, magic involved.) 

It would hardly feel like a city at all if it weren't for all the everything else. And there's quite a lot of everything else. Buildings multiple stories tall, extravagantly painted, and somehow taller as they travel inward! Engraved marble columns and stairs! Enormous temples! Whole squads of guards in full Imperial armor! Giant overhead aqueducts! So many people! So much noise! 

The main thoroughfare is wide, but busy, with multiple branches and side streets, and it winds almost like a switchback up the steep hills of Arbis. 

The going is slow and a good bit tiring, but Trefoil, at least, seems to know the way. They pass through a second set of gates, this one mercifully without a toll, and enter a part of the city that is notably more populated by scholars and magi. He leads the way to a cluster of low buildings with oddly patchwork construction; wood, brick, stone, marble, bronze and gold and stranger metals, even something that looks suspiciously like bone. He stops at a relatively mundane-looking stone building, which according to a charcoal-toned sign studded with stars that actually twinkle is called the Conjunction Inn. 

"Here's where we part ways, lad, at least for the time being. I need to make arrangements to deliver my findings." 

Grawtosh itself is hard to miss, its clusters of turrets visible behind and above yet a third layer of walls not far away.

Alex wonders if this is at least a little like what the gnomish cities were like before the fall but doesn't quite bring himself to voice the question.

"May you find fortune in your travels. Perhaps one day we'll meet again."

Alex will continue onwards.

Ivy drapes the low stone walls of Grawtosh proper, older and simpler than those of Arbis but vibrating merrily to Alex's magic sense. The gatehouse leading to the fort's grounds is curiously unattended, and leaning against it is a yellowed wooden sign that reads in Miezan: 

NEW STUDENTS

THIS WAY 

<---

It points north, along the green-grey wall that borders the scholars' quarter of Arbis.

That's slightly odd but he'll go where the sign points.

The noise of Arbis quiets, further along the wall. Smaller buildings press close, making a bit of an alleyway. The ivy thickens until barely any stone can be seen beneath it, and Alex begins to notice sharp thorns among the tangles. Soon the wall looks more like an overgrown hedge than a fortification. 

And then there's an archway made of brambles, leading to a dirt path flanked by more hedge-walls beyond, a path that splits in twain a few yards in. 

A scrap of parchment, impaled upon a bramble, flutters faintly in the breeze. Parts are torn to the point of illegibility, but the part that remains, if examined, reads: 

#################

You, sent out beyond ### recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
#########

Flare up like ######
############################

Let ######## happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No ####### is final.
Don’t let yourself lose ###.

Nearby is the ###### they call life.
You will know it by its ########.

On first glance that looks like a poem but he's increasingly convinced this is some sort of test.

He'll walk to where the path splits is there any indication of which direction he should go?

The castle is visible above the hedges, more or less straight ahead; the left path turns towards the castle after a few yards, and the slightly wider rightward path leads back in the direction of the gate, curving slightly out of view.

That isn't much to go on. He'll go left.

At first, it isn't so bad. The walls are thick and the nettles sharp, but there is space enough to walk between them unharmed.

It doesn't last.

The path twists and turns like a living thing, masses of sagging brambles bulging forth in ever-larger clumps, until Alex has to edge sideways to avoid catching his clothes on the thorns. 

An acrid organic scent fills his nostrils. It reeks of decay, or perhaps digestion.

And then there's another fork. 

Right, towards the castle, barely visible through an arch of thorns. 

Left, a wider path, a faint breeze tracing waves across the leaves of the hedge-wall.

He considers turning back as the path narrows but decides to keep going. If this is some sort of test he'll take the right path. The harder but faster route is the one he'll choose.

It's a choice he gets to make more than once, as the path splits again and again, narrowing all the while and closing in above his head. Soon he can't see the castle anymore.

It's no longer a question of keeping his clothes from snagging; thorns pierce through his shirt and pants as though they aren't there, scratching and stinging his skin like salted knives.

He's forced to a crouch, then a crawl. Everything hurts. 

Abruptly, the path makes a sharp right and opens up somewhat. Alex catches a glimpse of the castle through a gap in the brambles, though the path, having turned, doesn't go straight towards it.

No, wait - there's a gap in the base of the hedge just ahead. A muddy patch, and a slight raising of the brambles, barely wide enough for his shoulders and less than a foot high.

With some careful maneuvering, Alex has been able to keep his bag intact there's still just enough room to get it through this next obstacle with his body though and, well he's stubborn. He puts his misgivings aside and decides to risk it one last time. At this point his motivation is at least as much spite as any sort of philosophical statement.

The bag, pushed ahead of Alex, just barely fits through the narrow gap. 

After several extremely unpleasant minutes of crawling, shimmying, snagging, and scooching, he manages to get his head and shoulders through the gap in the hedges, then drag the rest of himself through. His back feels like it's on fire. 

He finds himself standing in a semicircle of hedges, near the base of Grawtosh castle, with a wide moat between himself and the wall. Grawtosh looms even taller from this angle, vibrating in Alex's magic sense; the pressure is almost musical, and he may imagine he can tease out a chorus of overlapping notes, each stronger than he's ever felt before.

Across the moat is what looks to be a small postern door; on Alex's side is a ramshackle boathouse barely large enough for a dinghy. 

...also, as the sting of the thorns subsides, Alex may notice that there's not so much as a scratch on him, and his clothes and bag are completely intact. 

The mud remains. 

A part of him was totally expecting that his clothes would be fine at the end but it's extremely relieving to be proven right about that.

He takes a minute to immerse himself in the music of the magic and calm down a little after that ordeal.

Then he'll go investigate the boat house.

There's a little boat inside! It's not, like, tied up or anything? It's just floating in the boathouse, easily reachable from a rickety walkway on one side, and entirely failing to drift anywhere. There don't appear to be...oars. 

It is at this moment that Alex hears a cheery voice say: "Hello there! What's your name?" 

He startles and lets out a little sound. He turns to look for the voice.

There's a person in the water! A very small person, perhaps half the size of Alex, his bare torso covered in scales, his eyes unusually large and gleaming with mirth. He waves merrily.

Is that a Fae or some sort of illusion like the hedges probably were. Either way it probably doesn't hurt to be polite. "Hello, I'm Alex." 

"Hello Alex! You can call me Melias." He dives and resurfaces just outside the boathouse. "Are you a new student? You look a bit old for a student." 

Alex almost doesn't notice, but the mud on his clothes is dryer than it was before he walked in the boathouse. 

"I am, I've been told most people come earlier."

"Wonderful, wonderful, that means we get to play! I'm supposed to tell you, don't get wet!" And Melias executes a dramatic dive, revealing as he does that his lower half is that of a fish. The muddy water of the moat ripples in his passage. 

That's a concerning rule when right next to water. He'll back up a bit.

The ripples fade away after a minute, and Melias doesn't resurface. 

Alex is beginning to notice that the air in the boathouse is extremely dry. His clothes are now caked with dried mud as if they'd been in the sun for an hour.

That's ... strange. He'll give the boat house a second look to see if he's missed something and then try to examine the little boat more thoroughly.

It looks to be a little wooden rowboat with tall sides and three small planks as benches. It's a different design than an Eriksmont fishing boat, but still easily recognizable. Small ripples from Melias's passing lap against its sides without budging it in the slightest. There's no oars, no rope, and not really any obvious place to stow either. 

(Now that he's paying attention, he can detect a faint hum of magic about the boathouse, barely distinct from the vivid orchestra that is Grawtosh. Hard to tell whether the boat itself is magical, though.) 

Is there something he could try to use as a  improvised oar? On a related note, is there some obvious destination on the other shore?

The boathouse itself doesn't look especially sturdy; he could probably pry a board loose. 

The far shore doesn't have a dock, but it's not too high above the water. He could clamber up from the boat and reach the postern door if he made it across. 

He'll try to paddle across with a board then. In any normal circumstance this would be a bad idea but so would going through a thorn hedge.

The board does not appear to object to this treatment.

A second after he hops in the boat, however, it begins to move forward without any input from him. 

Maybe he should have predicted that but oh well the board might still come in handy.

Halfway across the moat, a familiar voice yells, "Alex!" 

"Hello. Is it time for your game?"

By way of answer, a sopping wet sponge hits Alex in the face. Muddy moat water dribbles down his front, and the boat immediately reverses course. 

Melias cackles with glee. 

"I see, so the boat only takes me across when I'm dry and the boathouse is enchanted to dry me off. Could I get you to stop trying to make me wet somehow or do I just have to block your throws?"

As he speaks, the sponge flies back into Melias's webbed hand. 

"Play the game however you like, Alex! I am bound to trouble you, of course, and would hardly be denied my fun in any case. But a hint may be in order, if you've something interesting to offer in exchange." 

"And what sort of things do you find interesting?"

"Stories, or pieces of them. The calling card of a rebel who killed an emperor, a spearhead that slew a demon, the words that sundered a tribe, that sort of thing.

"That's practically a hint on its own, you know. I suppose you can owe me one. 

"Or you could be boring and agree to serve me for a year and a day." 

Meanwhile, the boat returns to the boathouse and Alex's clothes begin rapidly drying again.

Alex won't dignify that with a response. He doesn't have any precious artifacts like that and he's certainly not swearing to serve a fae just for getting an answer to a question. On his next attempt he'll try to see if he can block the sponge with his convenient board. Maybe it's futile effort but it would feel worse not to even try.

Melias pouts at him but doesn't interfere as Alex returns to the dock. He does call out "Alex!" and fling the sponge again. Alex's swing is dead-on, but the sponge swerves and curves around to splat Alex in the shoulder. It falls into the boat before rising again and zooming back to Melias.

The sponge isn't noticeably faster than a casually thrown rock, and if Alex elects to try a third time with this behavior in mind he'll find he can bat it away, but it does keep zooming back at him like a wet, angry bee. As long as the dripping board stays outside the plane of the boat's sides, the boat keeps going forward and not backward. 

If it seems like he can succeed he'll try at least a couple more times.

He's getting the hang of it after a couple tries, but keeping any splatter at all out of the boat for the whole journey is proving to be a challenge and occasionally he slips up and gets splatted by the sponge. He could probably bull through on sheer stubbornness with enough attempts? 

(Melias yells Alex's name before every throw. At least he seems to be having fun.) 

Is there any sort of pattern he can see? Melias did seem to suggest there was a way Alex could get him to stop but he's still not sure he's willing to pay the price for that. Actually, he does have an idea that it wouldn't hurt to try. "Melias, if I tell you a story will you let me across without sending the sponge at me?"

"A-ha, he talks after all!" replies Melias, twirling the sponge in a way that somehow manages to come off as menacing. "Can't do that, I'm afraid, faerie's honor, but nothing in my arrangement says I can't offer you hints. Has to be a good story, mind, a fresh story, a new story, the kind that tugs on the strings of Fate. The better the story, the better the clue." 

(Thanks to his lessons with Trefoil, Alex does have a decent idea of what would qualify, here. The kind of stories that Named live, and that warp their lives and experiences. Possibly one that's not quite settled into a larger pattern yet; a retelling of one of Trefoil's patterns-of-three would not suffice.)

An idea occurs to Alex... it's perhaps playing things excessively risky but he thinks it's just on the edge of safe.

"I might just have a story like that. It's not precisely a true story but it's not precisely false either. It's something that might have happened if things went differently. Does that sound appealing?"

There's a pause in the twirling while Melias considers. 

"Perhaps. Tell me this story, then, Alex, and I will share something of use to you in turn."

"On the 1st of Undindar, I woke up having had something like a dream of how that day might have gone. Here's what happened in that dream: I woke up and received a mysterious message which in effect suggested that I go to the festival early. After I finished worrying about how I got the message and talking with my grandmother about the message I decided to do as the message said..."

Alex goes on the describe meeting Lillian the first time and serving as get guide around the festival, the strange intervention of Aeschivus, and then the rather dramatic ending of the night with the woman putting everyone to sleep and waking up just before being stabbed.

Melias listens intently, eyes glittering. When the tale is done, he licks his lips. "That is a worthy story, Alex. If, perhaps, incomplete. It has the taste of a beginning to it, this...dream." Melias grins, showing interlocking rows of triangular teeth. "I keep my promises, of course. Your hint is that I am forbidden from interfering with guests using any power that belongs to me." 

That gives him an idea. Perhaps not the correct solution but an idea. On his next attempt he leaves the board behind and instead tries to catch the sponge.

This succeeds! Alex is now in possession of one (1) magic sponge. It tugs once in a feeble attempt to escape from his grasp, then falls inert. (This does still earn him a trip back to the dock to dry out.)

Melias laughs. "Excellent. Now when the school wishes to assign me to play games with new students, it will need to provide a more interesting toy. This one is yours; use it well, if you can." 

"If I'm understanding, I'm still not done. I freely offer you this sponge." He hold out the sponge over the water.

Melias snorts. "Clever! I indeed would not be able to throw it at you if it were properly mine." He grins. "But I don't particularly want it anymore, so I'll pass. I trust you'll find some worthy mischief to make with it. And if you do," he grins, "I do hope to hear the tale."

"We'll just have to see. If I have an opportunity I might just return to tell you about it." He carefully makes sure that the sponge is dry before putting it into his bag and making what he thinks is one last trip in the enchanted boat.

Melias bids farewell and disappears into the moat's murky depths with a splash. The boat crosses the distance this time with no further trouble, coming to a halt on the far shore where Alex can easily disembark.

The small iron door at the base of the fortress is unlocked; there's still not another soul in sight. 

Onward through the door and towards either the end or the next phase of this test.

The door creaks open. The hallway beyond contains several small metal rods set in sconces. Each one periodically launches a small volley of colored sparks, creating something resembling an ever-shifting obstacle course of multicolored sparks at various heights and angles. They don't look lethally dangerous, but they do look hot enough to cause burns.

Now he's wishing the sponge was still wet, but really it probably wouldn't stop the rods from working even if it was.

He'll study this for a little bit. Can he safely approach one of the rods close enough to touch it? Are there any patterns he can observe if he watches long enough?

As a matter of fact, there are! The rods seem to cover each other in overlapping lines of intermittent fire, but Alex notices something familiar about the angles involved. A bit of mental geometry will reveal that there's a few gaps in the pattern produced by the rods. The timing of the shots is trickier, but after a bit of counting and puzzling it occurs to Alex that the shots seem to follow a particular mathematical pattern which varies by rod. 

There's a gap next to one of the rods a few paces down the hall, reachable by stepping just so between shots, standing here for four seconds and ducking there for three...

Aha, and if he reaches that rod can he remove it from the wall?

Yep! It comes loose from the sconce pretty easily. It keeps shooting sparks every [slightly complicated formula] seconds but this is fine as long as it stays pointed away from Alex. Conveniently, this opens up a gap in the pattern next to another rod a bit farther down the corridor, and if he keeps this up Alex will find himself at the end of the hallway with a half-dozen rods. (He could also dismantle the whole thing, if for some reason he wants a whole bunch of spark shooters or a clear corridor.)

He considers it. But even if the school lets him keep them he doesn't expect he could find a use for more than a couple of them. Now that he's past the obstacle he'll try to examine one of the rods a bit more closely, is there any way at all for him to turn it off?

There doesn't seem to be! At least, not obviously. 

At the end, the corridor makes a sharp left; he can't see past it just yet. 

If he can't control them at all then he'll leave all but three of the rods behind and keep those carefully held in his hand and pointed away from himself and anything he might damage as he moves to the corner and carefully looks around the bend.

The corridor travels another few paces, then opens into a rectangular stone room, thirty paces across and maybe twenty wide. On the far side of the room, perhaps ten paces up, is a sizeable alcove with a large wooden door. There's no stairs, just sheer stone wall. The room is illuminated by a half-dozen crystals ensconced in the walls, no two the same color or height. 

On the floor — no, not on the floor, but floating about six inches above it — is something like a cross between a mattress and an enormous rectangular pillow, with a fluffy tassel sticking upright out of the middle. 

Huh, a fourth trial. Does that mean  there will be a fifth and a sixth or is he miscounting?

He will leave the rods behind at the entrance to the room facing back into the corridor and try to get onto the pillow. That seems to fit the pattern with the boat from before.

Aside from being unusually soft and squishy, the pillow supports his weight without difficulty. The tassel bobbles in the motion as though completely unaffected by the tendency of things to move down instead of other directions. The pillow doesn't leap into motion, though.

That would have been too easy.

He had to try though. With that test done he turns his attention to the multi-colored crystals in the walls. He'll pick one at randomly and see if to responds to him touching it.

There's only one crystal, green and halfway across the room, that is low enough he can jump to touch it. (All the others are nearer the high ceiling). It's cold to the touch, almost like ice, and it...maybe dims briefly when he pokes it? It's hard to tell. 

He'll try a couple more times to see if he can get a more definitive response. If not... well he does have those rods can he aim one of those to hit the crystal and see if that gives a response?

Nothing more definitive, no.

Attempting to naiively aim a spark-rod at a crystal from the entryway results in...the spark vanishing before it gets there, actually. One moment it's zooming happily along, ten paces above the floor, then, at what Alex knows is less than the actual range of a spark-rod, it's gone. 

Now that's interesting. He'll try getting closer to see if the burst always disappears at the same distance from the crystal.

Nope! After a few tries from a few different angles, Alex may notice that when the sparks wink out, it's always in a spot that aligns with a crystal; for instance, there's a blue crystal on the right wall eight paces into the room, and several sparks vanish eight paces from the entryway. (One or two get past, though, and vanish twelve paces in; there's a yellow crystal on the left wall twelve paces in.) 

What about the green crystal that's lowest to the ground can he get a spark to hit that if he aims at it from relatively close?

Yep! He needs to come at it from an angle, either a few paces closer to the entryway side of the room or the alcove side than the crystal. It goes dim for several seconds after it's been struck by a spark, then gets bright again. 

...around this time is when Alex notices also that the rod he's currently holding is shooting sparks approximately the same color blue as one of the farther crystals.

... do other rods shoot sparks of colors matching the other crystals? If so he'll backtrack to retrieve one that matches the green crystal and see if that has a different effect.

The six rods he removed from their sconces to create a safe path turn out to be six different colors, and the same six colors as the six crystals. When the green crystal is struck by rods from the green spark, it...turns out that the green crystal gets bright again just a moment after the green rod fires off another spark! If Alex keeps the green rod pointed at the green crystal, the green crystal will get hit by sparks at exactly the rate required to keep it from getting bright again. 

Well then, can he arrange for that to happen without having to stand here holding it? Is there perhaps a convenient hole in the wall or the floor to support this?

Yep, now that he's looking for it, he spots a little hole in the stone floor below each crystal. Once there's a color-coded rod in each slot, merrily sparking at its corresponding crystal, the room's lighting is considerably more psychedelic. 

This does not appear to have an obvious effect on the floating pillow-mattress-thing and its waving tassel, nor does the room seem to be otherwise changed. 

He really expected that to work. It would have been too easy though he supposes. What to try next? Well, he just tried to sit on the pillow before. What happens if he tries to lift it?

Well, if he grabs the bottom of one side and tries to pull it up, it seems to resist being lifted just like it resists falling down. 

Well, there's still other things he can try.

Maybe if he sits on it and tries pulling up on the tassels. Come to think of it he now heavily suspects that whatever the control scheme works when you're on it.

Pulling up on the big central tassel causes the giant pillow-thing to rise! And, more generally, it moves in the direction he tugs the tassel, up to maybe a running pace.

He can now glide across to the alcove on the pillow, if he so chooses.

... He really should have investigated the pillow more first. Oh well, he got there in the end. Now he has to decide if he wants to bring some of the rods from the previous trial with him. After a few seconds of thought he decides on yes and goes back to collect another two rods and then he guides the flying pillow up to the doorway.

It's a little bit awkward to keep the rods pointed at not-him and not-the-flammable-pillow but he can manage if he tries. 

This door is also unlocked! It opens into an L-shaped hallway lit by windows overlooking the river, which in turn terminates in a smaller wooden door. 

By solving a difficult puzzle using mathematical reasoning, you have gained 1 Artes Liberales XP! 
By completing the Trials of the School of Many Towers, you have gained 1 Might XP! 

He'll dismiss the notification and continue onwards to the door.

It opens into a slightly dusty courtyard containing several large pieces of furniture and two men in dark wool tunics, one short and stocky with a wide leather tool belt and the other taller and younger-looking with hastily rolled-up sleeves. The first spots Alex entering the courtyard and waves him over.

What's Alex doing with the spark-rods? 

He is going to try to make sure they don't point anywhere they could cause a problem and otherwise try to act like it's normal to be carrying sparking rods around. He expects the men will have an opinion when he goes over to talk with them.

He expects correctly.

Tool Belt starts speaking as soon as Alex is in earshot. "You the new one from the street posting? Grab the other — ack!" He is interrupted by an orange spark shooting out of a rod and skittering across the cobblestone, and his expression goes from intent to furious. "Blast it, man, are you insane, stealing artifacts from the magi? You trying to get us all whipped?" 

Sleeves Up refrains from commenting for the time being, eyeing Alex suspiciously from the other side of a finely-carved pine dresser. 

"I'm a new student. It sounds like you think something else is happening?"

"A new — what were you doing in the servants' quarters then?" His tone is wary, now, but still suspicious. (A further sputter from one of the rods doesn't help. Both men wince.) 

"The what? The place I just came from was a series of puzzles."

"A series of what...That door you just walked out of leads to the scullery and laborers' —" a nearly simultaneous pair of orange and blue sparks interrupts him again, "— bunks. Ah, blight it, this is above my pay grade. Leave the furniture, Theve, we're escorting this fellow to Pellia. She'll know what to do with 'im. You, come with me, and keep those things pointed at the ground," he adds to Alex. 

"I can do that." He will indeed ba careful about the rods even if a part of him really wants to check if the door is indeed going to another place than where he thought.

The as-yet-unintroduced laborer leads Alex to a different door, Theve bringing up the rear while keeping a nervous distance from the sparks. This close, Alex notes they both seem to have the same shade of dark grey hem to their tunics.

Several corridors and a spiral staircase later, they're knocking on an office door and a woman's voice says, "Enter." 

As the three of them file in, Alex notes the layout of what appears to be a small personal office. It's taken up mostly by a large wooden desk and a set of shelves containing scores of labeled ledgers and a single clay figurine of a gryphon on the top shelf. One window in the back overlooks a larger courtyard. There's a marked slate and an open ledger on the desk, a small iron box against the wall, and an enormous ring of keys hanging by the door. 

An aged and severe-looking woman sits at the desk; she's wearing the same shade of grey as the laborers' hems. She looks up from the desk with a frown. "Cossus, good to see you, how goes the furnishing for Magus Murena's — what in the Hells was that?" The sparks strike again.

Cossus only slightly flinches this time. "Fella says he's a new student," he replies. "Got some kinda magic wands on 'im." He says this in the tone of someone still deeply unconvinced they weren't filched from somewhere.

"They were elements in what I thought was an entrance exam involving a hedge maze, the moat and a puzzle involving these wands. I was expecting to be met by a professor when I finished. Given that I wasn't, I'm questioning the circumstances of me undertaking those tests. The Fae running the moat portion seemed to confirm it was the faculty who gave him his task."

Pellia gives him a sharp look when he starts talking about an entrance exam, and by the time he finishes it's practically lacerating.

"Fae in the moat, my arthritic kneecaps," Cossus grumbles. "You think we're dense? Grawtosh doesn't even have a moat." 

"Not entirely true," says Pellia. The other two staaaaare. 

Pellia stands and walks around to the front of her desk, eyes still firmly on Alex. "Hand over the wands, please. Carefully," she adds, with a glance towards her highly flammable surroundings.

"Alright." He carefully hands them over.

Careful to keep them aimed downwards at all times, Pellia taps each wand thrice against the wall. No more sparks issue therefrom. 

"You say that you are a new student? Do you have any documents to that effect?"

"I have a letter of introduction from a mage from the Order of Dreams."

"Might I see it? I typically handle registration for new students," she gestures at the ledger on the desk, "so you'd likely have wound up here eventually."

Cossus is looking increasingly uncomfortable at the prospect of having probably pissed off an actual Gifted. 

"Sure." He goes through his bag and pulls out the letter. He made sure it was close at hand.

Pellia returns to her desk, spreading the letter out in front of her and reading it over intently. After a minute, she offers a single sharp nod. "This seems in order. Cossus, Theve, you may return to your duties. I will take matters from here."

Cossus and Theve don't need to be told twice, and make haste for the door. After they've left, Pellia turns her gaze on Alex again. "Master Alexandr, was it? Maga Lilian writes well of you. I would nonetheless appreciate a more...detailed account of how you came to be in the service courtyard without, apparently, passing through the gate."

"The gatehouse looked unattended and there was a sign that seemed to direct new students to follow the wall towards another location..." Alex begins his story and then goes over the hedge maze, the strange moat and boathouse, and the corridor with it's mathematical pattern and the way he used the rods to let him move the floating pillow unhindered. He leaves out a lot of details including the fact that he kept the sponge.

Pellia listens patiently, seemingly unfazed by his description of events. When he gets to the pillow, Alex hears her mutter, "So that's where that went," and sees her make a note in her ledger.

When he's finished, she thanks him without fanfare. "Your letter seems in order, so we can proceed to registration and placement testing. Maga Lilian indicated you wished to enroll as a future apprentice to the Order of Dreams, that you had a passable but not comprehensive education in liberal arts* and magic theory, largely self-taught, and that you have not yet been opened to the Arts. Is this all correct?" 

*Here referring to common academic subjects like grammar, logic, geometry, and astronomy.

"That's all correct to the best of my knowledge."

"Good, then our next steps will be to contact the Order of Dreams and schedule your placement tests." Pellia is brusque but thorough, explaining that Grawtosh tests incoming students on their knowledge of Petronian and Imperial law, magic theory, written and spoken Miezan, and liberal arts, all of which must meet a certain minimum standard before a student is opened to the Arts and formally apprentices to an Order magus. "You will need to present yourself to the Order of Dreams for induction and to receive your scholarship stipend, and you will sleep in the Picus Wing dorms they share with the Order of Device. There is some...hostility, between the two Orders, so I warn you now that any unauthorized dueling, magical or otherwise, among students will not be tolerated. You seem old enough to know better than to engage in petty squabbles, but nonetheless. 

"After your placement tests, you will be assigned courses to correct any deficiencies in your education before your apprenticeship begins. The current Order of Dreams head, Primus Centho, has been looking for apprentices, but it will ultimately be up to the Order to decide on a master for you. Once you've demonstrated basic proficiency, Grawtosh has advanced classes in some magical subjects as well, for those apprentices whose masters work near the school and are not presently teaching them or using their labor, or for certain focused specialties such as Aetherics war magic or Wrath metamagic." 

Pellia also covers the basics of student conduct, which are mostly unsurprising given what Alex has read of Petronian law but also includes things like "don't assault or enchant the servants"; and how to get around Grawtosh, which mostly boils down to "the Atrium is always down and to the left", "ask a resident if you get lost" and for some reason "don't ever go more than nine floors up without an escort." She also gives directions to the Picus Wing (or rather, directions to the Atrium from here, and to the Picus Wing from the Atrium.) "Second door on the left after the landing is the Order of Dreams office. I recommend heading there after we're done here."

Meals are in the Prytaneum thrice daily; magus laboratories and other Order wings are off-limits without permission, the library is three flights up from the Atrium, don't go in the sealed corridor on the fifth floor, storage rooms are locked and She Will Know if anything is taken from them, any damages of school property will be reported and charged to his sponsoring Order, bring any maintenance issues to her or her staff (they wear grey).

"I don't arbitrate disputes between magi or students, that's Order business, but if you are damaging or disrupting a space I will see you removed from it. Questions?"

"I think that's all pretty clear. I am curious if you have an idea what happened to me with those trials, given those aren't a standard part of the new student procedure."

This earns Alex a wry smile. "Our work here is to teach and test, and Grawtosh can have its own opinions about what that ought to entail. Students who explore its corridors sometimes report similar challenges, though it's rare to hear of the test seeking out the student." Her smile fades. "More than once, it's been for a Named who later tried to assassinate an Imperator. Your experience has...political implications. I'd advise keeping it quiet until you feel prepared for any attention it may bring." 

He starts to try to keep a straight face then realizes that might itself be revealing and eventually settles on saying, "I'll keep that in mind."

Pellia either has a better poker face, or had him pegged from the moment he walked in her office wielding a pair of minor artifacts from Grawtosh's obscure depths and has no further need to update. Taking bets as to which one? 

"If there's nothing else, I shan't keep you farther." 

"I think that's everything. I'll just go ahead and head for the Order of Dreams offices then."

He pauses a moment in case she has a correction and then he follows the instructions for reaching the Atrium. Those are really weird instructions to be clear. He tries to pay attention to see if he can get any sense for how the spatial magic that has to be present is working.

Grawtosh: Is magic! Very magic! Kind of overwhelmingly magic, actually! It is hard to get a sense for anything over all the MAGIC. 

Alex's magic sense isn't very precise, but his understanding of math is considerably more so. The corridors of Grawtosh are not consistently inconsistent, but at least some of the implied inconsistency vaguely reminds Alex of some postulates he's encountered regarding higher dimensional spaces projected onto lower dimensions. 

The corridors do seem to mostly behave themselves for now. Alex soon finds himself exiting a side door into an absolutely enormous circular chamber whose curved, columned walls are covered in dozens of bands of runes and whose ceiling...does not appear to exist. To all appearances, the afternoon sun illuminates a fractal mosaic of polished stone, across which scurry dozens of servants, students, and apprentices on various errands in an almost hypnotic clockwise rush. After long minutes in dimly lit corridors, it's kind of dazzling. 

It's beautiful. He just soaks it in for a minute. And then he starts looking for the door that will lead him to the Order of Dreams.

Directions: Complete one-and-a-quarter circuits of the Atrium floor, take the first large staircase on the left up three flights, turn right along the corridor and go up another flight, take the second door on the left after the landing. 

The landing in question is bracketed by a long hallway on the left and a pair of windows overlooking the river on the right. The floor is tiled in irregular mosaic: small pieces, mostly blue and silver, a pattern that isn't quite a wave and isn't quite a sky. Farther down the hallway, the mosaic gives way to a stone floor worn smooth by use.

Turning down the hallway, the second door on the left opens into a low-ceilinged room, eclectically furnished with a wide table, mismatched chairs, a couple desks, and a few shelves of varying height. Every inch of the ceiling is covered in a massive, multi-part painting centered on a group of magi, conjuring beautiful scenes outward in radiating spokes towards an enormous audience near the walls: nobles, scholars, soldiers, foreigners, angels, devils, demons, fae, and magical beasts familiar and exotic. 

A water jug sits on a shelf under a small window, overflowing slightly and dripping onto a small collection of decorated cups. A half-dozen scholars cluster around a table covered in books, scrolls, and drawings. They don't appear to notice Alex immediately, absorbed as they are in a cheerful argument over a half-finished sketch of a Scaled One. 

A blond youth is strumming a lute in a chair by the window — no, actually, he is making lute-strumming motions, and lutelike sounds are emanating from the total absence of a lute in his hands. 

Fascinating. Alex takes a few seconds to just take in the room and then he'll speak up. "Hello. I'm a new student and Pellia sent me here."

There's a bit of a scramble at the table and then, by apparent consensus, a black-haired woman with a paint smudge on her cheek stands to greet Alex. "Oh, um, welcome! Primus Centho is working right now but he said to get him if — Chariclo would you go check the Liminal Lab?"

The blond woman so addressed makes a face. "Oh, must I, he hates being disturbed at work." 

"He never says anything," objects a freckled boy holding a quill. 

"Yes and it's horrible." But Chariclo gets up to brush past Alex into the hallway. 

The musician waves without missing a note. 

"Thank you. I was inspired to join the Order of Dreams by Lilian Weald and that's how I ended up here. I got the impression that this order is fairly new so maybe one of you knows her?"

"Oh yes, Lilian's wonderful," opines the first speaker, to knowing nods by a couple of her fellows. "I'm Marcia, by the way." 

"You're pretty old for a student," remarks Freckles, earning him a Look from Marcia.

"So I've been told. But I don't think anyone's too old to learn new things."