Chapter 10
The five sects of the Hermetic Order of the Aegis each worship a fragment of The Nameless Goddess. But rumors persist among students of a hidden sixth sect that follows a darker fragment of the lost goddess.
Day 2, Smeltesday
I held the heavy blade in my hands, the grip chafing my palms as I swung. The Arming Sword struck the dummy with a muffled ‘clack’, bounced off, and fell to the dirt, causing me to stagger. I was forced to drop the weapon to right myself.
“What the fuck was that, SLATE?!” snapped Mystagogue Kellennar. He stormed over, a vein bulging at his neck. Before I could respond, he scooped up my training blade and waved it in my face, screaming a string of obscenities I would not repeat. My gaze fell to my feet in shame. His response was to strike my shin with the flat of the blade. I let out a yelp of pain. He smacked me across the head. “You will only cry out when I say so. You will only drop your weapon when I say so. The next time I see a weapon leave your grip, I’ll have you doing pushups until you’re bleeding from your nose.”
“Y-yes, sir,” I stuttered. He threw the blade to the dirt and stormed off to assault another poor soul.
I gingerly scooped up the training blade, my palms raw. I grasped it in both hands, took my stance, and inhaled as he shouted his next command.
“Right collarbone strike!” I landed the blow as hard as I could muster.
“Left hip strike!” I retracted and struck again.
“You call that a hip strike?! AGAIN, like you want to kill the bastard. LEFT. HIP. STRIKE!” I struck again with more vigor. A blister on my palm burst. I winced but didn’t dare drop the weapon.
“Good. Now, crown strike!” I raised the weapon over my head and brought it down on the dummy’s head, visualizing Kellennar’s face. The blow landed with a loud CRACK but was too hard. I staggered and dropped my blade a second time. Before he noticed, I reached for it. I was inches from the hilt when he shouted, “HALT!” I froze. “AT ATTENTION, MAGGOT!”
I stood up straight, fists clenched, eyes looking off into the distance.
“What did I tell you, scum-sack?” he growled.
“S-sir! You s-said if I dropped it again, I w-would be doing pushups,” I recited, trying to hide my fear.
He smirked. “Then you know what comes next. Drop and give me fifty!”
I did as I was told and started pumping out pushups.
“I can’t hear you counting!” he mocked.
I started counting, “One, sir, two, sir, three, sir…” I made it to forty-five before my arms gave out. I fell to the dirt, wheezing, stars dancing in my eyes.
The next thing I knew, a pair of fingers were in my nostrils, yanking me up. I wailed, “Ow, ow, ow!” As I reached my knees, I was face-to-face with the livid, scarred face of Kellennar. He released my nose and struck it with a palm strike, breaking it with an audible crack. I fell over, howling in pain, clutching my misshapen nose as blood gushed from it. I felt a hand tangle in my hair and yank me to a sitting position. I opened my tear-blurred eyes to find his angry stare burning into me.
“I warned you, didn’t I? That you would do pushups until your nose bled. Now, guess what? You and EVERYONE HERE ARE GOING TO RUN LAPS UNTIL YOUR NOSE STOPS BLEEDING! NOW GET STARTED!” I shakily stood and started to run.
“OH NO, YOU PUSS-BAGS, DON’T! You all are going to run with your blades in hand! Better learn to run from a monster with a weapon now than in the field. If you want someone to blame, look no further than this sack of shit right here.” He gestured to me, venom in every word.
In shame, I turned back, gathered my blade, and started running at a steady jog. Every student glared at me as they passed my sorrowful pace. After ten laps, Kellennar started chasing students, slapping them with a club to pick up the pace. He struck me no less than six times. Finally, after untold laps, we were sent to our rooms to shower. I made my way back, my blade dragging behind me while the others passed with glares and sneers.
I climbed the stairs and slipped into my room, leaving my clothes and weapon on the floor as I stepped under a fall of hot water. There, as steam filled the world, I cried. Sobs wracked my body. After a while, I tried to fix my nose. The moment my fingers touched it, they flinched from the sharp pain. I gave up, dried off, and got dressed, the shirt drawing a cry of pain as it brushed my nose.
I made my way to my next class, geography and politics with Mystagogue Joseph. As I passed him, he grasped my upper arm. “I want you to get that nose fixed before class. Afterward, get back here post-haste,” he rasped before letting out a wet string of coughs.
“Y-yes, sir,” I said before rushing to the medical center. A nurse ushered me into an examination room. After a few minutes, an elderly Dracose, almost eight feet tall with dark black-and-blue scales, stepped into the room.
“Good morning, Master Maverick, is it?” he said, his voice kind. “I can’t help but notice your nose is not in a natural state. Well, not unless you make a habit of beating it against trees.” He gave a deep chuckle. “Or angering rather rude Ceangar instructors. Tell me what happened.”
I explained. “Ah, yes, Mystagogue Kellennar is a rather aggressive instructor. He wants the best for his students. He is harsh, but not immune to bias. If the rumors are true, a family of Darklings wronged him. Regardless of his past, he has run most Darklings out of the academy these past eight years. Those who passed from Slate often requested transfers. Trust me, it’s not pleasant, but you must consider this a trial by fire. Many metals are molded in the hottest of crucibles, but the strongest are forged through constant strikes of the hammer. Which will you be?”
“Don’t both give the same result?”
The doctor gave a warm, patient smile. “The end product may look the same, but they are different. A metal melted and poured is subject to heat for a single long span. Metal shaped through forging is set in the fire time and again until it is soft enough to be struck. The smith works it, folding it to work out impurities and strengthen it. It is put through constant abuse until it is quenched. Which do you think is stronger?”
“When you put it like that, I’d prefer not to have any flaws. But how do you know so much about forging, Doctor?”
He chuckled. “There was a time before I settled down as a healer when I also stoked a forge for the Order. While I was a student, I was what you call a Mastlok. But enough about me. Now let’s get that nose fixed.”
While I thought about what he said, he had two fingers from both his massive paws on either side of my nose. “Ready? I’m going to set it on five. One, two—” Suddenly, he tweaked his fingers, and my nose snapped back into place with a burst of agony. I yowled in pain.
“I know that was unpleasant, but the shock does you good. It would have hurt ten times worse if I had set it on five. Now, get to class and think about what I said.”
With a quick thank you, I made my way back. I slipped through the door as Mystagogue Joseph was lecturing. A few students glared at me, but not a word was said.
“There are several mountain ranges across Anogwin, and we are nestled in the crook between two. Can anyone name them?”
The Half-Dwarf, S18, raised his hand. “We sit between the Titan’s Fall and the Rezkane mountain ranges.”
“Almost correct. To our south is Titan’s Fall, but to our east is where it meets the Rezkane range. This gives our nation of Ventic a defensible location. The only nation we contend with is Affice, and our two nations have had a friendly partnership for several hundred years. We defend them from sea attacks; they defend us from attacks across the range. Now, onto our political structure. Who can tell me what kind of nation Ventic is?”
After a long moment, the professor let out an annoyed grunt. “We are a Corporatocracy, run by a conglomerate of corporations, with a higher ruling company that has our best interests ‘at heart’.” He said the last bit with air quotes and venomous sarcasm. “We are under the rule of the Iron Cypher Corporation. It provides national defense, law enforcement, and a portion of our cybernetic, vehicle, and weapon production. But remember, as a member of the Aegis, you are beholden to no nation. We fight to improve all nations. How many nations are there across Anogwin?”
Another long silence. “There are twenty-four nations on this globe. Each has its own political system, but we all share one economy. Does anyone know what I am talking about?”
A girl near the front raised her hand. “I believe you are talking about the Deckra system, sir.”
“Good. Now, what are the coins that make up Deckra currency?”
Again, S18 raised his hand. Go figure a Dwarf would know the money system. Was that racist? “Copper, silver, gold, lenses, mythril, and thuds.”
The professor smiled. “Very good. Now, how can a blind man determine a coin's value?”
An Orc blurted out, “By biting it.” A few classmates snickered.
“Not quite,” said Joseph. “A blind man can tell by the number of sides. Copper has three, silver four, gold five, a lenze six, a mythril seven, and a thud is circular. Now, how much is one credit worth?”
The High Elf, Gellar, raised his hand. “One digital credit is worth one silver.”
“Very good. Now, who can tell me the role of an adventurer in today’s society?” Almost the entire class raised their hands. I was not among them.
Mystagogue Joseph pointed to a Wild Elf with braided copper hair. “Adventurers are paid to slay monsters and find treasure.”
The teacher cackled. “Not quite. They are tasked with the dangerous jobs no one else is trained for. This can range from slaying dire rats in city sewers to searching ancient ruins for lost knowledge, from scouring a man-eating jungle for a rare plant to salvaging a farmer’s crops from goblins. We hear of heroes who slew liches or felled krakens, but more often, they are the ones doing the dirty, dangerous work in a dirty, dangerous world. And you all are training to be those adventurers.”
Muttering and groans met this. Mystagogue Joseph continued, “Yes, I know that’s not what you want to hear, but that is the truth. Now, your homework: study a topic on our home nation and write an essay on it. It can be anything related to the economy and infrastructure. Now git, shew, begone. I have work to do.”
I slipped from the classroom, my mind running through adventuring scenarios, debating the best way to kill an elder hydra when I felt thick fingers clench around the end of my tail. In mid-turn, I was yanked hard. My feet were swept from under me as I felt a painful pop at the base of my tail. A scream of pain was cut short as my face hit the tile floor.
I rolled over to find a massive, scaled, fanged snout a foot from my face. It was the Dracose who had been with Mallrimor since he started giving me trouble. Sure enough, beside the brute was the Brightling, smirking down at me, hands in his pockets. On the other flank was the High Elf, Gellar, snickering.
“Now, Kesher, why would you be so rude?” Mallrimor said sardonically. “We should help our lessors. Like this.” He slipped an arm under mine and hoisted me to my feet, play-acting dusting me off. I turned to hurry away when I felt pressing pain on my tail, followed by a stabbing pain at its base. I hissed, looking over my shoulder to find Mallrimor’s boot pressing my tail to the floor. The Dracose, Kesher, must have dislocated it. I wrapped both hands around the limb and yanked. It brought a flare of agony but did little more.
“Oh, how clumsy of me,” Mallrimor mocked before lifting his foot, sending me to the floor again. The crew chortled as they walked past, Gellar stopping only long enough to plant a kick in my side.
I stepped out of the medical center, my tail freshly relocated and so tender my pants felt like burning sandpaper. Luckily, my next class was study hall. I made my way back to the Aegis Halls, trying to keep an even posture. Not thirty paces from the medical center, I tapped my therra-node to check the time: 10:30 AM. I slipped into the study hall.
The room was a square with oblong desks in a circle. One wall was lined with crafting equipment, a corner walled off with sound-proof iron-glass for power tools and a forge. Another wall was lined with tomes and textbooks. Three-quarters of the chairs were occupied.
The massive Orc, Mystagogue Thrasher, sat at a desk comically tiny for his frame, half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. He looked up from a tiny book, raising a single stern brow. His gaze fell from my embarrassed face to my casted tail and gave a single nod of understanding. He stood and stepped over to me. He looked down at me for a long moment, his eyes contemplative. He raised a large hand to point at the back wall. “Craft area,” he rumbled. He pointed to the opposite wall. “Study area.” Then to the door opposite the entrance. “Martial and magic training area.” He brought his stony gaze back to me. “Talking is allowed if kept low. Study or craft, but be productive.” With that, he turned and went back to his desk.
I made my way to the nearest table and sat sideways across the chair to minimize the pain. I wanted to look at the crafting tools, but I felt I should wait. I tapped my therra-node and pulled up study material. In the corner of my vision, a small window read ‘Instructor Observation Allowed’.
I was half-focused on a guide to myst circuits. What mainly had my attention was a pair of students at the table beside me, a Ceangar and a Dwarf girl, whispering. One thing I learned on the street was that idle chatter could be valuable.
“You see that Brightling in our class? He’s so cute,” the Ceangar whispered.
“Yeah, the pretty boy. Not my type. Too… Elf-ish,” the Dwarf whispered back. “Oh, but did you hear about the secret sixth sect?”
“Wait, what?” The Ceangar pressed.
The Dwarf girl mock-covered her mouth. “I hear they are some dacker secret, elite group that works for a secret sixth fragment that’s some kind of evil goddess thing.”
“Whoa, I need more details. Elite how? Secret how?”
“I hear the members are super well-trained in more than one sect, like magic assassins and warrior technicians. I also heard they hunt special targets for their goddess.”
“What? Why? What does she do with them?”
“They say she eats them. That this evil fragment wants the souls of the innocent, and if she’s fed, she won’t kill entire cities.”
“No way. That can’t be true.”
The rumor perked my ears. A sixth sect following a sixth fragment. It sounded decker, but not impossible. I wanted to believe it. It just clicked. Not that the fragment was evil; I couldn’t see this Order following an evil goddess. But the rest made sense, especially after the doctor said he had worked a forge and healed before settling down.
After a while, I got up and made my way to the crafting side of the room to inspect the tools.
