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An Otherworldly Scholar - 200
🕑 Added 2025-02-04 23:10:25 +0000 UTCAN: big number, yay!
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“Bucko! Those aren’t mountains!”
The white walls of the Royal City of Cadria appeared behind the hill, elegant and smooth as if carved in a single white block of stone. From afar, the walls looked just like the northern mountains in the background, but as we approached, I noticed a silvery mana barrier covering the wall from top to bottom and into the earth. I couldn’t imagine how much mana would’ve taken to enchant the whole thing. Farcrest seemed like a kid’s first attempt at a sand castle in comparison.
“Ninety… no, a hundred and twenty-five meters tall!” I muttered as [Foresight] helped me with the calculations. I couldn’t help but laugh. This was precisely what a magic world needed: ridiculously high enchanted walls, impregnable fortresses, and magic schools.
Bucko remained unbothered by the majestic sight. Instead, he seemed more interested in the pumpkin patch by the side of the road. I had given Bucko one of Elincia’s Energy Potions for the last stretch of the trip, so we hadn’t stopped to eat since the morning.
In the middle of the pumpkin patch, a young man, barely more than a teenager dressed in the black tunic of the Imperial Library, examined the pumpkins with a critical eye. The hem of his tunic was forest green, which meant he was part of the Nature Circle. The lack of markings made me think he was a novice. His attire hindered his work.
There was another item a magical world needed: magical giant pumpkins. I examined them.
Cahdan Gourd Grafted Giant Pumpkins. [Identify] Giant Pumpkin plants grafted into the root system of a Cahdan Gourd. Botanical Experiment.
Silver and blue mana flowed through the stems into the fruits.
“Nice pumpkins,” I said as I passed by the young man.
He raised his head and wiped his brow, leaving a dirt trail across his face. Black circles surrounded his eye. Still, he smiled. He had short, blonde hair, just as pale as his skin. His jaw was comically square, with a strong neck and calloused hands.
“Thanks, they are a handful,” the novice said as Bucko sniffed a pumpkin near the stone parapet. The boy quickly pulled the pumpkin away from Bucko’s mouth. “I’d recommend caution. These are not ready for consumption yet.”
I pulled the reins, and Bucko complained.
“What do they do?” I asked.
My question caught the man by surprise.
“You can tell they have magical properties?”
“I have a good eye,” I pointed out. “And you are a member of the Imperial Library, so I assume you are experimenting with pumpkins.”
The novice rubbed his temples, bringing even more dirt to his face. Then, he slapped one of the pumpkins like he held a personal grudge against it.
“I am creating a new variety of pumpkin to grow in the ultra-cold weather of the northern lands. I grafted these into the stem of a Cahdan Gourd, but the results are… subpar. People avoid Cahdan Gourds because they don’t usually like to get their teeth turned into icicles,” the novice sighed. “Man, I wish the Preceptor would’ve rejected my project. At this rate, these pumpkins will cost me my place in the Circle. Father will kick me out if I return home before becoming an Adept… and I run out of time.”
The novice panicked like a Ph.D. student whose investigation was going nowhere. Venting to strangers was only the first sign that things were going south fast. Thanks to [Foresight], I could see his anxiety level rising by the second.
I cleared my throat.
[Foresight] sometimes felt like an invasion of privacy.
The boy resembled people from the Jorn Dukedom, except for his bulky frame and expressive eyes.
“Have you tried Orc Barley and Winter Lily?” I asked, examining the grafting point of the pumpkins. It was perfectly seamless. “I assume you are talking about the north-west because the north-east doesn’t get cold enough to need experimental foods. Your productive season is shorter, sowing in winter is impossible, and you have little available land due to the rough geography. In that case, Orc Barley is better than squash because you’d be able to crunch an extra production cycle each season, and you can plant high-density crops in reduced spaces.”
The novice was set aback, like I’ve read his mind. Still, it took him an instant to recover.
“That might work, actually. Winter Lily doesn’t freeze people’s teeth unless you distill its essence, and barley is a better match for the lily’s physiology,” he said but stopped mid-sentence. “Is it okay for you to share your ideas with me? This could be an important breakthrough.”
I shrugged.
“Ideas are a dime a dozen,” I said. “Also, mixing a flower with a grain might be harder than mixing two types of squash, and I don’t know how viable it is to cultivate Winter Lilies, so it will probably be a lot of work in the long run.”
With [Foresight] assisting my mental processes, not having ideas was almost impossible. I withdrew mana from the skill and sent it to standby. The downside of [Foresight] was that I hyperfocused on tangential matters. I needed to get going. After all, kids were more important than pumpkins.
“Grafting isn’t that hard. The Preceptors of the Nature Circle create new variations every year, so as long as the grafting is stable enough to last a season, I’ll be fine,” the novice said, pulling a small notebook and writing with a graphite pen. “May I ask your name, sir?”
“Robert from Farcrest, and this is Bucko,” I said.
The novice examined the horse.
“A mountain horse, it reminds me of home. I am Ralgar from Krigia, Herbalist. I am pleased to meet you,” the novice introduced himself.
Bucko held out a hoof expectantly but snorted when he realized Ralgar wouldn’t reciprocate the gesture.
Krigia was one of the poor dukedoms in the northwest corner of the kingdom, neighboring the Jorn dukedom. My assumptions about his food situation were accurate. The Kigria dukedom shared the mountainous region of the Jorn. Few valleys were suitable for large-scale agriculture, so they depended on Gairon grain whenever a Monster Surge interrupted a farming season.
Hearing Ralgar speak about his homeland was like hearing Lyra talk about hers. Both seemed equally excited about using their skills to improve the lives of their countrymen. Even if he didn't look like it, Ralgar had to be one of the most promising Herbalists of his land if he was accepted at the Imperial Library.
Suddenly, Ralgar paled.
Three young horse riders dressed in fencing clothes approached. The one in the middle had the crest of the white pheasant embroidered on his chest. Considering the quality of his clothing, he was noble. His hair was the same tone as Ralgar's, although his features were more delicate and his frame slimmer. Still, his broad shoulders and strong arms revealed he was a seasoned warrior.
The group stopped by the opposite side of the pumpkin patch and dismounted.
“I’ll take care of this,” Ralgar said. “Please, stay out of it. These are family problems.”
The noble and his retinue crossed the pumpkin patch through the middle without caring where they stepped.
“Are you a noble, Ralgar?” I asked.
“It’s complicated,” he replied, turning around and going to meet the newcomers.
Despite the distance, [Foresight] helped me pick fragments of the conversation.
“Father instructed you to focus on alchemy, not whatever this is,” the young noble said. His face was inexpressive, but a shadow of annoyance crossed his eyes.
“People need to eat—”
Before Ralgar could finish the sentence, the young noble slapped him across the face. Ralgar stumbled and fell to his knees over a pumpkin. The orange stains on his robe frosted.
“Father instructed you to focus on alchemy,” he repeated the same sentence in a monotone voice.
“Message received, Malkah,” Ralgar said, rising to his feet.
Blood was dripping from the wound on his lip.
Malkah vaguely reminded me of Sellen Jorn.
“What are you looking at, old man?” One of Malkah's followers said, pointing his finger at me.
I wondered if combatants power-tripping over non-combatants was the norm around here.
The companion didn’t take my silence kindly and stomped through the pumpkin patch.
“I don’t think that is a wise idea, young man,” I replied.
“Don’t talk back to me, serf.”
Using geokinesis, I rotated a circular patch of ground around the young man, forcing him to do a one-eighty. He tried to turn around, but the platform was too unstable, and he fell to the ground. Grunting, he stood and tried to reach me, but I turned the ground beneath his feet into a conveyor belt.
Bucko seemed entertained with the scene.
“Let’s go,” Malkah finally said, still not showing a hint of emotion.
His companion stopped fighting against my conveyor belt and, covered in dirt, followed his master across the farm. They jumped on their horses and returned to Cadria.
“I’m sorry for ruining your pumpkins,” I said, searching for a small vial of Healing Potion in my pouch. I handed it to Ralgar.
The patch I had used geokinesis on was beyond repair. Malkah and his goons' trail of destruction was ten times bigger.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to continue with the pumpkins… and that was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while,” Ralgar said, drinking the potion. The wound on his lip closed in an instant. Even the black circles around his eyes seemed to improve. “I thought you were an Alchemist or a Scholar, not a Geomancer.”
The conversation was somber, although he didn’t want to discuss the encounter. Instead, Ralgar thanked me for the potion and asked one last favor: use my geokinesis spells to plow the plot. I obliged. The plot was relatively small, and it only took me a few minutes to turn it back into farmable land after Ralgar retired most of the smashed pumpkins.
Ralgar wanted to keep me informed about his project, so we exchanged mail information.
“Is this your first time in Cadria?” Ralgar asked as I prepared to leave.
I nodded.
“Be careful with Imperial Cadets… they are not the most amicable bunch of all,” he said. “It isn’t just Malkah and his friends. It’s the norm.”
Alarms went off in my brain.
In their first letters, the kids reassured us that their assigned groups were tight-knit and supportive. I shook my head. They couldn’t have been lying to us from the very beginning. Or could they?
“Are you sure it isn’t just them, Ralgar?”
“If the Novices and Adepts of the Imperial Library are competitive, the Imperial Cadets are straight-out psychopaths. It takes a completely different wiring to survive the training at the Academy. Anything that hinders their success, they cut off, even people.”
My kids had already survived two years at the Academy, but I couldn’t help but feel anxious.
I said goodbye to Ralgar and urged Bucko to advance.
The road towards Cadria was flanked by small patches of land manned by Novices dressed in simple black tunics. Most of them had the green hem of the Nature Circle, but a few had the red hem of the Academic Circle—Scholars, after all, were the support of the support classes. I didn’t stop to see what they were experimenting with, but it caught my attention that everyone worked in teams except for Ralgar.
Along the ‘experimental plots’, unending grain and alchemical ingredients farms covered the valley as far as the eye could see. Herds of cows, pigs, and sheep were grazing on the fertile land. A few Novices were working with alligator-looking baby Skeeths without much success, all things considered. Their robes were chomped and torn apart.
The wall grew as I came closer to the city. Two statues of old men dressed in the robes of the Imperial Library flanked the gates and dozens of carts filled with goods waited by the side of the road for the toll operators to check on them. I advanced through the traveler’s line, but other than the merchants, there wasn’t a great influx of people at the eastern gates.
Suddenly, [Foresight] caught someone pointing at me from the guard booth, and an instant later, six guards in full armor, heavy, surrounded me. The one with the cape and the fancy pin had to be the captain.
“You attacked an Imperial Cadet,” the captain said without ceremony, his smile crooked at a strange angle due to the scars on his face. “Bad idea, traveler,” he added, snatching Bucko’s reins from my hands.
Behind the guards, Malkah’s companions exchanged a wicked smile. Malkah was nowhere to be found.
I put my hand in my pouch and took Grandmaster Astur’s letter. I handed it to the captain, with the Academy’s seal in front, wondering what was stronger: a Cadet’s accusation or the Grandmaster's summoning. I made my bet.
“Grandmaster Astur summoned me,” I said. “My name is Robert Clarke. I came from Farcrest Marquisate as fast as possible… despite the setbacks,” I added, looking over the captain’s shoulder at Malkah’s companions.
The captain’s face changed as his eyes went through the letter. Giving me back Bucko’s reins, he suddenly became very accommodating.
“Willow, Osprey, get horses and escort Lord Clarke to the Academy!” The captain yelled. “You, maggots, return to work. Nothing to see here.”
“Thanks, Captain,” I said with a slight bow.
No hard feelings.
The man bowed back and went on his way to hassle the merchants.
A half-gnome woman with a smile as wide as her face and a tired, tall bearded man who seemed to accept that he would be a gate guard until the end of time broke the line. They grabbed two horses from the boot and approached me from each side. Their horses made them stand half a meter above me, so maintaining eye contact was awkward. I wondered which one was Willow and which one was Osprey.
Bucko wasn’t happy.
We set off.
“Are you famous, mister?” The half-gnome woman asked, removing her helmet and hanging it on the saddle. Her short brown hair reminded me of Ilya, although her skin had a violet hue instead of light blue.
“I’m just a Scholar,” I replied.
Malkah’s companions stepped in our way.
The horses complained.
“He assaulted me! You should imprison him.”
I rolled my eyes. A wise man should’ve accepted defeat and saved some face.
“Kick rocks, kids. This is Astur’s guest. Want me to tell the Grandmaster you are holding his visitor back? Or would you prefer to tell him yourself?” The half-gnome woman said, cueing her horse to continue walking.
Malkah’s companions jumped to the side, their heads low like a beaten dog.
“That’s what I thought,” the woman said.
I felt the noble’s glares stuck to my back as we crossed the walls. They were so thick that it seemed we had entered a cave. I expected it to be more damp, but the passage was spotless, and it smelled like lavender.
“You should treat Cadets better, Willow. They will eventually become Imperial Knights,” the bearded man said.
“You know how hard it is for a half-gnome to become a guard, Osprey? I can’t let people push me around, and those twerps aren’t going to become Imperial Knights,” Willow replied. “Wanna bet?”
Osprey didn’t look like a bird of prey but a tired bear awakening from hibernation.
“You shouldn’t call the Grandmaster by his first name either,” Osprey sighed, ignoring the bet.
“Come on, he won’t know,” Willow said.
We emerged through the other side of the tunnel to a wide street packed to the punch, three times as broad as Farcrest’s market, yet there was no space for anyone else. The cognitive shock was too much for me to handle, so I had to tone down [Foresight] so I didn’t get a migraine. Osprey and Willow opened a path for me to walk safely from the carts and carriages that plagued the street. People moved to the side but ignored us.
I was entertained looking at the stalls and stores when, among the plagued streets, [Foresight] detected a group of pickpocketing urchins. They walked like shadows among the crowd, targeting unsuspecting victims while pretending to beg. I followed them with my eyes. They were skillful. Osprey nor Willow noticed the operation that was happening below their very noses.
One of the urchins, I wasn’t sure if it was a girl or a boy, snuck between Bucko and Osprey’s horse.
“Might you spare a coin, kind sir?”
“Come on, kid. Begging is outlawed,” Osprey said halfheartedly.
“Please, sir, it’s for my sister. She’s sick!”
[Foresight] told me the urchin was lying. Stealing right beside two city guards was beyond daring, but at least they weren’t trying to stab my back. For the past two years, we have received a dozen little pickpockets from Farcrest streets. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. Some were beyond our help, but most were smart enough to change their ways.
“If I give you a silver coin, would that prevent your friend from trying to steal my luggage?” I joked.
The urchin glanced at me confused but swiftly signaled his accomplices to scatter. Osprey and Willow stayed unaware. The acting was on point.
“T-that’d be mighty generous.”
“Be careful,” I said, handing them the promised coin.
A moment later, the urchin disappeared into the crowd.
“You are too generous, mister. If they need money, they can plow the fields and clean horse shit,” Willow pointed out. “The System knows I shoveled enough shit for a lifetime.”
“It’s Lord Clarke, not mister,” Osprey pointed out. “And you totally stole from people.”
Willow mindlessly picked her nose.
“My sister was sick.”
An hour later, we crossed a second wall, leaving the chaos of the markets behind. Suddenly, I was in a neighborhood of small manors with vineyards, fountains, and hanging gardens. The air was fragrant, the cobbled streets were neatly swept, and the buildings looked brand new like someone had painted them before my arrival. Even by earthly standards, this was beyond luxurious. The noise of the vendors and scalpers was replaced with the tickle of running water and the occasional chirp of birds.
As we advanced, the buildings became fewer but grander. There weren’t two identical buildings, almost like the projects of mad architects. Painted decorative statues of men and beasts adorned the boulevard with their stern marble faces. Gilded domes gleamed on top of the bell towers, and banners with the royal crest fluttered from the balconies.
I felt out of place.
My simple, travel-worn attire stood like a sore thumb. I expected someone to notice my presence, but no one cared. It seemed like I was invisible. [Foresight] told me something was wrong. I looked around to find the source of danger, but nothing was unusual in the bucolic inner city. Willow and Osprey exchanged an entertained glance. It took me a moment to notice the walls had disappeared. Their mana signature was still there, but the solid stone was as translucent as air. I could see the eastern road going uphill, the farmland, and the mountains far into the north.
“You should stay in the inner city unless you count on an escort, Lord Clarke. If you see the wall, turn around; it pains me to say it, but the outskirts aren’t completely safe at night,” Osprey said.
After half an hour, we reached the heart of Cadria. The royal palace, tall and white as the walls, dominated the inner city from the top of a hill. More than a palace, it was a stronghold with high walls and towers merging into a single, surrealistic building of blue roofs—a city within a city within a city.
I smiled. Magical-looking buildings were just what I was missing.
The Imperial Academy was built on top of a neighboring hill. It was a colossus of a building, half castle, half manor, and half cathedral. A ramp made of stone arches led to the main building, while dozens of steep stairs connected it to the gardens and meadows. A blue dome like a massive sapphire crowned the white facade of the main building.
Whiteleaf Manor looked like a shed in comparison to the Academy.
We climbed the ramp, and we reached the outer wall.
The iron gates were closed except for the ones in the center.
An aide dressed in the Library’s robes approached us.
“Lord Astur’s guest,” Osprey said before Willow could speak.
The aide bowed and invited me to descend from my steed.
Bucko seemed pleased to be called steed.
“This is as far as we can accompany you, mister. Put a good word for us with Astur,” Willow said as she turned her horse around.
“Please be careful,” Osprey bowed and followed her.
His words stuck with me, and I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
After nine days of travel, I finally reached my destination. However, anxiety gave way to excitement. It’s been two years since I saw the kids, and I was dying to see how much they had grown under the severe training of the Imperial Knights.
The picture of Malkah appeared before my eyes, but I shook my head. There was no way my kids would turn into anything like him.
The aide examined the letter.
“This way, sir. Sir Gwan Astur will meet you immediately.”
Comments
Ben Bass
TYFTC! Can’t wait for the reunion, although it is rather impressive that he is being pulled in to meet the grandmaster straight from the road.
ElAyVee
I hope for a bit more of calm before the next storm, maybe some "capital slice of life" before going into overdrive
Matthew
Rob's been having way too much fun being underestimated by everyone these past couple chapters. Now the shit is gonna hit the (magical) fan.
