I hadn’t been murdered in the middle of the night. Success!
I didn’t feel that successful, though. I felt exhausted, cranky, and a little bit numb. As it turns out, sleeping with a frost-enchanted sword in your arms has some disadvantages.
For the future, I’d remember to sleep with my dueling cane nearby instead of my sword.
I could already hear the sounds of the parade students heading their way toward the mess hall, trying to get in a meal before classes started. As much as it dismayed me to come into the presence of people again, my stomach was feeling neglected, so I decided to join them.
I winced at the damage to the wood as I unhooked my board from the doorway. There was no doubting that the board would be an effective delay, but it was going to do an unsustainable amount of damage if I had to keep it up for long. I’d have to look into getting a chain to replace it eventually. Possibly several chains. Ideally enchanted ones.
With that done, I realized I still wasn’t in my school uniform, and I’d been told it was mandatory for classes. Like all of the school uniforms, mine was primarily white, but it was accented with copper buttons and crimson epaulets to signify that I was a part of Phoenix Division. Red wasn’t really my color, but the uniform fit me better than I’d expected, and I had to admit that the floor-length overcoat was pretty nice.
I pinned on the shield sigil, and I immediately felt more like I was really attuned. I had a magical shield. I wondered how much it had to cost to provide every student with one of these. Did all our actual soldiers get them, too?
Putting the pin on also made me feel a good deal safer. I had no illusions that it would help me if Katashi came for me directly, but a protective barrier could help if someone else tried to get rid of me.
I resolved to wear the pin at all times. Even when I was sleeping. Especially when I was sleeping.
I belted on my sword — which I really needed to name at some point, all the best magic swords had names — and headed to the mess hall.
The scents hit me almost as soon as the building was in sight. I’d expected the dining hall food to be bland and uninspired, but the smell that filled the air were thick sauces and heavy spices. Some kind of curry, maybe? I loved curry, but I hadn’t had it since a family vacation to Dalenos in my youth. It wasn’t common in traditional Valian cuisine.
The line was less inspiring than the smell. It took me at least half an hour of waiting in the throng of students to get inside the door. I’d say it added to the anticipation, but I still would have preferred instant gratification.
I spotted a couple familiar faces amongst the students in the line. Patrick Wayland, Lisa Stone, and a few others that I’d gone to school with as a child. No doubt there were many others among my former classmates in the line who were too different in appearance for me to recognize. My three years of “private tutoring” had scraped my relationships down to the bone.
I didn’t resent my father for pulling me out of school. I understood his reasoning, his lack of trust for the system that had failed to adequately train my brother for his contest against the games of the goddess. I did resent his adamant refusal to allow me to visit with my friends. Letters helped for a time, but within a year, most of my friendships had atrophied from disuse.
When I neared the front of the line, I saw a list of meal options. I could pick from curried chicken, salmon, and some kind of unfamiliar pastry called a “cinnagar cake”. I picked the chicken and sides of seasoned potato slices and a mixture of vegetables.
It was a disconcertingly good meal. I grew suspicious. Were we being lulled into thinking we’d get excellent food so that it could be taken away at a later time?
Or maybe it was just the fact that this school was attended by those who had been wealthy enough to take an attunement test, and thus they had high standards. I wasn’t sure.
For the moment, at least, I wasn’t going to complain.
After a significant amount of searching, I managed to find an empty table to sit alone. I had a few minutes of precious silence, sipping the apple juice I’d chosen for a beverage and reading a book, before Sera manifested in front of me.
I didn’t even have a chance to groan before she’d put down her plate and sat down. It was too early for me to interact with the living, and in spite of my general fondness for Sera, she still was another entity and thus a toll on my exhausted mind.
“Corin.” She gave me a catlike grin, slicing into her own chosen dish with relish. “Good morning, brother.”
I closed my book, looking up to pin her eyes with mine. They were lighter than my own, more like my father’s.
“Good morning, my dear sister.” If my reply fazed her in any respect, she didn’t show it.
Affectionate terminology gamble: unsuccessful.
We continued our staring contest until I very deliberately smiled, speared a potato with my fork, and turned to bite it. “Mm. The food here is shockingly delicious. Think it’s a trap?”
“You’ve always been so suspicious of everything.” She raised her own fork, then speared one of my potatoes with it. My eyes flared in indignation, but she paid them no heed. “Even when we were children. Sometimes, you know, a potato is just a potato.”
I nodded. “Except that one. That’s the one I laced with a deadly toxin. I meant to serve it to one of my enemies later, but alas...”
She reached up, putting a hand over her chest. “I fear I can feel my heart’s last rapid thrums even now.” She contorted her lips. “Or, wait, they’d probably be slower, not faster, wouldn’t they? Alas, I feel the last glacial pulses of my frozen—”
“Both glacial and frozen? Seems a little excessive.”