Chapter Twenty Two

  One Day Into College

  The Peoples of the Created Realm was held in a small stone room with no windows, the only light was that of the single torch on the wall. The flickering warmth was eaten up quickly leaving much of the room too dim to take notes. Less than a dozen chairs circled a simple chalk board. Only half of the chairs were filled, each person took their seat as far removed from the others as possible.

  This resulted in at least one empty chair between the handful of people in the room. Freya’s fingers brushed the frayed edges of her notepad, she cursed herself for picking at the damn thing. It had been pristine this morning.

  The door swung open, bathing the room in light from the hallway. In walked a middle-aged woman with short silver hair and a very peculiar set of glasses. The woman paused and frowned, her glasses changing from large, round, and red-rimmed, to small, black, and rectangle rimmed. “How many times do I have to tell that fossil I will not teach in a broom closet!”

  The woman swung her hand and sparks flew on each of the stone walls. Floor to ceiling portals carved themselves into the walls. Freya let out a breath as the cool light of a cloud-covered mountain pass filled the room. The vegetation was a mix of green and brown cut in the center by a pair of small intertwined rivers.

  The stale air of the room quickly gave way to an earthy scent that brought a smile to Freya’s face. This is not at all how she imagined her first class starting. Though she hadn’t been able to conjure more than vague images of what this class might entail. She probably should have figured magic would be involved.

  A few pieces of chalk floated up off the chalkboard and scribbled on the board. After but a moment the pieces clinked together as if toasting each other, then fell back onto the wooden lip at the bottom of the board. Freya looked at her classmates who all shared her wide-eyed look. At least she wasn’t alone in that.

  The Peoples of the Created Realm

  Professor Addie

  Who are we? Who are they?

  “Welcome! Congratulations on being unique among your peers. Most of us who first emerge are so concerned with figuring out how to throw fireballs and fly, that we ignore the fact that we are guests in this realm.” Addie’s glasses began to glow, taking on an almost fire-like appearance that looked more like a tattoo than a set of glasses. “We need to be conscious of that fact. This is not some playground for us, people are born, get jobs, have families, and die here. The last thing some farmer needs is a wannabe Wonder Woman flying through his field and destroying his crops for the season.”

  A man with a face a shade too-perfect raised his hand. “Can’t they just make food with pages? Who cares if their farm gets wrecked? Just drop them a few pages and they have food for a year,” He said without waiting to be called on.

  The fire on Addie’s glasses flared. “Creating matter destroys pages, a resource the first people of the realm cannot create on their own. The nobility of this realm hunt down any pages Fable-Walkers have traded as they want the magic for their guards and their own entertainment. The vast majority of normal people will never touch a page in their lives.”

  The man’s face scrunched awkwardly like he had twelve botox treatments too many. Freya cringed, but he didn’t speak anymore. Professor Addie took in an exaggerated breath, her glasses returned to the simple red form they had been when she entered.

  “Now, who here is new to MythHarbor? Let’s say a year or less.”

  Freya slowly rose her hand, of the five other students only one more rose their hand. A thin man’s hand was shaking, Freya gave him a smile, maybe a friendly face would help. After a moment she narrowed her eyes at Botox man, he had been here more than a year? How many peasant shacks had this moron destroyed?

  Judging from the tight-lipped frown on Addie’s face she thought the same thing. “So I assume the rest of you have heard about the Changing of the Ways?”

  All but Botox man nodded.

  Addie’s frown deepened. “The Changing of the Ways is an upheaval that essentially destroys the cultures present in MythHarbor. These are sparked by large changes to the Fantasy genre in the Source. With each change a new age begins, causing the calendar to start from year one again. Can anyone tell me what year it is right now?”

  “Ten Y.J, or the Tenth Year of Joining.” The woman at the end of the room wore the Black Knight getup from Sarehole.

  Freya would have to catch up with her and ask what that was about.

  “Right! Ten years ago was the most recent Change of the Ways. Ythelmar moved from a thousand miles off our eastern coast, to just a couple dozen overnight. This roughly coincides with the release of Jade War and City of Brass in the source, or the wider acceptance of non-western fantasy in the genre.

  Publishers began to go crazy for a different flavor of fantasy and as a result that energy devastated the realm. When Yhtelmar moved, they suffered the equivalent of a magnitude ten earthquake, essentially leveling every settlement there. Even with help from The Mind’s Mirror disaster recovery squads, they have barely built back a fraction of their old life.”

  The thought of an entire continent being ravaged made Freya shudder. It began to make sense why nobody had stopped Sulivar. “Couldn’t we just tell the publishers to stop? How many people died because they changed their tastes?”

  “The Harbor wouldn’t exist were it not for these stories. As terrible as the effects may be, we can’t stop it no matter how hard we try. If the publishers don’t break new ground, self-published authors will.” The Professor’s glasses turned a watery blue. “The people of this world endure, as they always have.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “They must hate us…”

  “Some do.”

  All this time Freya really hadn’t thought much about the First People of the Realm. Outside of her brief interactions in Sarehole and The Gate she hadn’t even spoken to any of them. The angry man in the bar she had humiliated for her first quest came to mind. As much as the thought made Freya sick, she had been treating them like NPCs in a video game rather than real people. She absently grabbed one of the toy soldiers hanging from her chest. Those poor children…

  #

  “Professor!” Freya called out as Addie made for the door.

  The Professor turned, her form draped in shadows as a result of her portals dispersing. “Addie is fine.”

  “Right, Addie. I just had a few questions about your lesson. Could you spare a few minutes for me?”

  “I do prefer that you ask any questions during the lesson. The other students might benefit from the answers.”

  Freya ever so slightly rocked on her heels. What was it about professors and college that made her so nervous? It was perfectly reasonable to be asking questions after a lesson, especially when half the students in her already intimate sized class were falling asleep by the end.

  “I didn’t think they would be interested.”

  Addie’s glasses flared. “You’re probably right.”

  It was hard not to feel guilty despite her attentiveness during class. It was unlikely Addie taught this class for any other reason than her own passion. If Botox man was any indication, Fable-Walkers could stand to do a little less adventuring and a lot more thinking. What must it be like to be a normal person surrounded by super-powered beings from another realm?

  “Walk with me. I’ll answer what I can.”

  The pair walked up a winding set of stairs and out into one of Esselem’s larger red-carpet lined hallways. No one was around. Which seemed strange considering how early in the day it was.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Probably at the Storyteller’s class on page-manipulation.”

  “Everyone?”

  Addie smiled. “You really are new aren’t you?”

  “You could say that. I’ve been around for about a week.” Was it just a week? It felt like so much longer.

  “About seventy-percent of Esselem’s students come here for the Storyteller’s classes on magic and pages.”

  “Why would Botox face go to your class then? He seemed the type to care more about fireballs than people.”

  Addie tilted her head. “Botox face?”

  Freya froze. Had she really said that out loud? “The annoying guy, his face looked like-”

  Addie laughed so loud it echoed all throughout the hallway. She held up a hand. ”I understand.”

  The laughter made Freya’s heart swell. Now she could feel a little better about spilling her internal dialog. “He was kind of a prick.”

  “He’s a Flea. You can’t repeat a class at the Institute multiple semesters in a row. So fleas hop onto another class that they put the bare minimum effort into until they can take their preferred course again in the next semester.”

  “The Minister gave me a big speech about how if I am not here with a genuine love for learning I’ll be removed. How can that behavior endure long enough for it to develop a nickname?”

  “The Minister’s bark is worse than his bite. He gives the same speech to every newcomer, and he completely fails to act on it every time.”

  That was a little depressing. It was probably a little naive to assume that magical college would be any different than regular college. Esselem had problems just like any other school, complete with faculty disliking each other, as was evidenced by the way Addie’s face hardened when she mentioned the Minister.

  “Has he ever kicked out a student?”

  “A handful over the years. The most recent examples are the Wasp and the Latvian, but that was more than twenty years ago. Before that The Disgrace, then The Bloodletter and The Iron Witch before him.”

  The Latvian. Sulivar. And this Wasp character she kept hearing about. Of course they would be one of the few to get the boot.

  “Did you know them? The Latvian and the Wasp?”

  “No, I was barely more than a pre-teen when they were most active.”

  From what Freya could tell, Sulivar really started going nuts around the turn of the century. So that would make Addie something like late-thirties in the source. Her current form looked to be deliberately older than that. Why would she make herself look older? Some kind of disguise?

  Addie turned abruptly beside a small door with a set of familiar looking glasses carved into it. “This is me. Feel free to stop by anytime with more questions.”

  Then she disappeared inside before Freya could so much as say thanks. Freya frowned. The information was valuable, but she didn’t even ask a single question she had originally intended to.

  #

  Roman stood over a mess of papers covered in incoherent scribbles. His smile had infected both Freya and Zora. Freya laid back on Roman’s bed after he started pacing again, she was certain he would figure out a solid plan of attack. For someone who was determined to take charge of everything, he sure liked to psych himself out.

  “How are you so calm?” Zora asked.

  Freya propped herself up on her elbows. “Is there something I should be upset about?”

  “Look at all this!” The papers holding Roman’s plans lined the floor from wall to wall. Where had he even gotten this much paper? “We are seriously going to attack a city next week.”

  “Not a city,” Roman said. “Just the treasury.”

  “Just the most defended building in the city you mean.”

  “No, the Baron’s mansion is the most guarded. Twelve full time guards for the mansion, only eight for-“

  Zora threw her shoe at him. “You know what I mean!”

  It was nice to see the two getting back to something approaching their normal dynamic. Though it wasn’t quite the same. There was still hesitation in almost every interaction between Zora and Roman. The breach in trust couldn’t be fixed in a day. Roman nudged the shoe out of his way then got back to work. It was hard to fault the man for his supreme focus. The deepening lines in Zora’s face made Freya sit up straight.

  “Having second thoughts?”

  “No, I’m just…afraid.”

  The light of the moon streamed through the window, giving Zora’s face a pale glow. The exhaustion in her eyes made Freya’s heart sink. Had she pushed too hard for this? Zora was always the picture of strength.

  “No.” The ice in her tone made Freya regret the thought. “It’s nerves, that’s all.” Zora looked back on Roman with a smile. “And with him making the plans, I believe we can make this work.”

  “I was looking forward to an adventure,” Freya said. She closed her eyes, taking in the salty scent of the ocean that permeated every stone in this place. “But now that I’m in the middle of one, I’m scared of what might come next.”

  Nothing had been the same since the death of Sulivar’ soldiers. In the grand scheme of things a few dead tsarists were nothing, Sulivar probably wouldn’t have even been informed of their deaths. But personally, that night had been tugging at the frayed edges of Freya’s mind, threatening to unravel her like a ball of yarn.

  “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Zora grabbed their mugs of wine from the floor, then she raised her cup. “If we are going to change, it will be together.”

  Freya drank deep, hers was a tooth-numbing sweet white wine, much more like a sparkling grape juice than a true alcoholic drink. Zora leaned back against the wall, sipping as as she watched Roman bounce between the roomful of notes. There was that sparkle in her eye again. They would make a fine couple if the pair of them ever fully worked out their issues.

  Despite what Zora said, Freya hoped they wouldn’t change too much. There was still so much of this world they could see together, they had not even scratched the surface of what the Harbor had to offer. It would be the greatest regret of her life if they were torn away from this wonderful place. Though the sinking pit in her stomach implied that would come to pass. In every story there was a price to pay for victory.

  After all, Frodo never did return to Middle Earth.