006
“Administration for Orange Academy. How may I direct your call?”
“Hello. My name is Mark Careed. I took a scan there a week ago to see if I had any latent magics that would enable me to have a… a scholarship, or something.” Mark kinda lost it there at the end. He rallied. “I was given a…” He mostly rallied. “I was given a negative on the scholarships. I was hoping I could get that decision, like, reversed, or something. I really want to learn Telekinesis like my dad sort of has to take part in the family business and explore the world. Uh…” He lost it completely.
… Was that enough?
Mark added, “Can you help?”
The woman on the other end of the phone call said, “… Okay. I’ll direct you to Scholarship Aid. One moment, please.”
“Sure!” Mark said, enthusiastically, completely unsure why he was so enthusiastic.
He wasn’t sure about a lot right now.
He held his phone to his ear and paced around his bedroom. It was 10 am and it was raining hard outside. No fishing today, and Mark decided that he didn’t need to go back to school at all, and though the rugby guys were mad at him, Mark needed to think about the future and it wasn’t like he was the star player on the team, anyway. The star player was Adam, and Adam had gone away for Winter Break and never come back, because he was training for Tutorial now, too.
A lot of people ignored their senior year in high school. It was pretty normal. People still got mad about it.
Ignoring his senior year was one of his many decisions Mark had made in this past week, along with his future plans for magic and all of that… stuff. Gods. Mark was freaking out. The music on the phone was so placid, blahblahblahing in his ear, and yet his heart was racing, his palms sweating. Mark had taken the practice GED last night and he had easily passed. He was going to take the real GED next week. Once he did that, he’d qualify for Basic Income. Then he could actually go to work full time with Dad so he could start saving up money. He couldn’t actually go to arcanaeum until he had that GED, either, and he needed money—
The music stopped, and Mark’s heart stopped with it.
“Hello. This is the Scholarship Aid office. Miranda speaking. How can I help you?”
Mark’s throat was dry. “Uh—” He took a breath, and said, “Hello. My name is Mark Careed. I showed up for a full-scan a while ago, to check for latent powers or inclinations. They found nothing— Ah. Archmage Sloane Addashield read the readout for me? I know that was the evaluation I received, but I want to continue in the family business of a fishery, and that requires Telekinesis— or any solid-state kinetic power— magic. Uh. Grandpa had hydrokinesis...” Mark was losing it. He found it again, saying, “I don’t want to be a brawny. I could do the Tutorial and get that. I easily passed the False Tutorial.” ‘Easily’ was subjective. “I don’t want brawny. I want… Telekinesis.”
“Okay then! One moment Mister Careed. I’m pulling up your file now.”
Mark quietly said, “Thanks yo— thank. Thank you.”
Silence.
Mark paced in his room, one hand on his phone, holding it against his face, the other grabbing his neck, massaging his own neck, trying not to panic about how he might have fucked up already. And he looked at the readout the archmage had given him. It sat on his desk in his room, the few pages of it splayed out and visible. It was a bunch of numbers and graphs, and all of the numbers were in the single digits out of 100, and all the graphs were wavy lines running along the bottom, just above the X-axis.
An eternity later, the lady’s voice returned, “Date of birth?”
“May 3rd, 2030.”
“Mark Careed! This is you, yes. So yes. The archmage’s declaration was correct. You don’t qualify for any normal scholarships.”
Mark was crushed all over again. “… Okay.”
The woman’s voice asked, “Could you tell me a bit more about your situation, though? You said something about a family business?”
Mark wasn’t sure where this was going, but he said, “Uh. My dad is the owner of a third-generation fishery. Grandpa inherited the place from great-grandpa. Grandpa had hydrokinesis. I think great-grandpa did, too, or something. Dad went to the arcanaeum to get something— Not sure how he ended up with telekinesis, but he did… Though he uses it mostly to catch fish and work little metal charms that are shaped like fish, to grab the nets that grab the fish. We pull in a few tons of fish per day from our fish tanks out in Orange Bay. We’ve been doing that for a long time. I was kinda… I was going to abandon the family business but I’m checking all my options... I hoped to get something… good. You know? I studied for the Tutorial and I’ve been handy with a spear for the last few…” Years? How many years? Numbers escaped Mark right now. “For years now. but I can use any weapon. And my False Tutorial readout has me at 95% Brawn, 2.35x baseline.
“I won’t do brawny. I… I can’t be that.
“That happened a month ago. It’s been a confusing time since then.
“So I circled back to the fishery option, and it’s looking appealing. I want more than that, though. I want to be able to actually kill the monsters when they appear, and I want to be able to walk into the hero-only parts of Orange City or anywhere else. I want to be able to walk onto Daihoon and not worry about dying to slimes, or whatever normal things are over there. I’m still under Curtain Protocol and I know my mana channels are still untouched, as much as they can be.
“And so that’s where I’m at.
“I want to be able to actually haul up multiple tons of fish all at once, and be able to swing a spear hard enough to discourage any monsters, and not have to worry about my safety. And I want to be able to protect others. That’s what I really wanted before this… disappointment. I wanted to be a…” Mark said quietly, “A hero.”
Without missing a beat, the woman said, “I can already tell you that you likely qualify for a family-line scholarship. I’d need to get some details, but that’s easy enough to do. I can also tell you that it appears Archmage Addashield did not give you an exit interview, otherwise you probably would have already known this. I’m glad you called! You definitely qualify for something, Mister Careed, for almost everyone qualifies for something. We just need to figure out what.”
Mark felt the world turn lighter, and easier.
The woman asked, “As long as you’re not wealthy enough to afford arcanaeum on your own?”
Mark laughed. “Ah. No. Not rich at all. Mom and Dad were talking about selling stuff in order to pay for arcanaeum, or I’d need to work for a year or two and save to go to arcanaeum for a year, and then repeat that process for the four years of arcanaeum. Or maybe save up for a decade and go to arcanaeum in my late 20s.”
The woman said, “All of those are bad options because once you break Curtain Protocol and learn magic you need to go all the way, as far as you can as fast as you can, and then you can take your time. You need to do this to settle your mana veins in the proper configurations, and you certainly don’t want to try to learn this stuff beyond Tutorial age. If you waited 10 years then you’d certainly be exposed to thoughts and magics that would inhibit proper solidification. What I would have you do is let me help you find some scholarship money or a work-release program for a mage that you would have to do after arcanaeum. That way you can get your proper learning done and solidified and you can actually participate in adult conversations where people talk about magic all the time in casual ways.”
Mark steeled himself. “Okay!”
“The conversation I want to have with you is going to take half an hour to an hour, and probably closer to an hour, and I need to do some research before I can have this conversation with you. Can I call you back tomorrow or the next day for that hour-long interview?”
Mark instantly said, “Sure! I’m free— Wait. Uh…” He looked out the window. “I’m not on the boat today because of rain, but… Uh. In two days? At 3 pm? Or something like that? On the weekend?”
“I’ll pencil you in for Friday at 3 PM, if that’s okay.”
“Yes! Thank you so much! Thank you… uh. Sorry. I forgot your name?”
“Miranda Chase, but you can call me Miranda, Mister Careed.”
“Uh! You can call me Mark. Thank you so much!”
“Call you then, Mark. I should have good news. I usually do!”
“Thank you.”
“Good bye.” She hung up.
Mark stared at his phone for a little while, smiling. “Thank you.”
Eventually he went downstairs to the garage, where Dad was repairing a fishing net, and told him the good news.
- - - -
“Gods, Sally,” Mark said, sitting on a log next to Sally, overlooking the swamp near Sally’s house. “It was embarrassing how happy he was.”
Mark was kinda happy with how happy Dad was, though. Mom, too.
Sally and Mark were sweating hard and exhausted, their wooden swords propped up against the tree of their little practice area. The two of them had been coming out here for years for some serious practice that neither of them could get out of the other people in the Tutorial prep programs.
Sally chugged from her water bottle, her hair all messed up. When she stopped chugging, she said, “Of course he was happy! You’re gonna be a fishboy, just like him.”
Mark laughed. “I am not! Just sometimes, you know?”
Sally smiled. “It’ll be good for you to have a backup plan for when you fail out of being an adventurer.”
Mark scoffed and threw his empty water bottle at her head. She deflected it right back at him and Mark let it strike his chest and roll off onto the ground. He’d pick it up later.
“You better not turn into some crazy adventurer while I’m away at arcanaeum,” Mark said.
Sally just grinned. “I’ll miss you, when I’m out there—” She turned dramatic, “Saving women from monsters and then bedding them! Sometimes twice a night!” Mark laughed as Sally acted sad, “And you’re with your books that you never got to read, losing your muscle mass and gaining brain wrinkles.”
“Hey now! Brain wrinkles are good!”
“Bad for your skin, I’m sure. Wrinkles mean wrinkles, I’m sure! Have you seen a single young mage that isn’t demon-touched? No way!” Sally grinned.
Mark just smiled.
Sally went quiet, thoughtful.
Mark said, “I’ll still get out there… eventually. But neither of us is going to make it to old age without injuries, and magic will be good for a backup plan. If I end up with any level of Telekinesis that approaches the real thing, then I’ll join you out there and fly circles around you.”
Sally scoffed. “Holding yourself up by your magic limbs is not flying.”
“They have those self-propelled gliders. I could strap one on and spin the rotors all myself.” Mark said, “That’d be flying.”
“Nope! Not flight!”
Mark laughed.
“Now the Chosen system, and Drakarok. That’s gonna give me everything I need, including flight, and I aim to take it.”
Mark’s eyes went wide as he looked at Sally, and he realized she wasn’t spitballing this time.
Sally was coyly looking at him, wondering what he was going to say.
Mark, unfortunately, exploded, “The god of War and Murder? The fuck, Sally!”
Sally rapidly said, “Yes! Yes. I know. I’ll be focusing on the war part, against monsters. Less-to-none on the murder part. Have you thought of Freyala more?”
“No no. No switching the subject like that. Let’s go back to how you’re throwing in with Drakarok. The God of War and Murder.”
Sally breathed out, frowning a little. She looked away. Eventually, she said, “You were talking about Freyala as a booster in power, and I tried her first. Didn’t like what she had to say about me, and what she wanted from me. She’s… she’s defensive, Mark.”
Freyala was the goddess of Protection and Healing, so yeah. That was Freyala—
OHHHHhhhh.
Mark said, “And you want to cut down your problems.”
Sally sighed. “I am 3 inches shorter than you. I am 50 pounds lighter than you. Both of us are 5 years from our peak as warriors, but those numbers ain’t gonna change much. Becoming a brawny in the Tutorial will even out some of that discrepancy for me, but it’ll take extreme measures to stand on any front line with any guy at my own level. Extreme measures that Drakarok can give me. In a lot of ways, becoming a brawny will just put me firmly at the bottom of a pack of all the other brawnies out there out there.” She looked at him, softly declaring, “I’m not going to be at the bottom of any pack.”
Mark understood.
He really did.
He was only 5’7” himself, but he was 180 pounds of solid muscle. Sally was 5’4” and 130. Both of them were solid shorties. They had been friends for a long time, but they had turned best friends because of that… as well as them living so close to each other.
Becoming a brawny of any sort usually made a person taller and stronger, too. If Mark was honest with himself, that was the only real reason for him to go brawny himself, and it was not good enough of a reason, either.
Mark said, “Okay. Yeah. When you put it like that. I understand… Mostly. So you decided to go for the Tutorial, then? All the way?”
Sally relaxed. She grinned, and said, “Yeah. In a few months I’m going to take the Tutorial, and get brawny. I don’t want to bother with whatever book shit they teach you in arcanaeum anyway. I’m gonna leave you so far in the dust.”
Mark laughed. “All I’ll have to do is stand on top of my telekinetic tendrils and most of the monsters couldn’t even reach me. I’ll be catching up so fast you’ll be wondering what the fuck happened.”
Sally smiled warmly. She looked at him, saying, “I hope you do, Mark.”
Mark looked down, and away, and then beyond their practice court. His words choked out of him, “D— don’t go dying to some slime or wolf, Sally.”
Sally laughed once and got up, saying, “You forget! I’ll be a priest of the Murder God. I’ll be the one doing all the killing. I’ll be great!” She grabbed her wooden sword and slapped her helmet back on, saying, “Show me what your devotion to Protection can actually accomplish!”
Mark got up and grabbed his wooden sword, grinning as he slapped his own helmet back on, saying, “I haven’t actually gone to Freyala at all yet, so this shit talking isn’t doing anything for me.”
“It’s doing wonders for me, though!”
Mark was about to square up, but he stepped back and looked at Sally. “Is it, actually? Like is Drakarok looking right now?” He got suddenly concerned. “Sally! Did you break Curtain Protocol!?”
Sally gave a large smile, saying, “Nope! I did pledge myself already, though. Don’t go easy on me, Mark. Bring it.”
Mark squared up, saying, “I’m not going to hurt you...”
Sally was about to complain.
Mark added, “Much.”
They fought, perhaps harder than they had ever fought before, but maybe not really.
Mark ended up getting pushed back almost instantly, having to angle his sword so that Sally deflected to the side, and then he cut inward with a counter, but Sally slapped his attack away with her buckler and then they backed off each other. Mark almost asked her what the fuck was that, because she was being way more aggressive than usual, but then she continued her aggression and came at him again, her buckler leading the way. She tried to slap his sword to the side and come in with her own, but Mark was ready for that and he did have a lot more reach on her just by virtue of his size, so he used that advantage.
His buckler went at her face and her wooden sword struck his shoulder.
They both came away from the exchange hurting—
Sally spat out a tooth.
Mark exclaimed, “Shit! Sorry! Let’s—”
Sally advanced, and Mark defended. Strikes came high and Mark defended with counters before twisting into a strike that almost hit Sally, but she evaded at every blow and then she came around with strikes that were harder than ever. Mark deflected.
Breathing evenly, pacing himself, Mark entered the flow, and Sally did, too. They had fought each other hundreds of times. Neither of them was a good partner for each other anymore, because neither of them improved each other anymore, but it was good practice anyway. But today, Sally was different.
She stepped stronger. She struck harder. She moved faster than before.
And something was building up on Mark. Pain. Simple pain was going to knock him out of the fight before it knocked out Sally—
Sally swung at his legs and Mark failed to realize that she could actually hit him with her attempt. She struck a clean blow. Mark went down, his leg seizing up at the pain, and Sally backed away, cheering.
“I got you! I got you, Mark!”
Mark lay on the ground, breathing hard, grimacing, willing the pain away. Soon, he chuckled. “Good fight.”
Sally laughed, whooping and hollering.
As Mark lay on the ground, hurting everywhere and bleeding from his hands, he took off his gloves and looked at the damage. He wasn’t quite sure how, but he was bleeding from the hands. Cuts had opened up everywhere, like paper cuts. It looked worse than it was, but it was already seriously stinging.
Sally sat on her ass beside him, smiling, though she was missing a tooth. “You fought well, Mark.”
Mark almost sat up to look at her, but he decided to just lay there instead. He put his gloves back on, stinging the whole time, but he needed to wear them just so he didn’t bleed everywhere on his way to Freyala’s free healing clinic. “You already declared for War, then.”
“Phhhh!” Sally exhaled. “You don’t think I could kick your ass without a god’s help?”
Mark looked her straight in the eyes and talked shit, “Nope.”
Sally laughed. She smiled. She said, “I don’t know what any of that was, but… I think it was a taste. I haven’t actually declared yet, but I’ve had a few talks with his priesthood. He wants me to kill monsters and I already decided I want to do that long before I went to him, so it’s a good fit. The only difference is that I’ll be declaring a kill for him once a month, and in exchange… I’m not sure what he’ll give me, but Warriors of War are the frontline fighters against monsters, and I’m going to be there.”
“There are so many types of frontline fighters…” Mark ended that thought before he could really articulate it. Instead, he sat up, aching all the while, and told Sally, “Congratulations.”
Under the cuts on her face and her broken front tooth and split lip, Sally looked happy.
Happily, she said, “Thanks, Mark.” And then she slapped her knees and stood up, saying, “And now! Holy fuck! I’m in a lot of pain! Let’s go to Freyala’s Healing House.”
Mark held up a hand. “Help me up.”
Sally grabbed his wrist and he grabbed hers. “Always.”