Sworded Affair

Chapter 31: Orientation

Nobody else dared bar Emma's path, ensuring that she reached her destination without further delay. The entrance to the tower of Scholomance was fairly mundane, a sharp contrast to the floating grandeur of Academia Mortalis. There was no guardian to greet her outside, nor any visible evidence of surveillance upon her person. Someone was probably watching though, given how the wide double doors swung open as she approached, though Emma supposed it might simply have been a motion sensor at work. The latter theory was ruled out the moment Sir Bearington passed the threshold to the Dungeon, and immediately disappeared in a flash of red light.

“No animals allowed in the library!” A stern voice declared from overhead, and for a moment Emma thought Sir Bearington vaporized, before her System's latest notification caught her eye.

[Item forcibly placed in Inventory: Sir Bearington in a Box (Sealed - Level 4)]

“Yikes,” Emma grimaced. “Whoever runs this place isn’t a fan of animals.”

“You wouldn’t like them either, if you ever had to clean the bookshelves of rat droppings!”

She sounds rather annoyed, Emma noted, deciding not to provoke any further the possible overseer of the Dungeon.

After all, it probably wasn’t a close relative running the show here; Emma couldn’t count on a baked-in positive reputation this time. Taking a look around, Emma couldn’t see any of the aforementioned bookshelves, the entrance hall was entirely empty, save for four runic circles engraved in the ground: three in a row and the fourth further back, their faint red glow providing the only source of illumination in the hall. The remainder of the floor, walls and ceiling were pitch black and void of definition, lacking even the soul-searing runes adorning the tower’s outer surface.

“Ahem,” The overseer cleared her throat, drawing Emma’s attention back to the ceiling.

“Welcome, aspirant! You have entered Scholomance, the finest facility of examination in the Eternal Britannian Empire, and designated host to the Trials of Mastery. For generations, aspirants have entered these halls, emerging either far greater than when they first entered, or not at all. By entering the first chamber, you implicitly consent to your participation in the Trials of Mastery, thereby waiving all rights to legal remedy in the event of your injury or demise; this includes any actions brought on your behalf by friends and family.

There is a grace period of one minute following the end of this broadcast; you may exit Scholomance during this time to void your participation in the Trials. Should you remain inside the chamber past this grace period, the door shall be sealed and exit becomes possible only at three designated checkpoints; at the end of the tenth, twentieth and thirtieth floors respectively. After reaching each checkpoint for the first time, a gateway will open permitting descent back to this starting chamber.

As a reminder, reaching the tenth floor is sufficient to qualify an aspirant with the title of Practitioner, surpassing the twentieth floor grants the title of Magus, and conquering the thirtieth floor conveys the title of Master. Accordingly, the difference in difficulty between each floor is substantial; there is no shame in departing after meeting a checkpoint and returning later for the rest of the tower. Indeed, many who eventually reached the summit did so after years between each stage, during which they further honed their skills in the outside world.

Do you understand everything that has been explained to you?”

“I do,” Emma acknowledged, already more than familiar at fifteen with disclaimers and waivers of liability, even if this one had somewhat higher stakes than the permission slips for her past school trips.

“Very well, and good luck, aspirant. Your minute of grace begins now!”

A gaudy hourglass flickered into being right above Emma’s head, the sand draining rapidly from top to bottom. Emma reached for the construct, her hand passing straight through and confirming it to be an illusion. Unbothered, she stood stock still, waiting out the timer with a patience very unlike her past self, until the final grain of sand fell into place.

[Spacetime anomaly detected. Fast travel disabled.]

“Not my inventory this time?” Emma wondered. “Is it possible to tailor the suppression then, to affect certain abilities but not others?”

[With difficulty. Felix could not have managed such fine manipulation with all the power in the world. Whoever is atop this tower either has a born talent for spatial magic, or is truly worthy of the title ‘Master’. Be careful.]

Nodding seriously, Emma took a step forward as the first of three runic circles blazed to life; a crimson halo many times brighter than the dim light from before. Stepping into the ring, Emma felt the strangest sensation of her body being compressed into a tube, and then she was gone.

—

“She listened to the entire speech, paying careful attention from beginning to end.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Elizabeth Faust replied, standing ramrod straight with her arms behind her back; a slight echo lingered in her words, the fading remnants of the spell used to change and conceal her voice.

“Nobody listens like that, not unless this was genuinely their first time hearing it all. Did you really tell your daughter nothing?”

“Nothing at all, ma’am. The tomes I left in Noah’s possession contain our basic history, but nothing so specific as the details of our magical curriculum.”

“You could have taught her that much, surely? Teaching her what everyone born into the path already knows isn’t nepotism, just common sense. Also, relax, this isn’t a formal ball.”

“I’m confident that Emma will excel even starting from scratch,” Elizabeth Faust explained, though she did drop the formalities and relaxed her posture as requested. “She’s always been willful and hard to direct, but utterly unstoppable once given motivation and a clear goal in front of her.”

“Mmm. You’ll have to explain why you withheld the information yourself. Don’t blame standing orders on this one.”

“Of course not,” Elizabeth nodded in agreement, far too afraid to do anything else.

Even as the head of internal affairs, this was still the first time she’d had a one to one meeting with Britannia's first and only Queen.

“Wonderful. Since that’s settled, I suppose there’s nothing left for us to do except enjoy the show.”

“As you say, your majesty.”

[Paradox, Queen of Hours - Level 12?]